Giovanni Russo didn't sleep that night, Not really and after the memory of his father's words sharp, unyielding and like a blade disguised as authority echoed in his mind with every tick of his grandfather clock in the mansion's empty halls.
"You will marry within a year or walk away with nothing."
The ultimatum hadn't been delivered as a suggestion or even a request but had been a decree, cold and absolute like every decision Leonardo Russo had ever made.
Giovanni's fists had clenched as he listened, every fiber of his being rebelling against the notion of being controlled again and manipulated into a choice he didn't want to make.
He had thought of walking away, leaving the empire, leaving the mansion and leaving everything.
But the idea had only deepened the weight in his chest with legacy being a burden and freedom was fleeting, with his mind he had already started calculating the only path that could make sense: a contract marriage.
A union bound by rules, obligations, and a heart shielded against betrayal and with that his thoughts turned, inevitably to Sophia.
She had been the first woman who had seen him not the heir to the empire, not the cold dis-interested son, but the boy who had loved, lost and carried scars no one else cared to notice. She had known the quiet demeanor that lived beneath his public charm and had touched it without fear and If there was anyone who could understand why he needed to guard his heart, it was her.
But before the clarity of his plan solidified, his mind drifted against his will, to the ghosts that had shaped him.
A flashback hit him like a gust of winter wind:
(He was eight, standing in the grand hallway of the mansion, his small fists trembling at the marble staircase. His mother's laughter soft, warm and alive had faded into silence. He remembered the night she had died, sudden and cruel. The house, once full of light, had been plunged into shadows. Leonardo had retreated into cold indifference, Francesca's stepmotherly influence already creeping in But only Aunt Maria had remained, a quiet flame of love in a world that no longer made sense.
Maria's hands had always been gentle, guiding him, comforting him and reminding him that he was worthy of care. "You are stronger than you know," she had whispered, brushing his hair back from his forehead, and no one can take that away from you.)
Another flash back:
(The day Francesca had orchestrated her dismissal. Giovanni had been twelve and had watched through the grand window as she gathered her few belongings, her eyes wet and her shoulders shaking while Leonardo's expression remained unreadable, manipulated by Francesca's subtle poison. That day, Giovanni had felt a fissure open inside him. Love had been ripped away, and the world had proven itself cruel.)
He clenched his teeth and made a decision the one he would refine in the years to come; love must be calculated, trust must be earned and no one could be allowed to control him again.
The morning after his father's ultimatum, Giovanni strode through the corridors of the mansion with the calm confidence of a man who had seen betrayal, loss, and manipulation and refused to be broken by it. He knew the world he inhabited, the players and he also knew exactly who at this point in his life could be the partner to navigate it with him.
"Sophia."
The thought of her stirred a mix of longing and irritation and he let it.
She was smart, intuitive and had seen the parts of him that even the empire's walls could not hide and had once been the one person capable of tempering the storm inside him and In his mind there was no one else.
And so with purpose in every step, he left the mansion that night, the cold night air biting at his skin and the lake shimmering like a sheet of fractured silver.
He made his way to the nightclub where he knew she would be.
The nightclub roared with life but with that of a chaotic symphony of bass, chatter and laughter.
Neon lights cut through the smoke in sharp slices, reflecting off mirrored walls and glittering bottles. Giovanni's eyes moved with laser focus, scanning the crowd and searching but the moment he saw her, his chest tightened and his pulse spiked.
Sophia leaned against a stranger and her head thrown back in laughter with the stranger's arm rested lightly around her waist, casual and confident.
Her hand brushed his shoulder, her hair catching the strobe light like fire.
Giovanni's breath hitched and his jaw tightening and with that he stepped closer, weaving through bodies without hesitation casually ignoring the curious glances of those who recognized him.
His voice, low and dangerous, cut across the music. "Sophia."
She turned slowly, eyes locking on him, a sharp flicker of defiance in her gaze. "Gio," she said, almost casually. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Who is he?" Giovanni's tone left no room for evasion.
