Chapter 6
Sofia had inherited something.
Not money.
Influence.
My mother’s trust.
Before Lucia died, she had written one private letter naming Sofia as the person she hoped would eventually oversee Montoro family relief work.
Not an official title.
A wish.
My mother had met Sofia only twice before becoming ill.
Apparently that was enough.
Why Sofia?
Because she listened.
My mother wrote:
Delia loves the family, but she confuses being needed with being obeyed.
I stared at the sentence.
Again.
Dead parents leaving painfully accurate observations.
Lucia continued:
Sofia understands care without ownership.
If Raffaele marries her, protect that.
My mother died before our wedding.
Delia found the letter first.
There.
The real trigger.
She saw Sofia not merely as an outsider wife.
As replacement.
Not as sister.
As emotional successor.
The woman her mother believed should oversee the family work Delia had handled for years.
That must have felt like erasure.
So she set out to prove Sofia unworthy.
Make her look weak.
Incompetent.
Disrespectful.
Too fragile to manage family responsibility.
Punish her until she either submitted to Delia’s authority or broke publicly.
Then Delia could say:
See? Lucia was wrong.
Marcus admitted he knew.
“You let her do this because she was hurt?”
He shook his head.
“I thought she’d stop.”
Of course.
Everybody thinks cruelty comes with a natural braking system.
It does not.
“What did you do?”
“I covered for her.”
There.
He reassigned kitchen staff so Sofia would be alone.
Scheduled me away during certain family weekends.
Told bodyguards Delia had household authority.
Not architect.
Facilitator.
Still guilty.
I removed him from every Montoro role.
He looked shocked.
“You’re removing me over domestic conflict?”
I almost laughed.
“You manipulated security and staff access so my wife could be isolated.”
His face changed.
Words matter.
Domestic conflict sounded small.
Operational facilitation sounded like what he actually did.
Then Delia finally spoke.
“She took Mom from me before she even knew her.”
Sofia looked at her.
“No.”
Her voice was quiet.
May you like
“Your mother made a choice.”
That was what Delia had never been able to accept.
