Chapter 3 - The Illusions of Sophia Reynolds
Across town, in a high-rise luxury flat in the Gold Coast paid for entirely through an offshore Moretti subsidy, Sophia Reynolds was sipping an iced mimosa.
She wore a silk robe, admiring her wrist in the morning light. The antique bracelet rested against her sun-kissed skin, its deep green emeralds catching the reflection of the Chicago skyline. She had already taken twenty different photos of it, deliberately angling her phone so the vintage Moretti crest engraved on the gold clasp was subtly visible.
The comments on her social media posts were climbing by the thousands.
*‘Are you and Adrian finally back together?’*
*‘The real queen of Chicago has returned.’*
*‘He never looked at Claire the way he looked at you last night.’*
Sophia smiled into her glass. For two years, she had watched from the sidelines as Claire Montgomery took the title that she believed belonged to her. Claire was quiet, poised, and utterly indifferent to the glitz and gore of the syndicate world. Sophia, on the other hand, craved the intoxicating rush of being a mafia boss's woman—the fear in people’s eyes, the VIP treatment at every restaurant, the unlimited black cards.
When Adrian’s phone call came, she answered on the first ring, her voice coated in honey.
"Good morning, handsome," she purred. "I still have your jacket here. Did you sleep well after our little adventure?"
"Sophia," Adrian’s voice sounded ragged, stripped of all the charm and authority he usually carried. "Stay where you are. I’m coming up."
"Oh? Couldn't stay away from me for more than a few hours?" She giggled, swirling her champagne. "I was thinking we could get brunch at the Drake. Everyone from the wedding is still talking about—"
"Shut up, Sophia," he snarled through the receiver. "Just stay in the damn apartment."
The line went dead.
Sophia blinked, her smile faltering. The harshness in his tone was unusual. Adrian had always treated her with a gentle, nostalgic reverence, treating her like porcelain because of their shared past.
Ten minutes later, the electronic lock on her penthouse door clicked, and the heavy door was practically kicked off its hinges.
Adrian stormed in. His hair was disheveled, the bruise blossoming on his cheekbone dark and angry, his tuxedo shirt torn at the collar. Behind him walked two massive men Sophia knew all too well: Dante and Matteo, the Moretti family’s senior enforcers. But they weren't standing behind Adrian as bodyguards. They were flanking him like wardens.
"Adrian?" Sophia gasped, dropping her glass onto the white carpet. The mimosa pooled in an ugly orange stain. "What happened to your face? Who did that to you?"
She took a step toward him, hands outstretched, but Adrian didn't move to comfort her. He stopped three feet away, his chest heaving, his dark eyes burning with pure fury.
"Take it off," he said.
Sophia froze. "What?"
"The bracelet, Sophia. Take it off right now."
Her stomach plunged into an icy void. "Adrian, you said I could borrow it for the weekend! You told me it was just sitting in a vault, that Claire didn't even appreciate vintage jewelry! You said—"
"I don't give a damn what I said!" Adrian roared, stepping forward so aggressively that Sophia scrambled backward until her legs hit the edge of the glass coffee table. "My father is in Chicago. The High Council is being mobilized. Take Eleanor’s bracelet off before I let Dante cut it off your wrist!"
Sophia’s breath caught in her throat. She looked past Adrian to Dante, the scarred enforcer who had served Don Leonardo for twenty years. Dante’s hand was resting casually on the hilt of the blade tucked into his leather shoulder rig. He wasn't looking at her like she was Adrian’s childhood friend. He was looking at her like she was a thief in possession of stolen property.
"You're... you're letting them threaten me?" Sophia's voice broke, tears of humiliation springing to her eyes. "After everything we’ve been to each other? You brought me to the wedding! You held my hand in front of everyone! You told me you regretted marrying her!"
"I was an idiot!" Adrian yelled, the reality of his ruin finally tearing through his facade. "I was an arrogant, nostalgic idiot! You played me, Sophia. You’ve been whispering in my ear for twelve months about how cold Claire is, how much better we were together, how much I deserved someone who adored me!"
He reached out, grabbed her wrist with unyielding force, and unlatched the heavy gold clasp. Sophia cried out as the metal scraped her skin, but Adrian showed no remorse.
He held the emerald bracelet in his palm, staring down at it. The stones seemed to mock him, glowing with an ancient, unforgiving radiance.
"Adrian, please," Sophia sobbed, clutching her bruised wrist. "Don't leave me like this. What are people going to say? You humiliated me!"
"You humiliated yourself the second you posted that caption," Dante's rough voice cut through the room. The old enforcer stepped forward, looking down at Sophia with cold disdain. "By order of Don Leonardo Moretti, you have until sunset to vacate this property. The lease has been terminated. Your vehicle has been repossessed. If your face is seen within city limits by tomorrow morning, you will be treated as an enemy of the syndicate."
Sophia gasped, turning wildly to Adrian. "Adrian! You can't let him do this to me! Tell him! Tell him this is your city!"
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Adrian didn't look back. He closed his fingers tightly around the emeralds, turned on his heel, and walked out the door, leaving her weeping on the stained carpet.
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