The lawyer's hands shake as he reads Francesco's will.
We're in Pietro's study at the compound, and I can barely process what I'm hearing. The burial was three hours ago. Now I sit between Lorenzo and Pietro while this nervous man in wire-rimmed glasses destroys my life all over again.
"To my niece, Sophia Torrino, I leave the entirety of my estate, both personal and business holdings..."
The words blur together. Properties. Bank accounts. Restaurants. Warehouses. Everything Francesco built, stole, or killed for—he left it all to me.
"This can't be right." My voice sounds distant, like someone else is speaking.
The lawyer adjusts his glasses. "The will was updated two months ago, Miss Torrino. Everything is legal and binding."
Two months ago. When Francesco started talking about marrying me to Daniil.
Pietro leans forward. "What about the business operations? The territories?"
"All assets transfer to Miss Torrino." The lawyer's Adam's apple bobs. "Including all existing contracts and arrangements."
My stomach drops. That means Francesco's deals with the Russians. His agreements with other families. Every promise he made, every threat he issued—they're mine now.
"I need air." I stand too quickly, the room tilting.
Lorenzo's hand steadies me. "We're done here."
He guides me out of the study, down the hall to his room. I sink onto his bed, trying to make sense of this disaster.
"I can't go to his house, can I?" I already know the answer. "To look through his things, figure out what I'm actually dealing with?"
"You're not going anywhere until our wedding. At least."
I look up at him, confused. "But Francesco's dead. Why do we still need to get married?"
Lorenzo sits beside me, his expression grim. "Because him being dead is worse than when he was alive."
"How is that possible?"
"Think about it." His hand finds mine. "You just inherited millions in assets. Legal businesses, illegal operations, and most importantly—Francesco's connections and debts. Every family in Chicago now sees you as either an opportunity or a threat."
The weight of it crashes over me. "They'll come for me."
"Every single one. Daniil will say you're part of the assets he was promised."
"But I don't want any of it. They can have?—"
"No." Lorenzo's grip tightens. "You show weakness now, you're dead within a week. Maybe less."
I pull my hand away, standing to pace. "So what am I supposed to do? Pretend to be some crime boss? I don't know the first thing about running Francesco's operations."
"You marry me. Become a Sartori. That protection might be the only thing that keeps you breathing."
I close the bathroom door behind me and lean against it, grateful for the privacy.
Francesco is dead. I wait for grief to hit, but it doesn't come. How can I mourn someone like him? Who would have watched Daniil destroy me without blinking?
I turn on the faucet, letting cold water run over my wrists. The lawyer's words echo in my head. Everything is mine.
The Torrino family. My family now, I suppose. What's left of it anyway.
I could hand it all to Lorenzo. Sign papers, transfer assets, walk away clean. The Sartoris would absorb Francesco's operations and I'd be... what? Lorenzo's kept woman? His wife who gave him an empire as a wedding gift?
