Antonio's POV:

The estate was unnaturally quiet that morning, a stillness that settled over everything like a heavy fog. It had been six months since Isabella walked away, and though I had told myself I wouldn't wait forever, her absence gnawed at me. Every day, I was reminded of what I'd lost. Her voice. Her laughter. The way she could ground me in the chaos of this life.

I had given her time and space, just as she had asked. But that time had done nothing but harden the edges of my anger.

I was furious—not just at her, but at myself, at Elena, at everything that had led us to this point. Isabella had said she needed to heal, to figure things out, but what about me? 

What about the damage her departure had left in her wake? 

She wasn't the only one who had been hurt.

And now, with the annual gala in Naple just days away, her absence felt sharper than ever. The gala was one of the most significant events of the year—a chance to showcase strength and unity within the mafia families. Isabella and I had wanted to attend it, our partnership a symbol of stability. Without her by my side, I knew the whispers would start. Questions about my vulnerability. Questions about whether Antonio Bianchi could hold his empire together after losing her.

I couldn't afford to show weakness. 

Not now. 

Not ever.

If Isabella wasn't going to stand beside me, then I needed someone else. Someone capable, someone who could project the image of power and control I needed to maintain. 

And despite everything, Sofia was the only option.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the glass of whiskey in my hand. The amber liquid swirled as I rotated my wrist, my mind running through the pros and cons of involving Sofia again. She had caused enough trouble to last a lifetime—her obsession with me, her manipulation, the web of lies she had spun. I had seen through her now, knew what she was capable of, and I had every reason to cast her aside.

But Sofia was also relentless, fiercely loyal in her own twisted way. Despite her faults, she understood the stakes, the importance of appearances. She had played the role of my ally well enough before, and I needed her to do it again.

Still, the thought of her standing where Isabella should have been filled me with a bitter resentment. But resentment wasn't going to solve my problems. Anger wasn't going to keep the wolves at bay. If I had to play the game, I would do it on my terms.

"Sofia," I muttered, testing the name as if it carried a weight I wasn't sure I could bear.

I grabbed my phone and sent for her. A curt message, nothing more. I didn't owe her explanations. Moments later, a knock at my office door signaled her arrival.

She stepped into the room, her usual confidence radiating from every movement. She wore a tailored black dress that hugged her figure, the sharp lines matching the gleam of determination in her eyes.

"You called for me, Antonio?" she asked, her voice smooth, her expression unreadable.

I didn't bother with pleasantries. "There's a gala in three days," I said, my tone cold and businesslike. "I need someone to accompany me."

Her lips curved into a small smile, though there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. "And you're asking me? After everything?"

I stood, crossing the room to face her. "This isn't about you, Sofia. This is about the image we need to project. I can't show up alone, and Isabella..." Her name felt like a thorn in my side, but I forced myself to continue. "She's not coming back."

Sofia tilted her head, studying me with that calculating gaze I had come to recognize. "So I'm your backup plan," she said, her voice tinged with amusement. "I'm honored."

"This isn't a choice," I snapped, my patience wearing thin. "It's an obligation. You've proven yourself capable before, despite the damage you've caused. Don't make me regret this."

Her smile faltered for a moment, replaced by something more serious. "I understand. You can count on me."

I narrowed my eyes, searching her face for any sign of deception. But if Sofia was hiding anything, she was doing it well. She had always been good at masking her true intentions, at playing whatever role was required of her.

"There are conditions," I said, my voice firm. "This is strictly professional. No games. No manipulations. You're there to play the part, nothing more."

She nodded, her expression uncharacteristically subdued. "Understood."

I turned away, moving to the window and staring out at the estate grounds. "The dress fittings, security arrangements, everything—handle it. I want this to go flawlessly."

"It will," she replied, her voice steady. "You have my word."

I didn't respond, letting the silence stretch between us. After a moment, I heard her footsteps retreating, the door clicking shut behind her. I exhaled, the tension in my chest easing slightly. The decision had been made, and there was no turning back now.

As the day wore on, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered after my conversation with Sofia. Trusting her again, even in this limited capacity, felt like playing with fire. 

But what choice did I have? 

Isabella was gone, and I couldn't face the gala alone.

That evening, I found myself back in my office, nursing another glass of whiskey as the weight of the decision settled over me. I stared at the empty chair across from my desk, the memory of Isabella sitting there, laughing softly as she teased me about my brooding nature.

"You're always so serious, Antonio," she had once said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Smile every now and then. It won't kill you."

I closed my eyes, the memory cutting through me like a knife. It wasn't just her presence I missed—it was the way she balanced me, grounded me. Without her, I felt like a ship adrift, lost in a sea of anger and regret.

Sofia could never replace her. 

No one could. 

But for now, she would have to do.

Over the next two days, the preparations for the gala unfolded with meticulous precision. Sofia threw herself into the role with a determination that bordered on obsessive. She handled every detail, from the fitting of her dress to the logistics of our arrival, ensuring that everything was perfect.

But even as she worked tirelessly, I couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. Sofia was too eager, too willing. She had caused so much chaos in my life already, and I couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't finished yet.

As I stood in the dressing room on the evening of the gala, adjusting my tie in the mirror, I felt the weight of the decision pressing down on me. This wasn't just about appearances—it was about survival. And no matter how much I hated the idea of relying on Sofia, I couldn't afford to falter now.

The knock at the door came right on time, and I turned to see Sofia standing there, dressed in an elegant black gown that accentuated her figure. She looked every bit the part of someone who belonged by my side, and yet, the sight of her only reminded me of what I had lost.

"Ready?" she asked, her voice smooth, her expression calm.

I nodded, forcing the anger and bitterness to the back of my mind. "Let's get this over with."

As we left the room and made our way to the car, I couldn't help but wonder what Isabella would think if she saw me now, standing beside Sofia as though nothing had happened. 

Would she see it as a betrayal?

Or would she see it for what it was—a necessary move in a game neither of us could afford to lose?

The answers didn't matter. Not tonight.

Tonight, I had a role to play. 

And for better or worse, Sofia was the one standing by my side.

It's been a while, I hope you liked this chapter !