Page 30 of Fierce Hearts

Until he'd died. When I'd gotten the call, it was a mess of emotions. Pain and despair at losing my father, but also relief that perhaps I could break free.

Everything had changed after that, and I'd seized the moment to escape with Marco's help.

And now he was gone.

I took several deep breaths, trying to calm the panic rising in my chest. What were my options? Run? Fight? Comply?

Running meant leaving behind everything I'd built—my career, my friends, my home. And based on Ernesto's warning, it would put others in danger.

Fighting? Against the combined forces of the Savoca and Ference families? That wasn't just suicide—it was delusional. I was just one woman. Sure, I could probably try to ask the Donatis for help, we were close, but were we close enough for them to risk a war on my behalf?

Probably not, no matter how much I hoped.

Complying meant sacrificing my freedom, my future, myself. Becoming a pawn in a game I'd spent years trying to escape, becoming the punching bag of Juan Ference, or his next buried secret if I upset him.

My phone pinged, pulling me from my mind. I checked the message from Meredith.

Big line at Starbucks?

Right. I had somewhere I was meant to be. Someone who loved me for me.

I couldn't figure this out right now, nor did I want to. I didn't have many choices either.

I had to pull myself together, at least for now. I'd figure this out later.

CHAPTER8

SOFIA

Twenty minutes later, I pushed open the doors of the old Majestic Theater, forcing a smile onto my face as I spotted Meredith waiting in the lobby. A smile that felt far too fragile, but I'd spent the drive forcing myself to compartmentalize.

"I come bearing caffeine," I announced, holding up the now-lukewarm coffee cups.

Meredith turned, her face lighting up. "You're a lifesaver! I've been here since seven going over blueprints with the contractors."

I handed her the vanilla latte and took a sip of my own americano, grimacing at the temperature. "Sorry it's not hot anymore. There was a crazy line, and then so much traffic."

"No worries." She didn't seem to notice my discomfort as she gestured around the grand lobby. "Isn't it amazing? They've already started stripping away the old carpet, and look at those original tiles underneath!"

I followed her gaze to where workers had revealed a section of intricate mosaic flooring, the colors still vibrant despite decades of neglect.

"It's beautiful," I said, meaning it. The theater had been a landmark in our city for nearly a century before closing down. Seeing it come back to life was something special.

For the next hour, I let Meredith's enthusiasm wash over me as she showed me the restoration plans, letting my own horrific life drama take a back seat.

The grand staircase would be rebuilt exactly as it had been in the 1920s. The original chandelier had been found in storage and was being rewired. The stage would be modernized with state-of-the-art equipment while preserving its historic appearance.

"This section is off-limits right now," she said, pointing to a cordoned-off area. "They're reinforcing the ceiling before they start work there."

We headed to what had once been the theater manager's office, now serving as Meredith's command center. Blueprints and design boards covered every surface.

"So," she said, settling into a chair, "I need your opinion on the opening night. I'm thinking we should go classic—maybe 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' or 'The Importance of Being Earnest.' Something that honors the theater's history."

I nodded, trying to focus on her words instead of the dread still coiling in my stomach. "Both good choices. What about a musical? Something like 'Chicago' would fit the era of the theater."

"Ooh, I like that idea!" Meredith scribbled a note. "And for the grand opening gala, I was thinking?—"

A shout from the main theater interrupted her, followed by more yelling.

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