Chapter Seven
“Any new reports on the shooters responsible for the church shooting?” Lorenzo asked.
Aldo’s response was too soft for Sofia to hear. She pressed her laptop to her chest and wondered if she could get closer to the door.
Her father had made the mistake of leaving the door to his office slightly open. Anyone walking past could overhear his discussion with Aldo.
The servants wouldn’t talk. Her father paid them handsomely to look the other way.
Maria, her father’s head housekeeper, gave Sofia an odd look before hurrying away. She didn’t give Sofia another glance.
She let out a sigh of relief. Sofia was used to being unnoticed in this home. If Aurora was the rising star, Sofia was only a ghost.
“This is unacceptable. Maxim is expecting a report by the end of the day,” Lorenzo said. “What about Aurora’s killer? Any developments on that front?”
“Unfortunately, we have hit a dead end. The Rossi Familia deny they had anything to do with the murder,” Aldo answered. “But we have every right to suspect them.”
Sofia gritted her teeth. Aunt Elena had been right. Sofia had been lucky to live a carefree life before this. Family politics never interested her. After her mother died, Sofia knew she wanted to cut ties with the family as soon as she could.
How ironic that Aurora’s death had pulled Sofia back into the world she had so eagerly wanted to leave behind.
“They have been steadily disrupting our business operations downtown and in the docks,” Lorenzo remarked. Sofia had never heard him sound so exhausted. “Maxim has generously offered his men to assist us in this matter.”
“One moment, Lorenzo. I think someone is listening to our conversation,” Aldo interrupted.
Flee, a voice inside Sofia’s head yelled, but Maria had already seen her. She would eventually tell Sofia’s father she was snooping around.
Besides, running was the action of a child. Sofia was a married woman now, and her marriage to Maxim had led to a beneficial arrangement for her family.
“Sofia,” Aldo said, catching sight of her. “Why are you here?”
“Is that Sofia? Tell her to come in,” her father said.
Aldo held the door open. Sofia breezed past him, still holding her laptop against her chest. Her father regarded her for a few seconds. “Why are you back here? I thought Maxim had all your belongings moved to your new home?” Lorenzo asked.
The reminder her new husband had ordered everything she owned in her apartment moved to his house immediately pissed her off.
Then she remembered herself. Taking a deep breath, she answered her father, “I wanted to retrieve my laptop. I need it for work.”
“For work? Sofia, being Maxim’s wife is your new job now,” Lorenzo said.
Did he intentionally say those words to provoke a response from her? Sofia decided she was done playing nice.
“Yes, I am his wife, and I will fulfill that role to the best of my abilities. That doesn’t mean I have to give up parts of myself that I love,” Sofia answered.
Her father never understood the artistic side of her. The need to create. Sofia’s family was so good at destruction, at ruining the lives of innocent people. She wanted to do the opposite.
“Juggling so many roles might overwhelm you someday. You are not your sister, Sofia,” my father said.
Sofia stilled and thought Lorenzo should do more for her sister. Too bad her father prioritized cementing his alliance with her husband instead of doing a better job of looking for Aurora’s killer.
“You’ve made it painfully clear to me while we were growing up that I would always be a disappointment in your eyes, but never forget, Father. It is only thanks to me we have this alliance and my husband is fond of me,” Sofia said.
She had nothing more to say to her pathetic excuse of a father, so she left his office in a rush. Her heart beat erratically. Sofia never had the guts to speak to Lorenzo that way before. Before this, her father held all the cards. Being Don of the Bianchi family had made him confident of his control over everyone living under his roof. As Maxim’s wife, Sofia was no longer part of her father’s chessboard.
Lorenzo called her name, but Sofia ignored him. She got what she came for, anyway. With confident steps, she went down the staircase.
Just a couple of steps to the front door now. Sofia couldn’t wait to get out of this stuffy house.