Sofia's POV:

The moon hung high over the Bianchi estate, casting long, silver shadows across the grounds. The stillness of the night was deceptive; beneath the quiet, there was a restless energy that pulsed like a heartbeat. I watched from the window of my room, my eyes tracking the movement of Antonio's guards as they patrolled the perimeter. They were good—disciplined, vigilant—but not good enough to catch me.

I had spent months working my way into Antonio's inner circle, carefully navigating the treacherous waters of his world. It had taken countless hours of training, endless tests of loyalty, and more than a few moments where I'd had to bury my true intentions so deeply that even I almost believed in the facade. But it had all been worth it. I was finally where I needed to be, and now, it was time to execute my plan.

I turned away from the window, my mind already shifting gears as I went over the details for the hundredth time. Everything had to be perfect. There could be no mistakes, no loose ends. Antonio was a man who thrived on control, who could sense a shift in the air before it even happened. He was the kind of man who trusted his instincts above all else, and that was both his strength and his weakness.

For weeks, I had watched him closely, taking note of his routines, his habits, and his interactions. I learned the times when he was most vulnerable, when his guard was down, and when he was alone. I had paid special attention to the little things—the way he liked his drinks, the medications he took, the times when he retreated to his private study to be alone with his thoughts. I knew Antonio better than anyone, maybe even better than he knew himself.

He was predictable, in a way. 

He had his routines, his habits, his preferences, and it was that predictability that I planned to exploit. The plan was simple: drug Antonio, make him vulnerable, and then step in as the one who could protect him. I needed him to see me not just as a soldier, not just as a bodyguard, but as someone who could be indispensable to him. 

Someone he could rely on when everything else fell apart.

I had the drugs—fast-acting, powerful, but not lethal. They would disorient him, make him pliable, easier to manipulate. The goal wasn't to hurt him, at least not physically. It was to create a scenario where he would need me, where I could be the one to pull him back from the brink. It was a risk, yes, but one I was willing to take. 

Because in the end, it would be worth it. That's what I kept telling myself.

Antonio would see that I was the only one who truly understood him, the only one who could be everything he needed.

The first step was to gain access to his private study, a place where he often retreated late at night when the weight of his world became too much. He liked to drink there, to nurse a glass of whiskey while he poured over his plans and strategies. It was his sanctuary, a place where he could be alone with his thoughts. 

But tonight, it would also be his downfall.

I had already secured the drugs, slipping them into a vial that I kept hidden in my jacket pocket. The dosage was precise—enough to incapacitate him, but not enough to cause permanent damage. He would feel weak, disoriented, unable to think clearly. And that was when I would step in.

I made my way down the hallway, my footsteps silent against the polished marble floor. The house was quiet, the guards stationed outside, and Antonio was alone in his study, just as I had anticipated. I paused outside the door, taking a moment to steady my breathing, to calm the adrenaline that thrummed through my veins. 

This was it. 

The moment I had been planning for, the moment that would change everything.

I knocked softly, just once, then pushed the door open without waiting for a response. Antonio looked up from his desk, a hint of surprise flickering in his eyes. He was sitting behind a large, mahogany desk, a glass of whiskey in his hand and a stack of papers spread out before him.

"Sofia," he said, his voice carrying that familiar note of authority. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought you might want some company," I replied smoothly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind me. "You've been working late."

He studied me for a moment, his gaze sharp and assessing. I could see the wheels turning in his mind, the calculations he was making. Antonio was always thinking, always planning. But tonight, I needed to be one step ahead.

"I'm fine," he said, though there was a hint of weariness in his voice. "Just going over some business."

I moved closer, letting my eyes drift over the room as if I were merely curious. "You're always working, Antonio. It's okay to take a break sometimes."

He raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You sound like Isabella."

The mention of her name was like a knife to the gut, but I kept my expression neutral, my movements fluid as I made my way to the liquor cabinet. "I'm just saying, you can't do everything alone. Sometimes you need to let others help."

I could feel his eyes on me as I reached for the whiskey, my fingers curling around the cool glass bottle. My heart pounded in my chest, but my hands were steady, my movements practiced. I poured a generous amount into a glass, then, with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times, I slipped the vial from my pocket and tipped it into the drink.

It was over in an instant. The liquid swirled briefly, the drugs dissolving seamlessly into the amber liquid. I turned, offering the glass to Antonio with a smile that I hoped looked genuine.

"To taking a break," I said, raising my own glass in a mock toast.

He hesitated, just for a moment, and I held my breath. But then he nodded, taking the glass from my hand and lifting it to his lips. He took a sip, then another, and I felt a rush of triumph as I watched him swallow. It wouldn't take long. The drugs were fast-acting, and within minutes, I would have the opportunity I needed.

I sat down across from him, my heart racing as I watched for any sign of the drugs taking effect. At first, he seemed unaffected, his expression calm as he set the glass down and returned to his papers. But then I saw it—a slight furrow of his brow, a momentary pause in his movements.

He looked up, his eyes narrowing as if trying to focus. "Sofia..."

"Yes?" I kept my tone light, almost casual, as I leaned back in my chair. "What's wrong?"

He blinked, his gaze unfocused as he tried to push through the fog that was settling over his mind. "I don't feel right."

I stood, moving to his side with a concerned expression. "Maybe you've been pushing yourself too hard," I said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You need to rest."

He shook his head, his movements sluggish as he tried to stand. But his legs gave out beneath him, and he stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the desk. "Something's... wrong," he muttered, his voice slurring slightly.

I reached for him, steadying him as he struggled to stay upright. "It's okay," I murmured, guiding him back into the chair. "I'm here. Just relax."

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of recognition, a brief flash of suspicion. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by the haze of the drugs that were coursing through his system. He slumped back in the chair, his breathing heavy, his eyes half-lidded as he fought to stay conscious.

I stood over him, my heart pounding with a mix of triumph and fear. This was it. 

The moment I had been working towards, the moment where I could finally prove that I was the one he needed. 

I reached out, brushing my fingers over his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my touch.

"You're safe," I whispered, my voice soft and soothing. "I'm going to take care of you, Antonio. Just let go."

He tried to speak, but the words were lost, tangled in the fog that clouded his mind. I watched as his eyes fluttered closed, his body sinking deeper into the chair. He was at my mercy now, vulnerable in a way I had never seen him before. 

And I was the one in control.

I knew I couldn't keep him like this forever. The drugs would wear off, and he would wake, confused and disoriented. But in that moment, I would be there, the one who had stayed by his side, the one who had protected him when he was at his weakest. I would be the one he turned to, the one he relied on.

It was a dangerous game I was playing, but I had come too far to turn back now. Antonio was mine, and I would do whatever it took to keep him. I would be the one to save him, to be the rock he could lean on when everything else fell apart.

I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Rest now," I murmured. "I've got you."

As I stood there, watching over him, I couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. This was only the beginning. And whatever came next, I was ready. Antonio would see that I was the only one who truly understood him, the only one who could be everything he needed.

And when he did, he would be mine.