Chapter 12
1099 Words
(Alessia’s POV)
I did not see Sofia again for days after that dinner.
In this house, days blended into each other. Morning light filtered through heavy curtains, evenings arrived quietly, and nights stretched endlessly. I learned routines, rules, silences. I learned when to speak and when breathing too loudly felt like a mistake.
But Sofia remained an absence.
Until that afternoon.
I was seated by the window, pretending to read a book I hadn’t turned a page of in over an hour, when the door opened without a knock. I stiffened instinctively, expecting a guard, or worse, Dante.
Instead, Sofia walked in.
She was dressed simply, no extravagant jewelry, no dramatic presence. Just a cream blouse, dark trousers, hair tied back neatly. She closed the door behind her herself, a detail that unsettled me more than if someone had guarded it.
“You don’t need to stand,” she said calmly when I began to rise. “I’m not here on Dante’s orders.”
I hesitated, then sat back down.
She looked around the room slowly, not with curiosity, but familiarity, as though she already knew every corner. Then her gaze settled on me. Not sharp. Not cold. Just observant.
“You look thinner than the last time I saw you,” she said.
I didn’t respond.
“At dinner,” she continued, “you barely touched your food. Today, your plate will return untouched again.”
“That concerns you?” I asked quietly.
“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “It does.”
She walked closer and pulled a chair opposite me, sitting down with deliberate ease. There was something unnerving about her calm. It wasn’t forced, like the maids’, or intimidating, like Dante’s. It was natural.
“You hate him,” she said.
I laughed bitterly. “Is that a question?”
“No. It’s an observation.”
Silence settled between us.
“You’re wondering why I’m here,” Sofia said. “And whether this is another test.”
I watched her carefully. “Is it?”
“If it were,” she said, “I wouldn’t be sitting this close to you.”
That gave me pause.
She leaned back slightly. “Dante doesn’t explain himself. He never has. People fill the gaps with fear, and he lets them. It works.”
“So you’re here to explain him?” I asked.
“No,” she said softly. “I’m here to explain you.”
My chest tightened. “You don’t know me.”
“I know enough,” she replied. “You’re not weak. You’re not foolish. And despite everything, you still haven’t begged him the way others do.”
“I begged for my father,” I said sharply.
“That wasn’t begging,” Sofia said. “That was bargaining. There’s a difference.”
I looked away.
She studied me for a moment, then said, “You see yourself as a prisoner. Dante sees you as leverage. But I see something else.”
“What?” I asked.
“A woman dropped into a war she didn’t start,” she replied. “Trying to survive without losing herself.”
Her words landed heavier than I expected.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.
Sofia’s expression shifted, just slightly. “Because I was you once. Not exactly. But close enough.”
I turned back to her fully now. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” she said carefully, “that staying alive in this house is not about defiance or submission. It’s about understanding how power moves.”
“And you understand it?” I asked.
She gave a faint smile. “I grew up inside it.”
Another silence.
“Liam came to your room last night,” she said.
My breath caught. “How did you know?”
“Because nothing happens here without echo,” she replied. “And because Dante hasn’t slept since.”
That surprised me.
“You should be careful with Liam,” Sofia added. “Not because he’s evil. But because he believes bravery is enough. It never is.”
“You’re defending Dante,” I said.
“I’m warning you,” she corrected.
She stood, smoothing her blouse. “You don’t have to trust me. But understand this, Alessia, Dante does not destroy what he intends to keep. And he does not keep what he does not respect.”
She moved toward the door, then paused.
“If you ever need someone who will tell you the truth without fear,” she said quietly, “ask for me. Not the guards. Not the maids.”
She opened the door.
“And eat something,” she added without turning around. “You’ll need your strength.”
When she left, the room felt different.
Not lighter.
But steadier.
For the first time since stepping into this mansion, I realized something unsettling.
Dante Romano was not the only power here.
And Sofia might be the only one who understood how to survive him.
Alessia sat on the edge of the bed, her feet barely touching the floor.
The room was silent, but her mind wasn’t. Not loud either, just restless, like something unsettled beneath calm water. Sofia’s visit lingered, not as a conversation, but as a feeling she couldn’t name. It wasn’t comfort. It wasn’t fear. Just awareness.
She traced the pattern on the bedsheet absently, her thoughts drifting. The mansion felt different now, not kinder, not softer, just… clearer. She noticed things she hadn’t before. The way guards avoided certain corridors. How the maids spoke in fragments. How silence here had rules.
Her gaze shifted to the door.
Liam’s presence from the night before still clung to the room, like a shadow that hadn’t decided whether to leave. His words had sounded convincing in the moment. Urgent. Certain. Now, they felt unfinished. Like a sentence cut short.
She stood and walked to the mirror.
The woman staring back looked composed, but her eyes told another story. Tired, yes. But also alert. Watching. Learning. She adjusted the loose sleeve of her dress, a small act of control in a place where control was scarce.
From somewhere down the corridor, footsteps passed, steady and measured. Not rushed. Not careless.
Dante’s house breathed order.
Alessia exhaled slowly and moved back to the window. The estate stretched outward, quiet under the fading light. She did not think of escape. She did not think of submission.
She simply stood there, listening, understanding that whatever came next would require more than fear.
And she would be ready.
- Writer
