Chapter 28
Sophia's POV
Each hour marked by the anxious glance at my phone screen. Nothing. No call, no text, no word from Vito about whether our arrangement still stood, whether David was safe, whether anything that had happened in his office yesterday meant anything at all.
What if he's changed his mind about everything?
The thought sent panic coursing through me. David's life hung in the balance. Alfonso's medical care depended on this alliance. My family's survival rested on Vito Romano's whims, and I had no idea where I stood with him anymore.
By dawn, I couldn't take the silence any longer.
I dialed Romano Industries, my fingers trembling as I waited for someone to answer.
"Romano Industries, how may I direct your call?"
"I need to speak with Vito Romano," I said, trying to inject confidence into my voice. "This is his fiancée, Isabella Cohen."
His fiancée. The lie felt strange on my tongue, but it was the only way to ensure they'd take me seriously.
"I'm sorry, Miss Cohen, but Mr. Romano isn't in the office today," the receptionist replied with professional courtesy. "He's attending to medical matters at Presbyterian Hospital. Would you like me to take a message?"
Presbyterian Hospital. My heart began to race. Had something happened to him?
"Which floor?" I asked quickly.
"I'm sorry, I can't provide specific location details for security reasons. But if you'd like to leave a message—"
"No, thank you," I interrupted, already reaching for my coat. "I'll find him."
The taxi ride to Presbyterian felt like it took hours, though the driver assured me it was less than twenty minutes. I sat in the back seat, my mind racing with possibilities. What if David was there? What if this was all some elaborate setup? What if Vito had been injured and I'd never get the chance to secure David's release?
Stop it, I told myself firmly. Panic won't help anyone.
The hospital's main lobby was bustling with the usual morning activity—visitors, medical staff, patients being wheeled to various appointments. I approached the information desk, scanning the directory for any clue about where Vito might be.
"Excuse me," I asked the volunteer at the information desk, a kindly-looking older woman with silver hair. "I'm looking for someone who's visiting a patient here today. Vito Romano?"
She consulted her computer screen, then shook her head. "I'm sorry, dear. I can't provide information about visitors for privacy reasons. Do you know which patient they might be visiting?"
"Maria Castellano?" I tried, hoping the name I'd overheard might help.
"Let me check... Yes, she's in the medical wing, floor three. But you'd need to check with the nurses' station about visiting hours and approval."
Third floor. My heart hammered as I made my way to the elevators, not knowing what I'd find but desperate to get answers about David's fate.
The medical wing was quieter than the main lobby, filled with the hushed tones and controlled urgency that marked serious healthcare environments. I followed the signs toward the nurses' station, scanning each room I passed for any sign of Vito.
That's when I saw him.
Through the open door of a private room, I caught sight of an expensive wheelchair and the unmistakable figure of the man who'd dominated my thoughts for the past twenty-four hours. But he wasn't alone.
A woman sat in another wheelchair beside him—young, blonde, fragile-looking in a way that immediately tugged at sympathetic heartstrings. She was beautiful in an ethereal way, like a damaged angel who'd fallen too far and too hard. Her thin hand rested in Vito's, and even from the doorway, I could see the intimate way she leaned toward him, seeking comfort and protection.
This must be Maria.
The sight hit me like a physical blow. Here was the woman who'd pulled Vito away from our negotiation. Seeing them together—the careful way he held her hand, the protective angle of his body toward her—made something twist painfully in my chest.
He cares about her. Really cares.
I should have felt relief. If Vito had found someone else to focus his attention on, someone who could claim his loyalty and devotion, then maybe he'd be more willing to release me from our arrangement. Maybe I could walk away from this nightmare and find another way to help my family.
Instead, I felt... abandoned. Used and discarded, like a toy he'd grown bored with the moment something shinier caught his eye.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked softly on the doorframe. "Excuse me. Could we talk?"
Vito looked up, his expression shifting from gentle concern to something colder, more guarded. The contrast was striking—moments before, his face had been soft with compassion as he'd gazed at Maria. Now, looking at me, his features hardened into the mask of controlled authority I'd come to recognize.
But it was Maria's reaction that caught me off guard. Her grip on Vito's hand tightened visibly, and tears welled up in her eyes as she looked from him to me and back again.
"Don't leave me," she whispered, her voice breaking with desperate need. "Please don't leave me. I need you."
The raw vulnerability in her plea made my heart clench with unexpected sympathy. Whatever this woman had been through, whatever had reduced her to this fragile state, she was clearly terrified of being abandoned. And Vito... Vito responded by gripping her hand more tightly, his thumb stroking across her knuckles in a gesture of comfort and reassurance.
