Chapter 3 Shadows and Sunshine

Sofia

By the time my driver, Matteo,texted that he was parked by the front gate, the sun was already dipping low behind the campus buildings, throwing long shadows across the courtyard.

I slipped my phone into my bag and gathered my books, brushing invisible lint from my skirt.

The fountain behind me gurgled quietly, filling the courtyard with a sound that should have been peaceful.

But something...wasn't right.

I glanced around, frowning.

There was no one near me anymore - the courtyard had emptied out after the afternoon classes ended - but I couldn't shake the feeling that someone had been watching me.

The kind of feeling that prickled along the back of your neck, light and persistent, no matter how many times you told yourself it was nothing.

Maybe I was just tired.

Or maybe it was another reminder that my life wasn't really my own.

I sighed and headed across the courtyard, weaving between the benches and trees as I made my way toward the gates where Matteo always waited.

I should have seen them coming.

I should have known.

Them - Valeria Marino and her little pack of vultures - were leaning casually against the stone wall by the pathway, pretending not to see me.

Pretending so hard that it was obvious they had been waiting for me.

"Hey, princess," Valeria called out, her voice sharp and syrupy all at once.

I kept walking.

I had learned a long time ago that if you didn't give them anything, they eventually got bored.

Bullies fed on reactions - tears, anger, fear.

I gave them nothing.

But that didn't mean they didn't try.

"You lost your crown?" another girl sneered, stepping into my path.

"Maybe Daddy forgot to buy you a new one."

I stiffened but didn't stop.

Didn't even look at them.

Another voice chimed in from my left, low and cutting.

"Bet she's running to her little bodyguard. Must be nice to have someone clean up after you when you cry."

They didn't know anything.

Not really.

But they knew enough.

Enough to twist the knife.

Keep walking, Sofia, I told myself.

You're almost there.

The black town car came into view just past the gate.

Matteo stood by the passenger side door, arms crossed, sunglasses hiding his eyes.

A silent, immovable wall between me and the world.

The girls fell away as I approached the gate, their laughter peeling off me like smoke.

I didn't let myself breathe until Matteo pulled open the car door and I slid inside, sinking into the cool leather seat like it was a shield.

He didn't say anything.

He didn't have to.

I knew he saw everything.

I stared out the window as we pulled away from the curb, the campus shrinking behind me.

Somewhere out there - in the sea of faces and footsteps - someone had been watching me.

I didn't know why that thought wouldn't leave me alone.

Didn't know why it burrowed under my skin like a splinter I couldn't dig out.

Maybe I was imagining it.

Maybe I was just tired.

Or maybe -

Maybe the world I had been carefully groomed to inherit was about to become far more dangerous than I had ever realized.

The D'Angelo estate rose in front of me like a stone giant - tall, cold, and too perfect.

White columns framed the massive front doors.

Manicured hedges lined the drive in rigid, mathematical patterns.

Not a leaf out of place.

Not a flaw in sight.

Like everything else in my family's world.

I stepped out of the car, smoothing down my skirt automatically, and climbed the marble steps with measured, silent steps.

Matteo stayed by the car.

He always did.

Never crossing the invisible line between protector and servant.

I didn't blame him.

No one crossed lines here.

Inside, the house was heavy with silence - the kind that weighed on your chest until it hurt to breathe.

I handed my bag to the housekeeper without meeting her eyes and headed toward the dining room, where I knew my parents would already be waiting.

Dinner wasn't a meal in our house.

It was an event.

Every night, without fail.

A table so long it could have hosted a small army stretched between my father and me.

Fine crystal glasses gleamed under the chandelier's unforgiving light.

Silverware gleamed like a row of tiny weapons.

My father sat at the head of the table, posture rigid, dressed in a dark suit even though he hadn't left the house all day.

My mother perched to his right, her hands folded neatly in her lap, a smile frozen in place like she'd been carved from ice.

I slid into my chair - three seats down - and folded my hands just as neatly, pretending not to feel the invisible distance yawning between us.

No one spoke right away.

Conversation was...strategic in the D'Angelo house.

Never casual.

Never warm.

The butler poured wine into my father's glass.

Water into mine.

I waited.

Finally, my father cleared his throat.

"You'll be attending the Santiago benefit this Friday," he said, as if informing me of the weather.

"Adrian will escort you."

I tightened my fingers in my lap, the only sign of my disobedience.

The only rebellion I dared.

"I have an exam Friday night," I said, voice calm and even.

A flash of irritation crossed his face before smoothing out again, like a wave over sharp stones.

"Reschedule it," he said simply.

My mother nodded along, her diamond earrings catching the light like tiny blades.

I stared down at my plate, at the delicate arrangement of roasted vegetables and seared meat I barely tasted.

It wasn't a request.

It never was.

Everything in my life was a transaction.

An expectation.

A deal struck behind closed doors, without my voice, without my consent.

Adrian Santiago wasn't a man I loved.

He wasn't even a man I liked.

But he was convenient.

Solid.

Safe.

Exactly the kind of man my father would hand me over to without hesitation.

For power.

For legacy.

For pride.

A small rebellion simmered in my chest, bitter and sharp.

I smiled - a perfect, obedient daughter's smile - and nodded.

"I understand."

The conversation moved on.

Stock prices.

Political favors.

The kind of things that mattered in my parents' world.

Not love.

Not dreams.

Not me.

I ate mechanically, every bite tasting like dust.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, the feeling from earlier still lingered - a whisper of unseen eyes, a promise of change riding on the air like a coming storm.

I didn't know it yet.

But my life, my carefully caged existence, was already beginning to crack.

And when the walls finally crumbled -

There would be no going back.