Page 18 of Bound to the Enforcer

"He's a sociopath, and if you spend your days trying to figure him out, you will never come to a conclusion. Some people are just inherently bad, and he is one of them," Alessio replies. "He's dangerous. He has a thirst for power, and he will stop at nothing to obtain it. And he's counting on you being too inexperienced to stop him. If killing him is what you want, then I will deliver that for you."

I lift my chin. "Then he's underestimating me."

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of Alessio's mouth. "And that is exactly what we want."

The moment stretches, and for the first time since this nightmare began, I feel a touch of something I haven't felt in days: resolve.

In the early hours of the morning, I sit at my desk with a pen in hand. I can't risk a digital message. I am not sure if Alessio has bugged my phone or not, so snail mail will have to do for now. The lamp on my desk casts a warm glow over the paper in front of me. My hand shakes as I hold the pen. I know Alessio will never forgive me if he finds out.

I hear him in my head, sharp and angry."You don't trust me. After everything, you still don't trust me."

But this isn't about trust. It's not personal—it can't be.

My father's warning echoes in my mind:"Trust no one, Sophia. Not completely. Not even those who swear loyalty."

I've thought about those words every day since he died. Maybe Alessio wouldn't betray me. Maybe he would. But I can't take that chance. Not with Domenico watching my every move, waiting for me to fail.

I press the pen to the paper. The words come slowly, heavy with meaning.To Signore Vittorio.

The name feels strange to write. My father trusted him and called him a close ally. That should be enough. He's someone who can help me, someone outside all this. Alessio wouldn't understand.

My hand freezes. Shame twists in my stomach. Alessio has protected me and stood by me even when I pushed him away. He's earned my trust. And yet, here I am, hiding things from him and going behind his back.

I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. This isn't about Alessio. This is about what's best for everyone I'm responsible for. Being a leader means making hard choices. I can't let guilt stop me now.

I finish the letter, and my words are short and to the point. I ask for advice and help, keeping the details vague but clear enough to show urgency. When I'm done, I fold the paper and slide it into an envelope.

I melt red wax onto the seal and press the family crest into it. It feels final, like I'm crossing a line. I stare at the crest for a moment, guilt clawing at me.

No one can know. Especially not Alessio.

I slip the envelope into my jacket and head down the quiet hallway. Thankfully, when Alessio is home, there is no need for 24/7 security outside my door. The polished floors gleam underthe soft lights, and every creak of the house makes my heart jump.

When I reach the delivery room, I push the door open slowly. Pietro is inside, sitting at a sleek desk. He's sorting through letters, neatly and carefully.

"Pietro," I whisper.

He looks up, surprised, then nods. "Miss Sophia. Do you need something sent?"

"Yes." I pull the envelope from my jacket and hand it to him. "This needs to go to Signore Vittorio. It's urgent."

He looks at the name but doesn't ask questions. That's why my father trusted him—he knows when to stay quiet.

"I'll take care of it," he says, slipping the letter into his bag.

"Pietro," I add, stopping him. "No one can know about this. Not Alessio. Not Domenico. No one."

He nods. "Understood."

I watch him leave through the private exit, disappearing into the night.

As I walk back to my room, the guilt sticks with me, heavy and sharp. But I hold my head high. This is what my father prepared me for—making the hard choices.

Even if it costs me everything.

I return to my room like a thief in the night. I wake up a few hours later, walk out of my room, and head down to the breakfast table, where I see Matteo and Alessio sitting and discussing today's agenda.

As soon as my eyes find Alessio's face, the guilt settles back in, and I feel awful. I try to push down those feelings and remind myself that I am only doing what he told me to do—not trusting anyone.

---