Chapter Four: The Truth About Forever
A knock at the door interrupted them.
Dante entered, his expression carefully neutral despite surely seeing how close they stood.
“Sir, the car is ready. And your mother requests a word before you leave.”
Alessandro’s jaw tightened.
“Tell her I’m busy.”
“She was quite insistent, sir.”
A sigh.
“Fine. Sophia, wait here. I’ll just be a moment.”
He left.
Sophia sagged against the table, her legs suddenly weak.
This was her life now. Breakfast in morning rooms. Staff who materialized and disappeared like ghosts. A man who watched her with eyes that held obsession and devotion in equal measure.
Through the windows, she could see the gardens in full daylight.
There was a maze made of hedges. Fountains with stone angels. Benches positioned in perfect spots for reading or contemplation.
It was beautiful.
A gilded cage was still a cage.
But at least this one came with roses.
“He really does care for you, you know.”
She spun around.
Isabella Caruso stood in the doorway, elegant in a cream pantsuit, her hair perfect despite the early hour.
She moved into the room like a queen surveying her domain.
“Mrs. Caruso. I didn’t hear you.”
“I wanted to speak with you privately. Before this goes any further, you should understand what you’re getting into.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever understand what I’m getting into.”
Isabella’s laugh was bitter.
“No. Probably not. Caruso men don’t come with instruction manuals.”
She studied Sophia over her cup.
“But they do come with certain expectations. Loyalty above all else. Public perfection. Private understanding that what happens within these walls stays within these walls.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
Isabella set her cup down with a soft clink.
“My husband—Alessandro’s father—was very much like his son. Obsessive. Possessive. Utterly devoted to the things he claimed as his. I was nineteen when he decided I was going to be his wife. I had no choice in the matter either.”
“Did you ever love him?”
Something flickered across Isabella’s face.
“I learned to. Or perhaps I simply learned that love and possession sometimes look very similar.”
She moved closer.
Her perfume—expensive floral—washed over Sophia.
“Alessandro is softer than his father ever was. He actually cares if you’re happy. His father only cared if I was obedient.”
“That’s a low bar.”
“Welcome to the Caruso family.”
Isabella reached out, straightening the collar of Sophia’s dress with maternal efficiency.
“A word of advice, Sophia. Don’t fight what’s inevitable. Alessandro has decided you’re his. Nothing and no one will change his mind. You can make this hard on yourself, or you can accept it and find what happiness you can within the parameters he sets.”
“That’s not happiness. That’s survival.”
“Sometimes they’re the same thing.”
Isabella stepped back, examining Sophia like she was a painting she was considering purchasing.
“You’re stronger than you look. You’ll need to be. There are people who won’t be happy about Alessandro choosing an outsider. People with daughters they hoped he’d marry. People who see you as a weakness they can exploit.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No, child. I’m warning you.”
Her expression softened slightly.
“Despite everything, I think you might actually be good for him. He’s been half alive for four years. Going through the motions. Waiting for you. Now that he has you, he’s dangerous again. Focused. That’s good for the family.”
A pause.
“Just try not to break his heart. Men like Alessandro don’t recover from that kind of wound.”
Before Sophia could respond, Alessandro returned.
His expression darkened when he saw his mother.
“I thought I told Dante—”
“You did. I ignored him.”
Isabella moved toward the door with grace.
“I was just getting to know your future wife. She’s lovely, Alessandro. Treat her better than your father treated me.”
“That’s not a high bar, Mama.”
“No.”
She paused in the doorway.
“But you’re capable of clearing it. Don’t disappoint me.”
She left.
Silence filled the room.
Alessandro ran a hand through his hair, suddenly looking exhausted.
“I apologize for my mother. She means well, but she has a tendency—”
“To tell the truth.”
He finished.
“To warn me that I’m entering a world I don’t understand.”
“Both.”
He offered his hand again.
“Are you ready to face your old life? To say goodbye to it?”
She looked at his hand.
Strong. Steady. Offering both salvation and prison.
Then she looked at her own.
Still bandaged from yesterday’s accident that had started all of this.
The cut that had bled on marble floors and led her here.
To this moment.
To this choice that wasn’t really a choice at all.
She took his hand.
“Let’s go.”
His fingers closed around hers.
Warm and possessive and terrifyingly gentle.
As they walked out of that morning room, down those grand stairs, toward a car that would take them to her old apartment, she realized something that made her heart race with fear and something else she couldn’t name.
She didn’t want to let go.
The apartment building looked even worse in daylight.
Peeling paint. Cracked windows. Graffiti splashed across the entrance like angry prayers to gods who’d stopped listening.
The contrast between this and the Caruso estate was so stark it felt like they’d traveled to a different country.
Sophia pressed her forehead against the SUV’s window, suddenly nauseated.
“You lived here for four years.”
Alessandro’s voice held barely controlled fury.
He sat beside her, his body rigid, his hands clenched into fists on his thighs.
“Four years in this.”
“It was all we could afford.”
She cut him off, defensive despite everything.
“Not everyone is born into mansions.”
“No.”
His hand found hers, gripping tight.
“But no one should have to live like this either. Especially not you.”
Dante and Luca flanked the vehicle as they exited, their eyes constantly scanning, hands positioned near concealed weapons.
The neighbors who normally congregated on the stoop scattered like roaches when they saw the SUV. The suits. The aura of danger that surrounded Alessandro like cologne.
The elevator was broken.
Had been for months.
So they climbed five flights of stairs that smelled like urine and desperation.
Sophia’s legs remembered every step. Every crack in the concrete. Every stain she’d learned to avoid.
Alessandro’s fury seemed to grow with each floor.
His breathing becoming more controlled. More dangerous.
“This is it.”
She stopped at 5C.
