Chapter 5 The First Crack in the Glass

Sofia

I hated the dress before I even put it on.

It hung in my closet like a warning - blood-red silk, low at the back, high at the thigh. A gift from my mother, who claimed, "Appearances matter more than feelings."

It wasn't about what I wanted. It never was.

The Santiago Benefit was the event of the year for families like ours - an endless parade of heirs and alliances disguised as charity.

This year, it was even worse.

Because this year, I wasn't attending alone.

I was going with Adrian Santiago.

Perfect Adrian.

Golden boy.

My future, if my father had his way.

A future I wanted no part of.

I slipped into the dress with a sigh and let Marissa, our in-house stylist, pin my hair in an elegant chignon. I stared at my reflection in the mirror and didn't recognize the girl staring back - poised, polished, and empty.

"You look stunning, miss," Marissa said softly.

I nodded, thanking her automatically.

But inside, all I could think was:

This isn't me.

Adrian was already waiting when I descended the grand staircase.

He smiled - a rehearsed, polite thing - and held out his arm. "You look beautiful, Sofia."

"Thank you," I said, sliding my hand into the crook of his elbow like a marionette.

My parents stood by the door, watching. Judging.

"Remember," my father murmured as we passed, "the future of two empires rests on nights like this."

As if I needed the reminder.

As if my life was a transaction I hadn't even agreed to sign.

The ballroom was a masterpiece of glittering excess - chandeliers dripping crystals, a quartet playing in the corner, the scent of wealth perfuming the air.

Everyone who was anyone was here.

And I hated every second of it.

Adrian guided me through the crowd, smiling, laughing, shaking hands.

I smiled too.

Because that's what good little heiresses did.

Until I felt it.

That same awareness from the courtyard.

A prickle at the base of my neck.

A sensation of being seen.

I turned instinctively.

And there he was.

Across the room, standing by the bar, a glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers like an afterthought. Dark suit. Darker eyes. Watching me.

Not staring, not gawking - watching.

As if he already knew me.

As if he was waiting.

Our eyes locked.

And the world narrowed to just that moment.

I forgot about Adrian.

Forgot about the Santiagos and the D'Angelos and all the chains I wore.

There was just him.

I couldn't breathe.

Someone bumped into me, jolting me back. Adrian touched my waist to steady me.

"You okay?" he asked.

I nodded too quickly. "Fine."

But when I looked back toward the bar, the man was gone.

As if I had imagined him.

As if I had dreamed him into existence.

But I hadn't.

I knew it.

I felt it.

Something in me had shifted.

And somehow, deep down, I knew -

Nothing would ever be the same again.

(Nico's POV)

I saw her the moment she walked in.

I wasn't looking for her.

At least, that's what I told myself.

I'd come to the benefit because it was expected - shake hands, trade smiles, remind the city's elite that the Romano name still carried weight even if they pretended otherwise.

But when I saw her -

everything else disappeared.

Sofia D'Angelo.

Even in a room full of carefully bred perfection, she outshone them all without even trying.

It wasn't the dress, though it fit her like a whispered promise.

It wasn't her beauty, though she had that too - a softness that didn't belong in a place like this.

It was the way she carried herself.

Like a girl raised in a gilded cage who had learned to make her chains look like jewelry.

I watched her glide through the crowd on the arm of Adrian Santiago - the future heir, the good boy, the safe choice.

Anger twisted low in my gut.

Not jealousy. I wasn't that foolish.

But something uglier.

Possessive.

Primal.

She wasn't mine.

She wasn't anyone's.

Yet I already knew -

she would be.

I sipped my whiskey, pretending not to track every step she took.

And then it happened.

She turned.

She looked at me.

Right at me - as if she'd felt me across the distance.

As if some invisible tether had snapped taut between us, dragging her attention from the polished mask she wore so well.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

I saw it in her eyes - that flicker of recognition.

Not of my name.

Not of my reputation.

Something deeper. Instinctive.

Like she already knew I was a storm waiting to happen in her carefully ordered world.

I almost smiled.

Almost.

But then some fool jostled her. Santiago steadied her, touching her too familiarly, and I clenched the glass tighter in my hand until the ice cracked.

She blinked, shaken, and when she looked back -

I was already moving away.

Not because I wanted to.

But because if I stayed -

if I let myself touch the fire sparking between us -

I wasn't sure I would be able to stop.

And tonight was not the night to lose control.

Not yet.

Later, standing in the shadows of the terrace, I lit a cigarette with steady fingers.

The smoke curled upward, soft and silver, vanishing into the night sky.

Inside, the benefit raged on. Deals were made. Futures were bought and sold.

But all I could think of was her.

Sofia D'Angelo.

The girl with the sad, silent eyes.

The girl fate had thrown in front of me like a challenge.

And I never could resist a challenge.

Especially not one as beautiful - and breakable - as her.