Page 50 of Luca
Both families are already seated when we arrive. Luca's father at the head of the table, looking like a Roman emperor in an expensive suit. Luca’s stepmother beside him, dripping diamonds and the kind of satisfaction that comes from orchestrating successful social events. My father across from them, chest puffed out with pride at this lucrative alliance.
And me, walking into the middle of it all, wearing Sofia's face and hoping no one looks too closely.
"Sofia, darling," Luca's stepmother rises to air-kiss my cheeks. "You look radiant. Marriage suits you."
"Thank you, Elena. You’re stunning as always."
I settle into my chair beside Luca. The conversation flows around topics I can navigate safely, the weather and Milan. I let others carry the discussion while I focus on being Sofia. Soft voice, polite agreement with whatever the men decide to order for us.
But I notice my father watching me. Too closely for comfort.
"Sofia dear, you seem much happier and confident since the wedding," he says during a lull in conversation. "Marriage is treating you well."
“It is,” I reply sweetly.
The conversation moves on, but he’s still studying me closely. Every gesture I make, every word I speak, he's comparing to memories of Sofia. And with each passing minute, I see the recognition growing in his eyes.
Dinner stretches endlessly. Course after course of food I can barely taste and conversation that feels like walking through a minefield. I contribute when spoken to, and try to play the perfect Romano wife.
But then my father figures it out.
"Excuse me," he says, standing abruptly. "I need some air. Sofia, would you walk with me? I'd like to speak with you privately."
"Of course, Papa."
My voice comes out steadier than I feel, but inside I'm screaming. This is it. This is where everything falls apart.
We excuse ourselves from the table and step out onto the restaurant's terrace. It's a beautiful night, warm and clear.
For a moment, we stand in silence. Then my father turns to me, and his expression is pure fury.
"What have you done?" His voice is barely controlled rage mixed with terror. "Where is Sofia?"
I don't try to deny it. There's no point now. "She's safe."
"Safe?" He grabs my arm, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "Do you have any idea what you've put us all at risk for? What have you done, Gabriella?"
Hearing my real name spoken aloud after weeks of being Sofia is shocking. I pull my arm free and take a step back.
"I saved her," I say quietly. "She was terrified, Papa. She couldn't go through with it."
"You took her place? You let me walk my daughter down the aisle to marry a man who could kill us all when he finds out?" His voice is rising, desperation making him reckless. "How could you be so selfish? So stupid?"
"Selfish?" The word comes out sharper than I intended. "I sacrificed my freedom to save hers. To keep her healthy and alive. How is that selfish?"
"Because you've doomed us all! The Romano family doesn't forgive broken agreements. When they find out, I don’t know what they’re going to do but it won’t be good."
"They won't find out. Not if you don't tell them."
He stares at me like I've lost my mind. "You think you can keep this up forever? You think you can pretend to be Sofia for the rest of your life?"
"I think I can keep it up long enough for everyone to be safe."
"And Sofia? Where is she while you're playing house with her husband?"
"I don't know. That was the point. She needed to disappear completely."
"She could be dead. She could be hurt or lost."
