SOFIA
She didn’t belong to the house. I knew that the moment I saw her crossing the atrium.
It wasn’t just the way she looked though that was certainly part of it. She was polished in a way that felt intentional and expensive, not functional and uniform like the staff. She carried herself with a confidence that didn’t come from following a structure, but from knowing she was the one who could break it. No one guided her; no one corrected her path. She walked through the heavy, silent space like the air itself adjusted to accommodate her.
That was new. In this house, everything moved around Dante. But for the first time, I was looking at someone who seemed to move alongside him.
I was standing in the main hall, returning from the library, when she arrived. Clara was nearby, but she wasn
