Chapter 11:Blood Debts
650 Words
Florence – Morning After the Gala
The sun rose blood-red over the Romano estate.
Sofia sat by the window, Leo asleep behind her, one arm thrown across the space where she used to lie. He looked peaceful like this—unguarded, raw.
But she was anything but peaceful.
Her phone buzzed. A private message. Unknown number.
> “Your father isn’t dead. And he wants to talk.”
Sofia stared at the screen. Cold sweat slicked her palms. Her father had been a ghost in Leo’s world—rumored dead, hunted by every major family in Europe for debts and betrayal.
But now he was reaching for her.
Why now?
And more importantly… what the hell did he want?
She deleted the message.
She didn’t tell Leo.
---
Later That Day – Private Safehouse Outside Florence
Sofia sat in a black car, tinted windows, one of Leo’s lower-ranked men behind the wheel. She had told him she wanted to shop.
She lied.
The safehouse was tucked into a grove of cypress trees, hidden from the road. Quiet. Private.
Inside, the air was musty. The walls cracked. And in the corner, seated in a worn armchair with a cane between his knees…
Was her father.
Vittorio Moretti.
Older. Gaunter. With haunted eyes that had seen too much.
He looked up. “Sofia.”
She didn’t move.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” she said.
“So are you,” he rasped. “And yet, here we are.”
He gestured for her to sit.
She didn’t.
“I lost everything,” he said. “The money. The family. The allies. They took it all after I refused to give up your mother’s name.”
“She died for you.”
“She died because they found out about you.”
Sofia’s heart clenched.
“What do you want from me?”
He looked at her with glassy eyes. “A chance. I need to disappear. Start over. I have enemies closing in.”
“And you thought I’d save you?” she snapped.
“You’re with Leo Romano. You can buy me a way out.”
She stepped forward. “You sold weapons to Russians, betrayed allies, and tried to traffic your own daughter—and now you want mercy?”
“I was trying to protect you!” he hissed. “Everything I did, I did so you wouldn’t end up like—”
“Like what?” she demanded. “A killer? A slave? A w***e?”
She reached into her coat.
Pulled out the gun Leo gave her.
Her father froze.
“You won’t,” he whispered. “You’re still my daughter.”
She stepped closer. Raised the barrel. “That’s exactly why I will.”
And she pulled the trigger.
Once.
His body slumped forward, blood blooming across his chest.
Sofia stared at him for a long time.
Then walked out in silence.
---
That Night – Romano Estate
Leo found her in the bathroom, scrubbing her hands like the blood was still there.
He said nothing.
Just waited.
Finally, she looked up.
“I killed him.”
Leo blinked once. “Who?”
“My father.”
He stepped forward slowly, brushing his thumb along her jaw.
“Good,” he said simply.
She didn’t cry.
She didn’t scream.
She just breathed.
Because for the first time, the weight wasn’t on her back.
It was in her hands.
Leo kissed her—long, slow, grounding.
And when he took her to bed that night, he moved inside her with reverence.
No pain. No punishment. Just connection.
Skin to skin. Eye to eye.
No masks. No power games.
Just him. Just her.
She wrapped her legs around him, pulled him deeper.
And whispered, “I’m not afraid anymore.”
He kissed her collarbone.
“You shouldn’t be. The world should be afraid of you now.”
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