Page 4 of The Underboss's Secret Twins
But even as I watch the floor numbers climb, the knots in my chest don’t loosen.
I remind myself of the stakes. This meeting is everything. If NSN agrees to back me, my story won’t just make ripples, it’ll be a tidal wave. The Lombardis won’t be able to bury this, no matter how deep their pockets go.
The elevator dings, and the doors glide open. I step out, squaring my shoulders and steeling my resolve.
This meeting is my chance to take this investigation to the next level. NSN’s reach is unparalleled, their platform a megaphone that could amplify my findings to an audience far beyond the readership of the Times.
If I can get them on board, the Lombardis won’t just have to worry about whispers—they’ll have to face a reckoning.
The conference room on the fourteenth floor is all glass and chrome, the table long enough to seat twenty. The threeexecutives waiting for me are polished, their smiles practiced and their suits immaculate.
"Miss De Luca," one of them says, extending a hand. "We’ve heard a lot about you."
"Good things, I hope." I force a smile as I shake his hand and take a seat.
The first half of the meeting goes as expected. I lay out my findings, walking them through the evidence step by step.
Their eyes widen at the testimonies, their brows furrow at the financial records, and I can see the wheels turning as I describe the corruption and violence that the Lombardis have built their empire on.
"This is incredible work," one of the executives says, his voice tinged with awe. "If this is true—and I don’t doubt that it is—this story could change everything."
But then, his phone buzzes. He answers it with a curt, "Excuse me," stepping out of the room. When he returns, everything changes.
The air grows colder, the smiles tighter. The questions become more pointed, their enthusiasm replaced by caution.
"What kind of legal risks are we looking at here?" one asks.
"And what about the safety of our staff?" adds another, her tone clipped.
I push back, passionately defending the importance of the story, but it’s clear that the tide has turned.
"Look," the first executive finally says, his voice heavy with something unspoken. "We’ve been advised to steer clear of anything involving the Lombardis. Liability concerns. You understand."
Advised. The word hangs in the air, and I know exactly what it means.
The meeting ends with polite handshakes and vague promises to "revisit this in the future". I walk out of the building feeling like the walls are closing in around me.
As I step onto the street, my phone rings. The nameDetective Enrico Marinoflashes on the screen.
"Marino?" I answer, my voice tight.
"Sofia." His voice is urgent. "We need to talk."
"What is it?"
"I’m hearing things," he says, each word like a stone dropping into my stomach. "The Lombardis—they’ve put a hit out on you."
I stop dead in my tracks, the noise of the city fading into a dull roar.
"You need to lay low." Marino’s voice is hoarse with fear. "They’re not just threatening you anymore, Sofia. They’re planning to act. You need to disappear. Now."
The line goes dead.
2
SOFIA
Five Years Ago
