"It's better this way," I tell her.
"For who?" Vittoria stands, frustration clear in every movement. "You think you're protecting people by keeping them at arm's length, but all you're doing is hurting them. Hurting yourself."
"You don't understand?—"
"Because you won't let me!" Her voice cracks slightly. "You won't let anyone understand. You just sit in your office with your whiskey and your guilt and your secrets, acting like some noble martyr when really you're just scared of being seen."
The words hit harder than any punch. I want to tell her she's wrong, but the lie won't come. Want to explain that being seen means revealing the monster underneath, the one who's killed without hesitation, who's ordered deaths like ordering dinner. The one who looked at a twenty-year-old girl and wanted to possess her completely, consequences be damned.
But I can't tell my baby sister that. Can't admit that the brother she looks up to is exactly the kind of man our mother warned her about.
"Sophia cares about you," Vittoria says, softer now. "Real caring, not obligation or circumstances. Don't throw that away because you think you don't deserve it."
Sophia
I stare at the ceiling. My eyes burn but sleep won't come. Every time I close them, I hear Lorenzo's voice.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I ignore it. Then it buzzes again.
Marina:You okay? You've been quiet.
Marina:Sophia, seriously. Just let me know you're alive.
I grab the phone, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. What do I even say? That I'm an idiot who thought sex meant love? That I confused protection with genuine feeling?
Instead of typing, I hit call.
"Finally!" Marina's voice fills my ear. "I was about to storm that fortress you're living in."
The sound of her voice—normal, safe, untouched by all this darkness—breaks something inside me.
"Marina." My voice cracks on her name.
"Oh honey, what's wrong?"
And then I'm crying. Not pretty tears but ugly, choking sobs that I've been holding back since Lorenzo's words shattered my stupid fairy tale.
"Everything," I manage between gasps. "Everything is so messed up."
"Talk to me. I'm here."
I wipe my face with my sleeve, trying to find words. "I'm living in a house where half the people want me dead. Nico pulled a gun on me the first day. Bruno looks at me like I'm personally responsible for his wheelchair. They hate me, Marina. They hate that I'm a Torrino, hate that Lorenzo brought me here, hate that I exist."
"But Lorenzo?—"
"Lorenzo's playing savior." The bitterness in my voice surprises me. "That's all this is to him. Saving the poor little orphan girl from the big bad Russians. He doesn't actually want me. He just... he feels responsible or something."
Marina stays quiet, letting me spill everything.
"And Pietro, God, he's playing chess with my life. Moving me around like a piece on his board. Marry Lorenzo, retrieve the ledger, be useful or be gone. That's all I am to any of them. A tool. A means to an end."
"That doesn't sound like the Lorenzo you described before."
"I was wrong about him." The words taste like ash. "I built him up in my head, you know? This fantasy from when I was a kid. The man who saved me, who'd protect me, who'd see me as more than just Francesco's niece or a problem to solve."
"Sophia—"
"We slept together." The admission tumbles out. "Multiple times. And I thought... God, I'm so stupid. I thought it meant something. I thought when he looked at me, when he touched me... I thought that was real."