She lifted her chin, cool and measured. "Someone I know. Why?" she said.
"Why?" His laugh was bitter, short, like a blade scraping stone. "Because you're here, with him, close enough to touch him, and you think I won't notice?"
The stranger straightened, jaw tight. "Look, I don't want trouble. She's with me and…."
Giovanni's eyes snapped to him, sharp and unyielding. "Step back. This is between me and her."
The man didn't flinch. "Not if you're yelling at her like that! You are way out of the line and besides she's not yours to control!"
Giovanni's fists clenched, knuckles whitening. "Out of line? You have no idea what betrayal feels like!"
Sophia crossed her arms, unflinching. "And now what, Gio? You think I'm the villain here? I have my own life, my own choices! I'm not your possession."
The stranger moved closer, hand hovering near her. Giovanni's gaze snapped to him, razor-sharp. "Stay out of this or you'll regret it."
"I'm not afraid of you," the man said, voice low and steady. "She doesn't need your permission to live her life."
Giovanni lunged but the stranger blocked him, and suddenly the world narrowed to two figures circling each other like predators. Drinks rattled on tables, people shouted, and the music became a background hum. Giovanni's heart pounded in his ears, every muscle taut, every nerve alive.
"You think you can protect her better than I can?" Giovanni hissed, voice barely above the roar of his own anger.
"And you think yelling gives you that right?" the stranger shot back. "She's not yours!"
Sophia's voice rang out, cutting and sharp, slicing through the tension. "Stop! Both of you! I am not a prize! I am not his and I am not yours!"
Giovanni's chest heaved. "Do you even realize what you're doing? I trusted you and this is how you repay me?"
Her glare didn't waver. "I didn't betray you. I'm alive, Gio! I make my own choices and I don't answer to anyone!"
The stranger shoved Giovanni hard, but Giovanni pushed back just as forcefully. They grappled for a brief, chaotic moment, shoving and spinning, the neon lights flashing across tense faces. Sophia's hand shot out to stop Giovanni, but he ignored it, fire burning in his veins.
"You think you can walk away from this? From me?" he growled, voice low and dangerous.
"I'm not walking away," she snapped, her own anger rising. "I'm standing here, exactly where I want to be and you can't tell me who to be!"
Giovanni took a step forward, fists shaking with every fiber of his being alive with fury. The stranger met his gaze without flinching, and for a moment, the nightclub ceased to exist but just the three of them with tension so thick it could be sliced with a knife.
Sophia's defiance burned like a challenge. "I am not yours, Gio and I never was, and I never will be. Don't act like you can claim me because of your feelings. Don't try to control me because you think you love or understand me."
(Giovanni's chest heaved, every word from her cutting deeper than any physical strike. His hands unclenched slightly, trembling not from fear but from the raw heat of betrayal. He wanted to yell, to strike, to make her see the devastation she'd caused. But her eyes sharp and unyielding held him back in a way that anger alone could not overcome.
The stranger stepped back cautiously, hands raised and unwilling to escalate further.)
Sophia's lips pressed together, her jaw tight, but her eyes didn't waver. "Do what you must, Gio. But understand this; I live for myself. I don't bend and I don't belong to anyone."
(Giovanni took a deep, shuddering breath, the fight inside him settling like a storm passing. He stepped back, finally releasing the tension that had coiled through him like steel. For a fleeting moment, he studied her, the woman he had believed could understand him, could share the weight of his world. But the truth hit him like ice in his veins.
She had chosen herself and had acted in her own interest. She was not the person he had trusted to fulfill that role in his life. The realization cut deeper than any shove or punch could.
With a final glare, he turned sharply and strode toward the exit. Every step was deliberate with unspeakable tiredness with suppressed fury and bitter disappointment. The neon lights flickered across his path, the club's chaos fading behind him and leaving only the echo of a truth that burned hotter than anger; the one person he had trusted, the one he had believed could truly understand and stand with him had proven to be only herself.
The night swallowed him as he left, the music and the shouting behind him, leaving a hollow ache where trust and hope had once lived.)