Chapter 57: Chapter 57

\[ SOFIA’S POV \]

The gala had been in full swing for hours, glittering chandeliers throwing light over a sea of gowns and tailored suits. The hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, and the soft strains of the string quartet formed the perfect illusion of civility. My eyes were elsewhere, while my mind was somewhere else.

I noticed it first when Salvatore didn’t return to my side after the first dance. He had been at the center of the room, commanding attention as effortlessly as he breathed, and I had expected him to sweep back to me with that cold, magnetic charm. Yet he hadn’t. He had disappeared, leaving a faint scent of sandalwood and danger lingering in the air.

I frowned, my hand gripping the folds of my ivory gown. My heels clicked sharply against the marble as I moved toward the grand staircase. Guests turned to look, but I barely noticed. There was only one person I cared about at that moment, and that was Salvatore.

I climbed the stairs, each step a drumbeat of unease. He hadn’t been in the private lounge. Not there. Not at the bar. Not with any of the men who were supposed to be watching the Russo family. My stomach tightened.

I knew where he would be. With the bitch who called herself my sister, the one he had inexplicably chosen to pull into his orbit. That girl who had always been in the background, unnoticed, quiet, a shadow in our household. Someone who was supposed to rot in the pit of hell.

My fingers brushed the railing as I hurried down the hall toward Iris’s room. My heart thumped with a mix of fear and fury. What was Dante doing? What was that girl doing with him?

I reached the door and knocked sharply. “Iris! Open up!”

No response. I tried the handle. Locked.

“Iris! You bastard, I know you’re in there with him. And if you know what is best for you—you open this darn door, right now,” My voice rose, a mixture of anger and panic. I banged on the door, hearing the faint echo in the spacious room. No answer came.

The knot in my stomach tightened. Salvatore wouldn’t let anyone touch Iris if he were present. That much I knew. And yet, my instincts screamed that something had gone wrong. Something had happened while I had been distracted by the eyes and whispers of the gala.

I stormed back down the hall, my heels clicking like warning shots. I had no time to second-guess myself. I needed to return to the gala, needed to see what was happening before my father noticed.

The ballroom had changed in my absence. The soft music now felt tense, the laughter slightly strained. Waiters moved with unusual caution. Something was off. I could feel it in the way the men in suits shifted their eyes toward the exits, the way the security detail hovered at the edges of the room, eyes flicking toward the service corridors.

My pulse quickened. I forced myself to approach my father, who was still holding court near the bar. He was laughing, as always, charming the senator beside him, but I could see the faint crease between his brows, the flicker of irritation that he was trying to mask.

“Father,” I hissed, my voice low but urgent. “Something’s wrong.”

He glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “Wrong? Sofia, we are hosting one of the largest pre-wedding galas of the season. What could be wrong?”

“It’s Iris,” I snapped. “She’s… she’s gone.”

My father’s laughter died mid-sentence. His eyes narrowed. “Gone?”

“Yes. I went to her room. The door was locked. She’s not in the house.”

A sharp silence fell over the space between us. Guests’ conversations seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the pounding of my heart.

My father’s expression hardened, the lines of authority sharpening into something dangerous. “Explain,” he demanded, his voice low but commanding, a tone that cut through the murmur of the gala like a knife.

“I don’t know,” I said, my voice trembling. “I went to her room. She wasn’t there. I… I don’t know where she went. But Salvatore isn’t here either. He’s…”

My father’s eyes darkened. The amusement of the night vanished completely, replaced by a calculating, cold fury. “SalvatoreMoretti?” he growled. “He is missing from the ballroom?”

“Yes,” I said quickly. “And I… I tried to find her, Father. I went to her room. I thought, maybe she went somewhere else in the house, but…”

My words faltered as I met his gaze. He was furious, his entire presence radiating the kind of controlled anger that could make men tremble. His hand, pale and strong, gripped the edge of the bar. The veins in his temple stood out.

“Vincenzo…my father spat. Fucking Vincenzo is not in this gala. How could I fail to notice that?” Then he turned his cold gaze to me.  “You allowed this?” he demanded, his voice rising, though still perfectly measured. “You let them, both of them, slip past your watch?”

“I…I didn’t know what else to do!” I burst. “I tried to stop it, I…”

His hand snapped out, gripping my chin with surprising force. “You tried, or you panicked? There is a difference, Sofia. A huge difference.”

I winced, caught between fear and defiance. “Father, I…”

“I don’t care what you are going to do. I care that Iris is missing, and Moretti is not in the ballroom. One of them, or both, could already be halfway out of the city.”

My stomach dropped. Salvatore had planned this. The realization made my blood run cold.

His eyes glinted with calculation. “Alert the security. Lock every exit. Check the cameras. If they left the estate, I want them tracked. Do not let them leave this city.”

“Yes, Father,” I said quickly, trying to steady my shaking hands.

“And you,” he said, turning back to me, “report every guest who leaves before the gala ends. I want no loopholes. Do you understand me?”

“Y-yes, Father,” I stammered, bowing slightly.

He turned sharply, moving to the nearest security officer. “All units, perimeter secured. Track the Moretti vehicle if it leaves the grounds. Contact every ally in the commission. No excuses. Do you hear me?”

The officer saluted and rushed off to execute the orders, leaving me frozen in place.

My mind spun. Salvatore had outmaneuvered all of us. My father, powerful as he was, had been blindsided. And Iris—my sister, my rival, my blood, was gone.

I clenched my fists. “Father, we need to…”

He silenced me with a look, one that made even the most daring socialites in the room shrink under its weight. “Do not interfere,” he said. “Let the security handle it. Your job is to maintain the gala. Keep the illusion. Keep the peace. Let people believe Salvatore had gone to settle a business that was worth billions of dollars. Understood?”

“Yes, Father,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

But inside, a storm raged. Iris was gone. Salvatore had taken her. And the Russo family, my carefully constructed world of power, influence, and control, was suddenly vulnerable.

I stormed to the edge of the room, my eyes scanning the crowd for any hint of movement, any sign of the escape. The orchestra’s music swelled, oblivious to the chaos building just beyond the walls. I wanted to scream, to tear through the marble corridors and find Iris myself—but I knew it would be useless.

His orders were absolute. The guests must not know. The gala must continue, unbroken. Every glance, every laugh, every toast had to be measured, controlled. But my mind was far from measured. Every thought spiraled around the same bitter truth: Irishad escaped. And Salvatore Moretti had orchestrated it.

I thought of the emerald dress, the way Salvatore had paraded Iris in front of everyone, his possession clear for all to see. The rage boiled in my chest, not just for the humiliation, but for the sense of helplessness, the realization that nothing in my carefully controlled world could stop him.

My fingers flexed, curling into fists. I would make him pay. I would find my sister. And I would prove, once and for all, that I was not just the bride, not just the second in command, not just the Russo heir-in-training.

My eyes burned with determination. Iris had chosen Dante. Perhaps for now. But this game was far from over. And when it ended, one way or another, someone would pay.

I returned to my father’s side, smiling as though nothing had happened. My heart raced, my mind raced faster, but the mask never faltered. Guests raised their glasses, and I offered a delicate nod in return, hiding the storm that raged inside.

The Russo empire might have been shaken tonight, but I, Sofia Rossi, was far from defeated.