"What do you need?" he asked me, his attention still partially focused on the woman beside him.
Straight to business. No acknowledgment of what had happened between us yesterday, no reference to the intimate demands he'd made or the way my body had responded to his commands. Just cold professionalism, as if I were any other business acquaintance seeking a brief audience.
"I want you to release David," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. "I completed your..." I paused, acutely aware of Maria's presence and not wanting to reveal the degrading details of what Vito had demanded. "I fulfilled our agreement yesterday."
"Is that all?" His tone was dismissive, already suggesting this conversation was over.
That's it? That's all the consideration I get?
"Yes," I said quietly. "That's all."
"I'll ensure Dr. Rosenberg is released safely," Vito replied with the casual efficiency of someone checking items off a to-do list. "As for the marriage arrangement..."
He trailed off, his gaze shifting back to Maria, who was watching our exchange with growing distress. Her free hand moved to rest on his arm, a possessive gesture that spoke of deep emotional attachment.
"It's fine," I heard myself saying, though the words felt strange and hollow. "I don't mind about the marriage. I care more about David's safety than anything else."
Where did that come from?
Even as I spoke, I realized it was partially true. Seeing Vito with Maria, witnessing the gentle way he treated her, the obvious care and protection he offered—it made me understand that I didn't want to be the obligation he was forced to marry. I didn't want to be the political alliance that stood between him and someone he actually wanted to be with.
"I can see you're concerned about her," I continued, nodding toward Maria. "I don't have any interest in complicating your life or coming between you and someone you care about."
Vito's eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was trying to read between the lines of what I was saying. But Maria's soft sob of relief suggested she'd understood my meaning perfectly.
"Thank you," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Thank you for understanding."
I'm being noble, I thought with bitter amusement. How wonderfully mature of me.
"As long as David is safe," I said to Vito, "that's all that matters to me."
He nodded curtly. "You have my word."
There was nothing left to say. I'd accomplished what I'd come here to do—secured David's release and apparently freed Vito to pursue whatever relationship he wanted with this mysterious woman from his past. I should have felt victorious, or at least relieved.
Instead, I felt empty.
The hospital's front entrance was busy with the usual flow of visitors and medical staff when I finally made my way outside. The morning sun felt too bright after the subdued lighting of the medical wing, and I had to squint as I searched for a taxi to take me home.
It's over, I told myself. David will be safe, and I can figure out another way to help Alfonso and fix our family's financial problems.
But even as I tried to convince myself this was the best possible outcome, something nagged at the back of my mind. The way Vito had looked at me when I'd said I didn't care about the marriage arrangement—there had been something in his expression I couldn't quite interpret. Surprise? Disappointment? Relief?
I was so lost in thought that I almost walked past the commotion near the hospital's main entrance. An elderly man in an expensive wool coat was gesturing frantically at a taxi driver, his silver-headed walking cane tapping anxiously against the pavement.
"I told you, take me to Romano Industries," the old man was saying, his voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. "Not some random office building downtown."
The taxi driver, clearly frustrated, threw his hands up. "Look, pops, the address you gave me doesn't exist. There's no 'Romano Tower' at that location. Maybe you got it mixed up?"
"I am not 'mixed up,'" the elderly man replied with icy dignity. "I have been visiting my grandson's office for twenty years. I know exactly where it is."
The driver was already getting back into his taxi. "Sorry, old man. Find yourself another ride."
As the taxi pulled away, leaving the elderly gentleman stranded on the sidewalk, I found myself stepping forward without thinking.
"Excuse me," I said gently. "Are you looking for Romano Industries? The building on Fifth Avenue?"
The old man turned to face me, and I was struck by his sharp, intelligent eyes.
"Yes, exactly," he said, his demeanor softening considerably. "That incompetent driver insisted there was no such place. Young people today have no respect for their elders, no understanding of how to conduct business properly."
"The problem is probably that it's listed under Romano Holdings in most directories," I explained. "A lot of drivers wouldn't know to look for it that way. Would you like me to call you another taxi and give them the correct address?"
His weathered face broke into a smile of genuine gratitude. "That would be most kind of you, my dear."
As I pulled out my phone to call for another car, those sharp eyes studied my face with sudden intensity, and I saw recognition dawn in his expression.
"You're Isabella Cohen, aren't you?" he said with surprising certainty.
My heart nearly stopped. I opened my mouth to correct him—to explain that I was actually Sophia, the twin sister who'd been thrust into this role by circumstance and desperation. But something about the man's demeanor, the way he watched me with such keen interest, made me hesitate.
"I—" I started, but he was already continuing.
