Sophia's POV
The rain hit me the moment I stepped outside the hospital, cold droplets that felt like tiny needles against my skin. I stood there for a moment, letting the water soak through my thin blouse, not caring that I was getting drenched. The physical discomfort was nothing compared to the emotional devastation churning inside me.
Twenty-four hours.
The words echoed in my head as I walked aimlessly down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the wet pavement. People rushed past me with umbrellas and newspapers held over their heads, everyone with somewhere important to be, everyone with normal problems that didn't involve choosing between their own life and their brother's.
I had no idea where I was going. Home felt impossible—too many memories of Isabella and Michael, too many reminders of the life I'd thought I was building. Michael's apartment was obviously out of the question. I couldn't face going back to my dorm room, couldn't bear the thought of sitting alone with my impossible decision.
So I just walked, letting the rain wash away the tears I was too exhausted to shed anymore.
"Excuse me, honey?"
The voice was gentle, concerned. I looked up to find a woman approaching me, one hand protectively cradling her pregnant belly while the other held a large black umbrella. She was beautiful in that effortless way some women had—golden hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, clear blue eyes full of genuine warmth, a face that belonged in a magazine but somehow seemed completely approachable.
"You're getting soaked," she said, moving closer to shelter me under her umbrella. "Are you okay?"
I opened my mouth to say I was fine, to give her the polite deflection I'd perfected over years of being the invisible Cohen daughter. Instead, what came out was a broken whisper: "No."
Her expression immediately softened. "Oh, sweetheart. Where are you headed? I can give you a ride."
I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak without breaking down completely.
"Well, I can't just leave you standing here in the rain," she said firmly. "How about we get you somewhere warm and dry? There's a little coffee shop just around the corner. My treat."
"I don't want to impose—"
"You're not imposing. I'm Emily, by the way." She smiled, the kind of smile that made you feel like you'd been friends for years. "And you look like you could use a friend right now."
The jazz café was exactly what I needed—dim, cozy, with soft music playing in the background and the rich aroma of coffee beans filling the air. Emily chose a small table near the back, away from the windows where the storm was still raging outside.
The lighting was so low I could barely make out the other patrons. In the corner, I caught a glimpse of a VIP section with plush leather seating, but the occupants were hidden in shadow.
"Two hot chocolates," Emily told the waitress, then turned back to me with that same warm smile. "You look like you need chocolate more than caffeine."
"Thank you," I managed, finally finding my voice.
"Yes, I did." Emily settled back in her chair, one hand unconsciously rubbing her rounded belly. "I believe in helping people when they need it. Call it pregnancy hormones, but seeing you standing there in the rain just broke my heart."
The waitress brought our drinks, and I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, letting the heat seep into my frozen fingers. Emily waited patiently, not pushing for details but somehow making it clear that she was there to listen if I wanted to talk.
"My father," I said finally, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "He wants me to marry someone. A monster."
Emily's eyebrows rose slightly. "A monster?"
I took a shaky sip of hot chocolate, the sweetness coating my throat. "Do you know who Vito Romano is?"
"I've heard the name," she said carefully.
"Then you know what kind of man he is." I leaned forward, my voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "He's dangerous, Emily. Really dangerous. Before his accident, he was already ruthless, but now... the stories people tell..."
I thought about the whispered conversations I'd overheard in hospital corridors, the way nurses' faces went pale when they mentioned gunshot victims from Romano territory. The businessman who'd tried to double-cross the family, found floating in the Hudson River. The politician who'd refused their campaign contributions, discovered in his car with three bullets to the head.
"They say the accident changed him. Made him paranoid, violent. He had three of his own men killed last month just for questioning his orders." My voice was getting stronger now, fed by fear and desperation. "Three men, Emily. Dead. Because they looked at him wrong."
I wrapped my hands tighter around the mug.
"And now my father wants me to marry him. This man who can't walk, can't see, but can still order people killed with a phone call. He thinks I should just waltz into that world, into that danger, because our family needs the money."
Emily listened without interruption.
"I've heard he's become completely unpredictable since the accident," I continued, "That his disability has only made him more cruel, more suspicious. They say he sees enemies everywhere, that he assumes betrayal even when there isn't any."
"What kind of life would that be?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Married to someone who might kill me if I look at him wrong? Living in constant fear, never knowing if today might be the day I accidentally do something that sets him off?"
I took another sip of hot chocolate, trying to calm my racing heart. "And that's assuming he doesn't discover that I'm not who he thinks I am. If he ever finds out about the deception..."
I caught myself before I could reveal too much about the twin substitution. Emily seemed genuinely kind, but I couldn't risk telling a complete stranger about my family's plan to fool the most dangerous man in New York.
"Beautiful once, maybe, before the accident. Powerful, charming, the kind of man every woman in New York wanted. But that was before. Now he's just... broken. Dangerous. And my father wants to feed me to him like some kind of sacrifice."
Emily reached across the table and covered my hand with hers, her touch warm and comforting. "That sounds terrifying," she said softly. "No one should be forced into a marriage, especially not to someone they're afraid of."
" Maybe he's not as much of a monster as people say," she suggested gently. "Sometimes rumors get exaggerated, especially about powerful people."
I shook my head vehemently. "You don't understand. I've heard these stories from reliable sources. Medical professionals who've treated his victims. He's not just dangerous—he's unhinged. He's killed people, Emily. Maybe not directly, maybe not with his own hands anymore, but he gives the orders. And everyone knows it."
Emily's grip on my hand tightened slightly. "Sometimes people do terrible things to protect the people they love," she said quietly.
"That doesn't make it right."
"No," she agreed. "It doesn't. But it might make it understandable."
"Are you saying I should marry him?" I asked.
"I'm saying maybe you should meet him before you decide he's a monster," Emily replied. "Sometimes the reality is different from the reputation."
Just then, a soft chuckle drifted from the VIP section behind us.
The sound was low, amused, with just a hint of something dark underneath. It seemed to come from the shadows where I'd glimpsed the leather seating, though I couldn't make out who had made it.