Sophia's POV
The heat flooding my cheeks was unbearable. I scrambled off the stranger's lap, my hands shaking as I smoothed down my wrinkled blouse.
"I'm so incredibly sorry," I stammered, backing away from the wheelchair. "I wasn't watching where I was going, and I—"
"No harm done," he said smoothly, "Though I have to say, that's quite an unconventional way to introduce yourself."
Tony's glare could have melted steel. "Sir, we should call security—"
"That won't be necessary." The man's voice carried absolute authority, the kind that made grown men step back without question. "Accidents happen."
I needed to leave. Now. Before I said something stupid, before I started connecting dots that couldn't possibly connect, before the familiar scent of cedar and bergamot completely unraveled what was left of my sanity.
"I really should go," I said quickly, already turning away. "Again, I'm so sorry for—"
"Wait."
That single word stopped me cold. Something in his tone—commanding yet oddly gentle—made me turn back despite every instinct screaming at me to run.
He tilted his head slightly, those dark sunglasses aimed directly at me with unsettling precision. "You're upset about something. Something more than just bumping into me."
How could he possibly know that? He couldn't even see me.
"I'm fine," I lied.
"Your breathing is irregular, your voice is shaking, and unless I'm mistaken, you've been crying."
The accuracy of his observation sent a chill down my spine. This man might be blind and disabled, but he was clearly far more dangerous than his condition suggested.
"I have to go," I said firmly, turning away again.
This time he didn't try to stop me.
-
Alfonso's room was exactly as I'd left it two days ago, and my baby brother lying motionless in the center of it all. For two years, this had been his world. A prison of machines and IV drips and the constant hope that today might be the day he opened his eyes.
I sank into the familiar chair beside his bed, taking his limp hand in mine.
"Hey, little brother," I whispered, fighting back tears. "I'm in trouble. Big trouble. And I don't know what to do."
Alfonso's face was peaceful in sleep, unmarked by the chaos surrounding our family. He looked younger than his twenty years, innocent in a way that seemed impossible given everything that had happened.
"I found out about Michael and Isabella today," I continued, my voice breaking. "They've been... they've been together for a year, Alfonso. A whole year, and I never knew. I'm such an idiot."
The machines beeped their steady rhythm, the only response I'd get.
"And now Daddy wants me to marry someone else. Some mafia boss who supposedly can't walk or see, but Alfonso..." I squeezed his hand tighter. "There's something wrong with that story. Something that doesn't add up. And if I'm right, if we try to deceive him, we could all end up dead."
Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside, but I didn't look up. I'd cried enough today. I was done being weak.
"I wish you were awake," I whispered. "You always knew what to do. You always made everything make sense."
"Sophia."
My father's voice cut through the silence like a blade. I turned to find him standing in the doorway.
"We need to talk."
I didn't want to leave Alfonso, but my father's expression brooked no argument.
My father closed the door behind us and gestured for me to sit. I remained standing.
"You've had time to think," he said without preamble. "What's your decision?"
"I want to know something first." The words came out stronger than I felt. "Isabella and I are both your daughters, but you've only ever loved her. You know where she is right now, don't you? You could bring her back, make her fulfill this obligation. But instead you're letting her run off with my fiancé while you try to force me into taking her place."
My father's jaw tightened, but he didn't deny it.
"Tell me the truth, Daddy. Am I really your daughter? Or am I just the backup plan you keep around in case your precious Isabella disappoints you?"
"You are my daughter," he said quietly. "And that's exactly why I need you to do this."
"What does that even mean?"
"It means that because you're my daughter, you have a responsibility to this family. To keep us alive, to protect what we've built, to ensure Alfonso gets the care he needs."
I felt tears threatening again, but I blinked them back. "And what about Vito Romano? What happens when he finds out we've deceived him? You've heard the stories, haven't you? About what he does to people who cross him?"
The memories came flooding back—whispered conversations in hospital break rooms, nurses talking in hushed tones about the Romano family's latest victims. A businessman who'd tried to cheat them out of a deal, found floating in the East River with concrete shoes. A politician who'd refused their campaign contributions, discovered in his car with three bullets in his head. And those were just the stories that made it to the news.
The man was ruthless before his accident. Afterward, the rumors suggested he'd become something far worse—paranoid, violent, quick to assume betrayal where none existed. They said he'd had his own men executed for imagined slights, that his disability had only sharpened his cruelty.
"You're talking about one of the most dangerous men in New York," I said, my voice rising. "Someone who's supposedly killed people for less than what we're planning to do to him. And you think I can just waltz in there and fool him?"
"You look almost exactly like Isabella," my father replied calmly. "As long as you're smart about it, there's no reason he'd ever suspect the deception."
I shook my head violently. "You're insane. This will never work."
"It will work because it has to work." His voice hardened. "Because the alternative is losing everything—the business, the house, Alfonso's medical care. Everything."
"There has to be another way—"
"There is no other way! Do you think I haven't explored every option? Do you think I'd be here, asking this of you, if there was any other choice?"
"I'm giving you one day to think about it," he said finally, his voice deadly calm. "Twenty-four hours to decide. If you don't accept by tomorrow evening, I'll authorize the hospital to discontinue Alfonso's care. The choice is yours, Sophia. Your brother's life is in your hands."
"How can you do this to me?" I whispered.
"Because I love you both too much to let you die," he replied. "And make no mistake, Sophia—if this family goes down, we all go down. Including Alfonso."
He turned and walked toward the door, his footsteps echoing in the small room.
"Twenty-four hours," he repeated without looking back. "After that, the choice will be made for you."