"I'm Romano," he said with old-world courtesy, extending his hand. "Vito's grandfather. I was actually coming here to find him, as it happens. What a fortuitous meeting this is."
Vito's grandfather. The patriarch of the Romano family, the man whose approval could make or break the very alliance I'd just walked away from. My mouth went dry as I realized the magnitude of this encounter.
The words "I'm not Isabella" died on my lips as I processed what he'd said. This was the man who'd arranged my sister's engagement to Vito, who'd negotiated the marriage that was supposed to save my family. If I told him the truth now—that Isabella had fled, that I was just her replacement, that the entire arrangement was built on deception—what would happen to David? To Alfonso? To my family?
"It's... it's an honor to meet you, sir," I managed, accepting his handshake with trembling fingers.
"The honor is entirely mine, my dear," he replied with genuine warmth. "I've been very much looking forward to meeting my grandson's intended bride. You're even more lovely than your father described."
His intended bride. The words hit me like a physical blow. Apparently, Vito's grandfather hadn't received any word about changes to the arrangement. Did that mean Vito hadn't actually called off the engagement? Had I misunderstood his response in the hospital room?
"Thank you," I said weakly, not knowing how else to respond.
"Tell me," he continued, his sharp eyes studying my face, "what brings you to the hospital today? I hope no one in your family is unwell?"
"No, nothing like that," I said quickly. "I was just... visiting someone."
"How thoughtful. And speaking of visiting—perhaps you could help an old man navigate this maze of a hospital? I'm here to see Vito, but these modern buildings are so confusing. All these elevators and directories..." He gestured helplessly at the bustling lobby.
What could I say? I could hardly abandon an elderly man who was clearly struggling, especially not Vito's grandfather. And despite the complications it would create, part of me was desperate to understand what was really happening with the engagement.
"Of course," I heard myself saying. "I believe he's on the third floor."
"Excellent. Perhaps you could accompany me? I confess, I could use a young person's guidance with these modern contraptions."
The elevator ride felt endless. Romano Senior filled the silence with gentle questions about my family, my interests, my thoughts about the upcoming marriage. Each query felt like navigating a minefield—I had to give answers that would satisfy him without revealing that I wasn't the person he thought I was.
"Your father speaks very highly of you," he said as we reached the third floor. "He seems quite proud of his eldest daughter's accomplishments in school."
"Education is important," I said diplomatically, hoping the generic response would satisfy him.
"Indeed it is. And family loyalty above all else," he replied with a meaningful look. "I understand there have been some... adjustments to the wedding timeline recently?"
My stomach dropped. "Adjustments?"
"Nothing to worry about, my dear. These things happen in complex family arrangements. The important thing is that both families remain committed to the alliance."
Both families remain committed. So the engagement wasn't off. Whatever I'd interpreted from Vito's response in Maria's hospital room, it clearly hadn't reached his grandfather. The realization made my head spin—was I still expected to marry him? Had my gracious withdrawal been premature?
We found the medical wing easily enough, and I led Romano Senior toward the room where I'd left Vito with Maria. As we approached, I could see through the doorway that Maria was being wheeled back from whatever procedure or test she'd undergone, looking even more fragile in the harsh fluorescent lighting.
"Vito," his grandfather called out as we reached the doorway.
Vito looked up, his eyes immediately finding mine over his grandfather's head.
"I've brought someone to see you," Romano Senior continued with obvious satisfaction, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder in a gesture that felt both protective and possessive.
The silence that followed was deafening. Maria's eyes widened as she looked from Vito to me, clearly trying to process this new dynamic. Her grip on his hand tightened visibly, as if she feared I might somehow steal him away.
And Vito... Vito's jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, the only sign of his internal reaction to this unexpected reunion.
"Grandfather," he said finally, his voice carefully controlled. "This is unexpected."
"Is it?" the old man replied with a hint of amusement. "I specifically mentioned I'd be coming by to discuss wedding preparations. Though I admit, I didn't expect to find you here instead of at the office."
Wedding preparations. The words hung in the air like a challenge, and I found myself caught between competing currents of confusion and dread. Clearly, Vito hadn't informed his grandfather about any changes to our arrangement. But what did that mean? Was the engagement still on, or was this simply a matter of poor communication?
"This," Romano Senior announced with unmistakable pride, placing his hand firmly on my shoulder, "is your fiancée."
Maria's face went pale, her free hand moving to cover her mouth in shock. The sound she made—part gasp, part sob—cut through the hospital air like a blade.
And Vito... Vito looked directly at me for the first time since his grandfather's announcement, his dark eyes unreadable behind those expensive sunglasses.