The Sicilian villa was quiet, its grand halls bathed in the warm glow of twilight. Matteo Russo sat at the head of the long dining table, the remnants of his solitary meal pushed aside. A decanter of rich, amber-colored liquor rested within reach, though Matteo's focus was elsewhere. Spread across the table before him was an array of documents, photos, and notes—each one meticulously gathered to craft the perfect plan.
At the center of the pile was a photograph of Andrew and Sophia, their engagement announcement gleaming in glossy print. Andrew's expression was one of unguarded joy, while Sophia's smile, though convincing, betrayed the faintest flicker of tension to those who knew her well.
Matteo's lips curved into a smile—not of pride, but of satisfaction. Everything was falling into place.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hall, and Dante Russo entered, his broad frame filling the doorway. He carried the air of a man ready for confrontation, his dark eyes narrowing as he surveyed the scene before him.
"You summoned me?" Dante's tone was clipped, his impatience thinly veiled.
Matteo didn't look up from the photo. "Sit," he said simply, gesturing to the chair across from him.
Dante hesitated before obeying, his movements tense. "What is it now? More orders for Sophia?"
Matteo's gaze finally lifted, his sharp eyes locking onto Dante's. "Sophia's doing exactly what's needed. The Remingtons trust her—Andrew more than anyone. That's the key."
Dante scoffed. "The key to what? Playing house with New York's golden boy? This whole plan is reckless, Father. You're putting too much faith in her."
Matteo leaned back in his chair, his expression hardening. "You underestimate your sister."
"And you overestimate her," Dante shot back. "She's not cut out for this. She's too soft, too naive."
"She's exactly what the Remingtons need her to be," Matteo countered, his voice cold. "Do you think Andrew would have proposed to a woman who acted like us? No. He wants someone who looks innocent, who feels safe. That's what makes her perfect."
Dante leaned forward, his fists clenched on the table. "And what happens when she breaks? When they figure out who she really is?"
Matteo's smile returned, sharp and calculating. "They won't. Because she won't let them. Sophia knows what's at stake."
As the tension between father and son hung in the air, Matteo reached for a folder near the edge of the table. He slid it across to Dante, his expression unreadable.
"Do you know what this is?" Matteo asked.
Dante opened the folder, his eyes scanning the contents. Inside were detailed profiles of the Remington family: Andrew, Evelyn, Philip, and even Andrew's siblings, Richard and Elizabeth. Alongside each profile were notes on their business dealings, political connections, and personal weaknesses.
"This," Matteo said, tapping the edge of the folder, "is the culmination of years of observation and planning. The Remingtons are everything we're not—clean, respected, untouchable. But no one stays untouchable forever."
Dante frowned, flipping through the pages. "So, what's your grand plan? To ruin them? To what end?"
"To infiltrate them," Matteo replied smoothly. "The Remingtons have access to circles we've never been able to penetrate. Political elites, international financiers—the kind of people who can make or break empires. With Sophia on the inside, we can dismantle them from within and rebuild something greater."
"And by 'rebuild,' you mean what? Expand your control into New York? Turn the Remingtons into your puppets?" Dante's voice was laced with skepticism.
Matteo's eyes glinted with something darker. "Exactly. But it's not just about power, Dante. This is personal."
Dante's brow furrowed. "Personal?"
Matteo rose from his seat, pacing slowly around the room. "Years ago, before you were old enough to understand, I had an… arrangement with Evelyn Remington. It was a mutually beneficial relationship—or so I thought. But when her family's interests shifted, she discarded me like I was nothing."
Dante's jaw tightened as he absorbed his father's words. "You're saying this is about revenge."
Matteo turned to face his son, his expression deadly serious. "It's about retribution. Evelyn humiliated me, made me a pariah in circles I had worked years to enter. She thought she could rise above me, leave me behind. Now, I'll show her that no one crosses the Russos without consequences."
Dante shook his head, his frustration mounting. "So, you're willing to risk everything—our family, our business, even Sophia—for some vendetta against Evelyn?"
"This isn't just about Evelyn," Matteo snapped. "It's about legacy. The Remingtons have built their empire on the illusion of integrity, while people like us are forced to operate in the shadows. That ends now. With Sophia in their inner circle, we can expose their vulnerabilities, exploit their connections, and take what should have been ours."
"And what if Sophia fails?" Dante challenged. "What if Andrew figures out what she's doing?"
Matteo's expression darkened. "Then you step in. If Sophia can't handle the pressure, it's your job to ensure the plan doesn't fall apart."
Dante stiffened, his loyalty warring with his growing unease. He had always followed Matteo's orders, but this plan felt different—more personal, more dangerous. And while he had his doubts about Sophia's resolve, he couldn't deny the flicker of protectiveness he felt toward her. She was family, after all.
"I'll do what needs to be done," Dante said finally, his voice low. "But if this goes sideways, it'll be on you."
Matteo smirked. "It won't go sideways. Not if we play our cards right."
Meanwhile, in New York, Sophia sat in the Remington estate's garden, her thoughts weighed down by the phone call she had received earlier that evening. Matteo's instructions had been clear: get closer to Evelyn. Learn her weaknesses. Gather information.
But the idea of betraying Andrew's family made her stomach churn. She had grown to admire Evelyn's sharp mind and unflinching grace, even as she sensed the woman's quiet suspicion. Evelyn wasn't like Matteo—her strength came from a place of integrity, not fear. And yet, Sophia knew she couldn't afford to let her guard down.
Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen. A text from Matteo: "Don't lose sight of the goal. This is bigger than you."
Sophia clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening around the phone. She was caught between two worlds, each one demanding her loyalty, each one threatening to destroy her if she made the wrong move.
As the stars twinkled above, Sophia whispered to herself, "How much longer can I keep this up?"