The door was scratched and dented. The number barely visible.
She could hear the television blaring inside. Some morning talk show her aunt watched religiously while nursing hangovers.
She knocked.
No answer.
Knocked harder.
“What do you want?”
Her aunt’s slurred voice came through the door.
“If you’re here about money, I ain’t got none.”
“Aunt Marie. It’s me. Sophia.”
Silence.
Then shuffling footsteps.
The sound of multiple locks being undone.
The door cracked open, revealing her aunt’s bloodshot eyes and unkempt hair.
She was still in yesterday’s clothes. Makeup smeared. Reeking of alcohol and cigarettes.
“Sophia.”
She blinked, confused.
“Why ain’t you at work? And who the hell are—”
Her eyes landed on Alessandro.
Sophia watched recognition flicker across her face.
Fear followed immediately after.
“Mr. Caruso. I didn’t—I wasn’t expecting—”
“Mrs. Chen.”
Alessandro’s voice was pure ice.
“We need to talk. May we come in?”
Her aunt stumbled backward.
They entered the apartment that had been Sophia’s prison for four years.
One main room serving as living room, kitchen, and dining area. A bathroom barely big enough to turn around in. Two bedrooms—Sophia’s little more than a closet.
The place was a disaster.
Empty bottles. Overflowing ashtrays. Dishes piled in the sink.
The stench of decay and neglect.
Sophia watched Alessandro take it all in.
Saw his jaw clench harder with each detail.
Dante and Luca positioned themselves by the door.
Blocking any escape.
“Sophia, baby, what’s going on?”
Her aunt’s voice had taken on the wheedling tone she used when she wanted something.
“Did something happen at the bakery?”
“You could say that.”
Alessandro moved deeper into the apartment.
His presence making the cramped space feel even smaller.
He picked up an empty vodka bottle. Examined it. Set it down with deliberate care.
“Tell me, Mrs. Chen. When was the last time you provided for your niece?”
“I don’t know what you—”
“When was the last time you bought groceries? Paid a bill? Cooked a meal?”
His voice remained calm.
Which somehow made it more terrifying.
“When was the last time you were sober long enough to notice that Sophia was working herself to death to keep you fed and housed?”
Her aunt’s face crumpled.
“Now, wait just a minute—”
“I’m not interested in excuses.”
Alessandro turned to face her fully.
Sophia saw her aunt shrink back.
“I’m here to inform you that Sophia will no longer be living here or supporting you. Your debts have been cleared. This apartment has been paid for six months in advance. What you do after that is your concern.”
“She’s my niece. You can’t just take her.”
“I’m not taking her. She’s choosing to leave.”
His eyes found Sophia’s across the room.
“There’s a difference. Tell her, Sophia.”
Her throat felt tight.
Despite everything—the drinking, the neglect, the emotional abandonment—this woman was still family.
The only family she had left.
“Aunt Marie. I’m leaving. I’m going to work for Mr. Caruso.”
“Work for him.”
Her laugh was ugly.
“Is that what we’re calling it now? I’ve heard the stories about the Caruso men. They don’t hire girls your age to work, sweetheart. They—”
“Finish that sentence.”
Alessandro’s voice dropped to something lethal.
“Please. I’d love to hear what you think I intend to do with your niece. While you’ve been drinking yourself unconscious every night.”
Her aunt’s mouth snapped shut.
“That’s what I thought.”
Alessandro gestured to Sophia.
“Get what you need. We’re leaving.”
She moved to her tiny bedroom on autopilot.
Pulled out the battered suitcase she’d brought from her parents’ house four years ago.
There wasn’t much to pack.
A few changes of clothes. All worn and faded.
Some photos of her parents.
A jewelry box with her mother’s necklace.
Books from the library she’d never returned because she couldn’t bear to part with them.
“Is this everything?”
Alessandro appeared in the doorway, filling the small space.
His eyes swept over her meager belongings.
Something like pain crossed his face.
“Four years. And this is all you have?”
“I didn’t need much.”
“No.”
He stepped closer, taking the suitcase from her hands.
“You just survived. With as little as possible. Because you gave everything else to someone who didn’t deserve it.”
“She’s all I had.”
“Was all you had.”
His hand cupped her face.
Thumb brushing away a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen.
“Now you have me. And I’m not going anywhere.”
They returned to the main room.
Her aunt sat hunched on the couch, crying. Her makeup running in black streams down her face.
Manipulative tears designed to make Sophia feel guilty.
And they worked.
At least a little.
“Sophia, please,” she sobbed.
“Don’t leave me alone. You’re all I have left of your mother.”
“Funny.”
Alessandro’s voice was cold.
“She never seemed to remember that while you were drinking away Sophia’s paychecks.”
“I have a problem. I’m sick.”
“You’re selfish.”
He handed Sophia’s suitcase to Dante.
“There’s a difference. Sophia gave you four years of her life. You gave her nothing but more work and more worry. That ends now.”
Sophia moved toward the door.
Her legs feeling like lead.
This was it. The final severing of her old life.
Her aunt’s sobs followed her, growing louder, more desperate.
“Sophia. Sophia, please don’t do this. Don’t leave me.”
She stopped.
Her hand on the doorknob.
Alessandro was beside her immediately.
His presence solid and grounding.
“You don’t owe her anything,” he said quietly.
“Not guilt. Not explanations. Nothing.”
“She’s family.”
“Family doesn’t destroy you to save themselves.”
His hand covered hers on the doorknob.
“Come on. Let’s go home.”
The word should have felt wrong.
But as they descended those five flights of stairs, left that building that had never been anything but a cage, stepped into the SUV that smelled like leather and safety, Sophia realized Alessandro was right.
She was going home.
She just hadn’t known where home was until now.
