Whispers

Sofia's POV

I was barely settling into the silence of my room, the curtains drawn, and the breeze from the open window brushing my skin like soft fingers. The day had drained me. Between Leandro's crazy brother showing up at the beach, approaching us deliberately knowing I was somehow connected Leandro and appearing at the club right after, my mind felt like it had run three marathons.

The house was quiet.

The only sound was the distant hum of traffic outside and the soft whisper of my ceiling fan spinning slowly above me. I lay curled beneath the sheets, still wearing the oversized shirt I hadn’t bothered changing out of. My body was still. My mind? Not so much.

Leandro’s face kept flashing behind my eyelids. That look in his eyes before I told him I needed to rest. The way he backed away, respectful and careful, like he didn’t want to cross a line. It made something shift in me—something warm and confusing and dangerous all at once.

And then there was my mother.

The way she sat on my porch like she belonged there. Creating scenes. Whispering venom. Smiling when Leandro handed her money like it was some sort of deal.

I was too tired to cry, too drained to scream. So I did what I always did: I shut down.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, slicing through the silence. I turned my head lazily toward it.

Unknown Number.

I frowned.

A spam call? A wrong number? I almost ignored it, but something in me stirred—a gut feeling, like a finger tracing down my spine.

I picked it up. “Hello?”

Silence.

I sat up slightly, my voice firmer this time. “Hello?”

The voice that answered was distorted. Low. Calm. Male.

“Be careful around the Rossis.”

My body went rigid. “Who is this?”

“They’re not what you think,” the voice continued. “Especially the one you’re sleeping with.”

The blood in my veins ran cold. “You have the wrong number—”

“No. I don’t. Sofia Flores. That’s your name, right?”

My breath caught.

“I’m calling to warn you,” he said. “Your mother’s been making deals. With the wrong people. And if you’re not careful, you’ll get caught in the middle.”

“What kind of deals?” I whispered.

“You already know.”

And just like that, the call cut.

I stared at the screen, heart racing. One minute. That’s all it had taken. One minute to send my thoughts spiraling.

I clutched the phone tighter, suddenly hyper-aware of how alone I was.

I barely slept.

By morning, the haze in my head hadn’t cleared. I kept replaying the call over and over, trying to make sense of it. Trying to convince myself it wasn’t real. But I knew better. I knew that voice wasn’t lying.

And I had a bad habit of ignoring red flags until they were impossible to unsee.

So I did the next best thing. I grabbed my laptop and started searching.

My mother wasn’t on social media, but she wasn’t exactly careful either. I knew a few names she used for shady stuff. Old aliases. Her middle name, her first husband’s last name. Hell, even the fake business she once started just to collect “funds” from a church.

Most of it turned up nothing.

But when I typed in “Aurelio Rossi + gala + guests,” a blog post popped up.

My heart stilled.

There, in a photo taken two weeks ago, was a blurred image of a woman beside Aurelio. The picture wasn’t clear. Most people would scroll past it. But I recognized that slouched posture. That thick silver hoop earring. That same tacky cheetah print jacket she always wore when she wanted to “look important.”

It was her.

She had been around him. Before the porch scene. Before the show she put on.

Rage started to simmer in my chest.

She knew who he was. She’d known.

And she never said a word.

\----

Her apartment hadn’t changed. The same dusty plant by the door, the same peeling paint on the walls. I didn’t bother knocking gently.

She opened the door with a forced smile, like she hadn’t just upended my entire life.

“Well, if it isn’t the golden girl,” she said. “Come to bring more cash?”

“Cut the crap,” I snapped, pushing past her. “How long have you been talking to Aurelio Rossi?”

The door clicked shut behind me. “Sofia—”

“How long?” I turned to face her, the photo still fresh in my head. “He’s Leandro’s brother. You knew that. You knew what kind of trouble he brings.”

She shrugged. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is,” I shot back. “You let him use you. You let him use me.”

“I never let anyone use you.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “You’ve been using me since I was fifteen. Don’t play innocent now.”

Her jaw tightened, but her voice softened. “He said you were in danger. That your boss is not safe.”

“And you believed him?”

“You’re falling for him, aren’t you?” she said, squinting. “He’s rich. Powerful. And he’s already in your bed.”

My hands balled into fists. “That’s none of your business.”

“Oh, but it is.” Her lips curled. “Because the moment you fall too deep, you’ll end up drowning. And I’m the only one who’s ever been there to pull you out.”

I stared at her.

“I took the money,” she added, crossing her arms. “Yes. And I’d take it again. Because you don’t know what men like them are capable of. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. You think he’s special? That he’s different?”

I was shaking now. “You didn’t do this for me. You did it for you. You always do.”

Her expression faltered, just slightly. And in that crack, I saw the truth.

“I’m not your pawn,” I said, voice trembling. “And I won’t be Aurelio’s either.”

I turned to leave.

And this time, she didn’t stop me.

But as I reached the door, she said something so low, so venom-laced, I felt it crawl down my spine.

“You think he loves you? Wait until he has to choose between you and his empire.”

I didn’t answer.

Because if I did, I’d scream.