“Why were you so cold earlier?” he demanded. “Francesca works under me. Her safety falls under my responsibility. Her living situation is temporary until everything’s finalized. You understand why I’d help her, don’t you?”
A quiet, bitter laugh slipped out before I could stop it.
“Since when do you go this far for your staff?” I asked. “At the last family gathering, you left early, said you weren’t feeling well. I didn’t question it. Now you’re reorganizing your life for her?”
Soft sobbing filtered through the line.
Francesca spoke next, her voice trembling just enough to sound sincere.
“Lorenzo… maybe I should leave. I don’t want to come between you and Sofia.”
His reply was immediate, edged with authority.
“That’s not happening. Stay where you are.”
The way he said it—firm, protective—hit harder than I expected. He hadn’t spoken to me like that in years.
I drew in a slow breath, forcing my emotions back into their cage.
“You’re right,” I said evenly. “That was on me. I shouldn’t have asked. I’ve already left. Don’t bother coming back for me.”
I ended the call before he could respond.
And this time, I didn’t turn around.
Sofia’s POV