I become acutely aware of how little I actually know about Sofia.
I know she loves books.
I know she was seven when her father died.
I know she was raised by an uncle.
I know she hates being controlled.
Beyond that?
Nothing.
The woman standing in front of me is still largely a mystery.
And I’m beginning to suspect that mystery may be far more important than I originally believed.
I straighten. “I need to get back to work.”
She looks over her shoulder and smiles.
The expression is warm. Easy.
A smile given without suspicion.
“Okay.” Then, after a brief pause, she adds, “I’ll talk to you later.”
The simple certainty of it catches me off guard.
As though she expects there to be a later.
As though conversation between us is becoming normal.
I find myself nodding before I can stop it. “Later.”
I leave the library.
The smile disappears from my face the second the door closes behind me.
My mind is already racing.
By the time I reach the staircase, I’m moving quickly.
A guard straightens when he sees me approaching.
“Tell Ben I want him in my office. Now.”
“Yes, sir.”
I continue walking without slowing. Ben appears in the doorway of my office only moments later. Before he can even step fully into the room, I bark out the order. “I want everything we can get on Sofia. Run a complete background check. Dig into her family, her past, her associates—everything. I want to know what she breathes.”
Ben nods once, recognizing the tone that permits no questions, and vanishes to set the wheels in motion.
Over the next few days, the anger settles into something colder in my blood. I find myself watching Sofia, my perspective shifting in quiet, subtle ways.
Details I had previously dismissed begin to pull at my attention. I notice the rhythm of her daily routines, the quiet nature of her habits, and the sharp, guarded way she interacts with her surroundings.
By the time the week draws to a close, a reluctant truth settles in. Sofia is no longer just a piece on a board or a neat variable in a larger plan.