Chapter 3

Sophia sat on the edge of the bed for what felt like an eternity, her mind racing with fragmented thoughts. The soft ticking of an ornate clock on the wall was the only sound breaking the silence. She had to keep her wits about her, had to stay calm. Panic wouldn't solve anything, and surrendering to fear would only make her weaker in Dante's eyes.

She stood up, pacing the room as she mulled over everything. The opulence surrounding her felt suffocating. How ironic that such luxury could feel like a prison. With a sudden need to ground herself, she walked over to the window, pulling back the heavy drapes to reveal a breathtaking view of the sprawling grounds below. The garden was meticulously maintained, the moonlight casting a silver glow over the stone paths and neatly trimmed hedges. It was serene-deceptively peaceful, given the world she had just entered.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

Sophia stiffened, her heart leaping into her throat. Was it Dante? Had he come back to impose more rules, to remind her once again that she now belonged to him?

"Miss, may I come in?" The voice was familiar-it was the woman who had escorted her earlier.

Sophia hesitated for a moment before replying, "Yes, come in."

The door opened with a quiet creak, and the woman entered, carrying a tray with a teapot and a cup. Her expression was calm, professional, as she set the tray down on the small table near the window.

"I brought you some tea. It might help you sleep," she said in the same measured tone.

Sophia studied the woman for a moment. There was something about her-an air of quiet strength, a presence that went beyond mere servitude. "Thank you," Sophia said, though she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep, not tonight. There was too much at stake.

The woman lingered for a moment, then, as if sensing Sophia's unease, she spoke again, her voice softer this time. "I know this situation must be overwhelming for you. But if I may offer some advice, miss-keep your head down. Don't fight him. Mr. DeLuca... he doesn't lose."

Sophia's gaze snapped to hers, a flicker of defiance lighting in her chest. "I'm not some possession he can just control."

The woman smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in it, only understanding. "No, but in his world, he can. I've worked here long enough to know that challenging him will only make things harder for you. He doesn't tolerate disobedience."

Sophia's jaw clenched. "I don't plan to be his obedient little puppet. I came here for my mother, and I'll do what I have to for her. But that doesn't mean I'll just roll over and let him take everything from me."

The woman nodded slowly, her eyes softening for a moment, as though she sympathized. "Be careful, miss. Mr. DeLuca is not a man who takes kindly to defiance. I've seen others try, and it never ends well."

Sophia stared at her, a pit forming in her stomach. What was this woman really telling her? That she should submit? That resisting Dante would lead to her destruction?

"I'll keep that in mind," Sophia said quietly, unsure whether she was accepting the advice or silently rejecting it.

The woman gave a slight nod, then turned to leave, pausing only briefly at the door. "Goodnight, miss. If you need anything else, just call."

The door closed behind her, and once again, Sophia was left alone with her thoughts. The tea sat untouched on the table as she crossed her arms, staring at the ornate mirror on the opposite wall. Her reflection stared back-tired, tense, and scared, though she'd never admit that last part.

Dante DeLuca was a man who wielded power like a weapon, and she was now caught in the crossfire. He had promised to take care of her mother, but at what cost? Her freedom? Her soul?

She pushed those thoughts away for the moment, her mind drifting to the one person who mattered more than anything-her mother. Was she safe? Was she comfortable in the hospital room, unaware of the dangerous world her daughter had just been pulled into?

There was a quiet resolve in Sophia now. No matter what happened, no matter what Dante tried to take from her, she had to stay strong. For her mother. For herself.

The exhaustion of the day finally began to creep in, weighing down her limbs. With a sigh, she slipped off her shoes and lay back on the bed. She stared up at the high ceiling, the cool silk of the sheets feeling strange against her skin.

Tomorrow, she would face Dante again. Tomorrow, she would figure out what this new world expected of her. But tonight, as she lay there in the darkness, she allowed herself one moment of vulnerability. Just one moment to acknowledge the fear gnawing at her insides.

And then, she would bury it.

The morning came too soon. Sophia woke to the soft light filtering through the curtains and the sound of birds chirping outside the window. For a moment, she forgot where she was, her mind still heavy with sleep. But then reality crashed down on her, and she sat up abruptly, the events of the previous night rushing back in a flood of memories.

She quickly dressed in the clothes that had been laid out for her-another reminder of how little control she had in this place. The clothes were simple but elegant, much like the woman who had brought her tea the night before.

When she descended the grand staircase, her heart pounded in her chest. She had no idea what the day would bring, but she knew one thing: she would not let Dante DeLuca break her.

The main hall was empty, save for a few staff members quietly going about their tasks. The house was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that felt loaded, like something was about to happen. And as she walked toward the dining room, she steeled herself for whatever confrontation awaited her.

Dante was already there, seated at the head of a long table, casually sipping his coffee as if this was the most normal thing in the world. When his eyes met hers, a slow, predatory smile spread across his lips.

"Good morning, Sophia," he said, his voice smooth, controlled. "I trust you slept well."

Sophia's heart skipped a beat, but she held her chin high, refusing to show any weakness. "I slept fine."

Dante's eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, as if assessing her defiance. "Good. You'll need your strength."

"For what?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

He set his cup down, leaning back in his chair. "For the future, of course. There are things you'll need to learn. Things you'll need to understand about your new role."

"And what role is that?" Sophia asked, her fingers curling around the edge of the chair in front of her.

Dante's gaze darkened. "You'll find out soon enough. But make no mistake, Sophia-you're not here by accident. Everything that happens now is because I allow it. Keep that in mind."

Sophia felt the chill of his words, but she refused to let it show. Instead, she met his gaze with equal intensity. "I'm not afraid of you."

A slow, dangerous smile spread across Dante's face. "That's what I like to hear."