Chapter 13 - THE COST OF PROTECTION
Sofia did not sleep much.
Lorenzo found her in the kitchen before sunrise.
Barefoot.
Coffee untouched.
He sat across from her.
She looked at him.
“Did you know Gregory got angry?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“I saw irritation.”
“Dad.”
Lorenzo thought.
Once.
Six months earlier.
A waiter spilled wine near Sofia.
Gregory snapped at him.
Then immediately apologized.
Lorenzo noticed.
He also noticed Gregory look toward him before apologizing.
That should have mattered.
It didn’t.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Sofia asked.
Lorenzo looked down.
“Because I thought you’d accuse me of looking for reasons not to like him.”
“I might have.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“So I chose peace.”
Sofia almost smiled sadly.
“Family habit.”
Lorenzo understood.
Another small silence.
Another truth delayed because speaking might create conflict.
Nothing like Cesare’s four minutes.
Yet built from the same instinct.
Avoid the difficult conversation.
Call it protection.
Sofia stared at her coffee.
“I keep thinking I should have known.”
“No.”
“I saw things.”
“That does not mean you agreed to what happened.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
She looked up.
Lorenzo continued.
Gregory’s control grew gradually.
Charm surrounded it.
Whenever Sofia resisted, he softened.
Whenever she questioned him, he made the issue about how much he loved her.
That was not stupidity on Sofia’s part.
That was Gregory managing what she could see.
Sofia nodded.
Then said:
“I need you to do something.”
“Anything.”
“Don’t turn this into a war.”
Lorenzo became still.
“Cesare—”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I mean Gregory.”
Lorenzo looked away.
“He attacked you.”
“Yes.”
“I saw him.”
“I know.”
“He swung at me.”
“I know.”
Sofia’s voice remained steady.
“You don’t need to forgive him.”
“I won’t.”
“I’m not asking.”
She leaned forward.
“I’m asking you not to make his punishment the thing that proves you love me.”
Lorenzo stared.
That sentence went directly to Alessandra’s warning.
Grief would make him harder if everyone let it.
He nodded slowly.
“What proves it?”
Sofia’s expression softened.
“Believe me when I tell you what I need.”
Lorenzo held her gaze.
“All right.”
Then Thomas entered the kitchen.
He looked exhausted.
“Gregory admitted something to me.”
Sofia’s stomach tightened.
“What now?”
Thomas sat.
Seven years ago, during their Philadelphia meeting, Gregory had not simply walked away.
He returned that night.
Thomas was gone.
But he had left a letter.
Gregory read it.
The letter explained that Cesare threatened him after the fire.
Explained Lorenzo did not order Alessandra’s death.
Explained Thomas believed the Caruso story was false.
Gregory destroyed it.
Sofia stared.
“He had more than the beginning.”
Thomas nodded.
“He had enough.”
“Why did he tell you now?”
“Because he finally stopped pretending he never read it.”
Lorenzo looked toward the window.
Gregory’s responsibility deepened again.
Not because hidden pain disappeared.
Because choice became clearer.
Thomas looked devastated.
“I spent years blaming myself for not saying enough.”
Sofia answered gently.
“You did fail him.”
Thomas looked up.
She continued.
“You stayed away.”
“Yes.”
“You let fear keep you gone.”
“Yes.”
“And he still chose what he did after learning you were alive.”
Thomas nodded.
Different failures.
Different owners.
That mattered.
Then Marco entered.
His expression was grave.
“Cesare called a family meeting.”
Lorenzo frowned.
“Without me?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“The old banquet hall.”
Sofia stood.
“What does he want?”
Marco looked toward Lorenzo.
“To remove you.”
Lorenzo almost laughed.
On what grounds?
Marco answered:
“He says you let your daughter destroy family authority over a private marriage problem.”
Sofia’s face hardened.
There it was.
The final shape of Cesare’s worldview.
Gregory attacking Sofia was private.
Lorenzo protecting her publicly was the embarrassment.
Lorenzo stood.
Sofia stopped him.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
Lorenzo caught himself.
Old reflex.
He corrected.
“Do you want to?”
May you like
“Yes.”
“Then come.”
