"Keys."
Sofia stopped mid-step.
Giulia stood by the console table near the entrance, a small leather key holder in her hand. Not ceremonial. Not dramatic. Casual enough to be dangerous.
"Those aren't mine," Sofia said.
"They are now."
Alessio's voice came from behind her. Close. Unannounced.
"For where?" Sofia asked, still not taking them.
"The east wing," he said. "The inner courtyard. The study corridor."
She finally turned. "You don't give people keys."
"I don't give people illusions," Alessio replied. "This is access."
Giulia placed the keys in Sofia's palm anyway. Cool metal. Heavier than expected.
Sofia curled her fingers around them. "What's the catch?"
"You don't ask where I'm going," Alessio said. "You don't repeat what you hear."
"And if I do?"
"Then this ends."
She looked between them. "You're serious."
"Yes."
"Why now?" she asked.
Alessio didn't answer directly. He gestured toward the hall. "Walk with me."
They moved side by side, unguarded. No escort. No distance. That alone felt wrong.
"You saw Milan," he said. "You handled it."
"I embarrassed them."
"You exposed them," Alessio corrected. "Different outcome."
They reached a door Sofia hadn't been allowed near before. Alessio unlocked it, stepped aside, and let her enter first.
Inside: a long table, scattered documents, maps folded and refolded. Phones charging. Coffee gone cold.
"This is where decisions happen," Sofia said.
"Yes."
"And you're letting me in because…?"
"Because they already assume you're here," Alessio replied. "And because I want to know what you notice."
She glanced at him. "You're testing me."
"I test everyone."
Sofia walked to the table, picked up a document without reading it. "If I pass?"
"Then you stay."
"And if I don't?"
"Then you never see this room again."
She set the paper down. "You're not afraid I'll use this."
"I'm counting on it," Alessio said. "Just not against me."
A phone buzzed. Not his. Not Giulia's.
Sofia's.
She frowned, pulling it from her pocket. Unknown number.
Alessio watched her, expression unreadable. "Answer it."
"That wasn't part of the deal."
"It is now."
She accepted the call. "Yes?"
A man's voice, amused. Familiar from Milan.
"You're moving up quickly."
Sofia's eyes flicked to Alessio. He didn't move.
"You shouldn't have this number," she said.
"We shouldn't have lost track of you," the man replied. "But here we are."
"What do you want?"
"To see how far your leash reaches."
Sofia smiled faintly. "Then you're calling the wrong end of it."
She ended the call and looked at Alessio.
"They're watching," she said.
"Yes."
"And you still gave me keys."
"Yes."
Silence stretched not tense, but deliberate.
"You're either very confident," Sofia said slowly, "or you want to see who bites."
Alessio met her gaze. "Both."
Another phone buzzed.
This time, Alessio's.
He read the message once, then locked the screen.
"What?" Sofia asked.
"Someone just noticed you weren't in your room," he said.
"And?"
"And they don't like it."
Sofia tightened her grip on the keys. "Neither do I."
Alessio watched her for a long moment then nodded once.
"Good," he said. "You're learning.
Sofia stopped just inside the corridor.
"Don't move," Alessio said, already turning back toward the study.
She ignored him.
"No," she said. "You don't get to do that."
He halted. Slowly. "Do what."
Say nothing. Assume compliance.
She held up the keys. They chimed softly in the quiet hall. "You give me access, tell me people are watching, then expect me not to ask how?"
"This isn't—"
"Your house," Sofia cut in. "I know. You've made that very clear. So explain how anyone notices I'm not in my room unless someone is paying attention."
Alessio studied her for a long moment. Then he exhaled through his nose, sharp but controlled.
"Come here."
He opened a door she hadn't noticed before small, utilitarian. Inside: shelves of files, a wall calendar marked in pencil, a single chair.
"This isn't a secret room," he said. "It's an accounting room."
"That doesn't help."
"It will."
He pulled a folder from the shelf and handed it to her. Names. Schedules. Rotations.
"Staff shifts," Alessio said. "Who works where. Who reports to whom. Who used to belong to other families."
Sofia flipped through it, slower now. "You keep records on your own people."
"I keep records on patterns."
She looked up. "So when I stop being escorted—"
"It's noticed," he said.
"When I enter rooms I wasn't allowed in—"
"It's noticed."
"When I sit beside you—"
Alessio didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
Sofia closed the folder. "So they don't need cameras."
"No."
"They just need mouths."
"Yes."
"And you let that happen."
"I allow controlled leakage," Alessio corrected. "There's a difference."
Her jaw tightened. "So I'm a message."
"You're a signal," he said again, more evenly this time. "And signals don't whisper."
She leaned back against the table. "Who exactly is listening."
Alessio didn't deflect this time.
"Milan has people everywhere," he said. "Drivers. Temporary staff. Consultants who pass through once a year and remember everything."
"And my father?"
"Ricci doesn't need new eyes," Alessio replied. "He has old ones."
That landed.
"You're not sealed away here, Sofia," he continued. "You're in circulation. That's the reality you stepped into the moment you spoke at that meeting."
She was quiet for a beat. Then: "So when you gave me keys—"
"I made it official," Alessio said. "Before someone else did."
Sofia laughed once, breathless. "You could've told me."
"You wouldn't have believed me."
She didn't argue.
"Do you regret it?" he asked.
"Regret what."
"Stepping forward."
She met his gaze. "No. But don't pretend this was protection."
"It wasn't," Alessio said. "It was positioning."
"And if someone uses that position against me?"
His voice dropped. "Then they answer to me."
A pause. Heavy. Real.
"Next time," Sofia said slowly, "you explain first."
Alessio nodded once. "Next time, you ask."
They stood there, the air between them changed—not softer, but clearer.
Outside, a voice called Alessio's name. Business again. Always.
He stepped past her, then stopped.
"You wanted to know how they watch," he said quietly. "Now you know."
"Yes," Sofia replied.
"And you're still holding the keys."
She looked down at her hand. Then back at him.
"Yes," she said again.
He left.
Sofia stayed where she was, alone in a room she hadn't been allowed in yesterday, holding proof that visibility was its own kind of captivity.