Chapter 73: Sofia

The cold floor of the living room presses against my cheek as I lie there, unmoving. My body feels like it's on fire, every inch of me aching from the beating my parents just gave me. I can still hear the echo of their voices, cruel and full of hatred, as they left the house. My mom’s final words ring in my ears: “We’ll be right back with something that’ll really make you pay. And if you try to escape, you won’t get far.”

I can hear the car start outside, the engine roaring to life as it pulls out of the driveway. They’re gone—for now. My breath comes in short, shallow bursts as I try to pull myself together. The pain is unbearable, but I can’t stay here. I promised the guys I’d do this. I promised myself I’d help them bring my parents and Moretti down.

Slowly, I push myself up off the floor, using the couch for support. My vision swims for a second, the room spinning around me. My whole body feels like it’s been trampled by a herd of horses, and every movement sends sharp jolts of pain through my limbs. But I have to move. I can’t stay down.

I make my way to the window, every step feeling like a thousand knives cutting into my skin. As I pull the curtain aside, I spot the car driving down the street, disappearing around the corner. They’re really gone. Relief floods through me, and I glance toward the car parked down the street—the one I know is hiding my guys, waiting for me to give them a sign that I’m still okay.

I lift my hand, giving them a small, weak thumbs-up. It’s all I can manage, but I hope it’s enough to let them know I’m still here. I catch a glimpse of movement inside the car, and it’s enough to make me feel a little less alone, even if I can’t hear their voices.

I need to find something. Something incriminating. Something that will take my parents down for good.

I stagger toward the staircase, each step up feeling like I’m climbing a mountain. The pain in my ribs is sharp, like they might be broken, but I can’t focus on that. I need to get to my father’s study. I’ve seen him keep things there before—papers, emails, documents—things he probably shouldn’t have left lying around. He’s careful, but he’s not perfect. And I’m betting he got sloppy at some point.

When I reach the top of the stairs, I take a moment to catch my breath, leaning against the banister. The house is eerily quiet, almost too quiet. The only sound is my own ragged breathing and the pounding of my heart in my ears. I don’t have much time. They’ll be back soon.

I push open the door to my father’s study, the familiar scent of leather and cigar smoke hitting me instantly. The room looks untouched, everything in its place—neat, orderly, just like my father always keeps it. But I know there’s dirt here. I can feel it. I just need to find it.

The leather of my father’s desk chair feels colder than it should, but maybe that’s just the adrenaline keeping me upright as I sift through the pile of papers. My ribs ache, and every breath feels like a sharp stab, but I can’t think about the pain. I can’t let it distract me. I need to find something that will help the guys stop my father and Moretti.

My fingers freeze when they hit a thick folder, dated from a few weeks ago—just before I left. The date catches my eye because I know that’s when Moretti and my father were still in contact, before everything fell apart. I open it, praying I’ll find something, and there it is: emails. My stomach drops as I scan the words on the first one:

**From: Vincent Moretti

To: Victor (my father)

Subject: The Future**

*"Victor,

Once this deal is done, the girl is mine. I don’t care what she thinks. We have an agreement, and she’ll become my wife. Make sure she’s presentable and doesn’t try to run. You promised she’d be ready."*

My heart skips a beat. Marriage? I knew something was wrong, but seeing it written down makes it even worse. I flip to my father’s response, my pulse racing:

**From: Victor

To: Vincent Moretti

Subject: Re: The Future**

*"She’ll be ready. I’ll make sure she shows up. She's 20 now and you can have her. Don’t worry. I’ll handle it."*

My hands tremble. He was never going to protect me. My father was ready to hand me over like some object, willing to force me into something I never agreed to. I feel bile rise in my throat, but I force it down. There’s more. I need more.

The next email makes me shiver.

**From: Vincent Moretti

To: Victor

Subject: Our Agreement**

*"Victor,

You know the terms. She’s to be mine as soon as she’s back. The girl will be my wife. If she tries anything, I’ll deal with her. Make sure she understands, or leave it a surprise for me to explain, I don't care. As long as I get her, you will have your money."*

I slam the folder shut for a second, squeezing my eyes closed, trying to block out the fear. My father wasn’t just working with Moretti—he was preparing to deliver me to him. Like a prisoner. My own father was ready to force me into a life I didn’t want. It’s horrifying, and it makes me want to scream, but I can’t. I have to stay calm.

I open the folder again, flipping through the emails, barely able to breathe. Weeks of planning my fate, making sure I wouldn’t escape, that I’d be there for their “meeting.” They weren’t just dealing with business; they were plotting my future, deciding what to do with me like I was a piece of property.

Then I find another email, this one a bit more recent:

**From: Victor

To: Vincent Moretti

Subject: Tomorrow’s Meeting**

*"She’ll be there. I’ve made sure of it. You’ll get what you want. Once it’s done, we’ll both have what we need."*

The breath leaves my lungs. This was right before I left. I wasn’t just a tool for my father’s business. I was the key to securing his partnership with Moretti. I was supposed to show up at that meeting, ready to be handed over like some trophy wife.

Another email makes me freeze.

**From: Vincent Moretti

To: Victor

Subject: Re: Tomorrow’s Meeting**

*"If she doesn’t show up, the deal’s off. I don’t care how much you owe me. If she runs, you’ll both pay."*

I shut the folder, my hands shaking uncontrollably now. They had everything planned, but I ruined it by running away. That’s why they’ve been looking for me so aggressively. I was the key to sealing the deal, and now they’re both furious because I slipped away.

I dig deeper into the drawer and find something chilling: a USB drive. It’s small and encrypted, but if my father kept it hidden here, it has to be important. My heart pounds as I slip it into my pocket. There’s no telling what’s on it, but I’ll bet it’s everything we need.

I push myself out of the chair, my legs weak and my vision spinning. I grip the edge of the desk for balance, forcing myself to move. I can’t stay here. I have to get this back to the guys.

I’m halfway down the stairs when I hear the familiar sound of my parents’ car pulling into the driveway. Panic surges through me. They’re back.