Page 64 of The Seventh Circle
"Sophia—"
"No." She raised a hand. "I don't need details. In fact, I prefer not to have them. But I want you to understand something: I don't wish to chain myself to a man whose heart lives elsewhere."
I stared at her, this woman I'd underestimated so thoroughly. "What exactly do you know?"
"I know Paolo cornered me to suggest you have 'unnatural attachments.' I know your cousin watches you like a predator."Her voice softened. "I know a trapped man when I see one, Lorenzo. I've spent my life surrounded by women who married men who didn't love them. I've watched their souls wither year by year."
"You surprise me," I admitted.
"Good. Perhaps we might have been friends in another life." She glanced back toward the house, then lowered her voice further. "Listen carefully. There are always choices, even when it seems all doors have closed. Sometimes duty becomes its own prison."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that freedom takes many forms, and the bravest choice isn't always the most obvious one." Her eyes held mine. "My father has a shipping office in Genoa. The manager there, Signor Belmonte, is a kind man who owes my father nothing but handles his accounts regardless. If someone were to arrive with the right introduction, he might assist them."
My heart pounded. "Why would you help me?"
"Because I want my own freedom too, Lorenzo." A sad smile crossed her lips. "An unwilling husband is as much my prison as an unwanted wife is yours."
"If I disappear, the alliance between our families—"
"Will continue without us. My younger sister Lucia is sixteen and much more biddable than I. My father will adjust his plans accordingly." She withdrew a folded paper from her sleeve. "This is a letter of introduction to Signor Belmonte. Do with it what you will."
I took the paper, speechless with gratitude and confusion.
"Whatever you choose, decide quickly," she added. "Three days is not much time, and my father plans to announce the wedding date at the celebration."
"Sophia, I don't know how to thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." She stepped back. "You still need to choose freedom over duty, and that's the hardest choice of all. Few men in your position have the courage for it."
"And what about you? What freedom do you seek?"
Her smile turned mysterious. "Perhaps a lengthy stay with my aunt in Florence, pursuing my interest in art. Perhaps something else entirely." She straightened her shawl. "We should return before we're missed."
As we walked back toward the house, I saw her differently—not as the burden my father had chosen for me, but as an ally I never expected.
"Whatever happens," I said quietly, "I hope you find what you're looking for."
"As do I, Lorenzo. For both of us."
In my room that night, I examined Sophia's letter. The introduction was genuine, requesting Signor Belmonte's assistance for "my dear friend" with arrangements for sea passage. No names were mentioned, allowing me to present it for myself or another. A significant risk for her to take.
I hid the letter in my copy of Dante, then paced my room, mind racing. Genoa made more sense than Milano—a port city with ships departing daily for France, Spain, even America. If we could reach it undetected...
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. Uncle Federico entered without waiting for response, closing the door silently behind him.
"Nephew," he said, eyes taking in my disheveled appearance. "Your father sent me to ensure you're preparing your speech for the celebration."
I forced a smile. "Of course. Just gathering my thoughts."
Federico watched me with the careful attention he usuallyreserved for business associates. "Three generations of Benedettos have married to strengthen the family, Lorenzo. Your grandmother, your father, and now you."
"I'm aware of my obligations."
"Are you?" He moved to the window, gazing out at the night. "Your father married your mother to secure the eastern territories. A practical arrangement that became something more. He doesn't speak of it, but her death nearly destroyed him."
I remained silent, uncertain where this unprecedented conversation was heading.
