Page 139 of Auctioned Innocence
“Absolutely, Miss Renaldi,” comes the immediate response, and I’m impressed again how completely Marco’s men have accepted her authority.
“Got it,” she breathes after several tense minutes, locking James out of the critical systems. “Self-destruct disabled. But he still has access to communications and surveillance until my team reaches him.”
Through the monitors, we see James’s face twist with fury as his access gets cut off piece by piece, his careful sabotage unraveled by someone who’s proven far more capable than he anticipated.
Marco watches his sister outmaneuver a man he trusted for five years, something fundamental shifting in his expression. It’s not just pride I see there, or relief, or even admiration. It’s recognition. The acknowledgment that Sofia isn’t just his little sister anymore—she’s his equal. Maybe more than his equal.
“Jesus Christ,” he says quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “Look at you.”
Sofia glances up from her screens, eyebrow raised in question.
“Just…look at you.” Marco gestures at the command center, at the displays showing their complete victory, and at the evidence of Lorenzo’s network displayed across multiple monitors. “You didn’t just survive this. You orchestrated it. You turned their attack into our victory.”
“I had good teachers,” Sofia says simply, but there’s pride underneath the modesty.
“No.” Marco shakes his head, his good hand gripping his weapon while his injured arm hangs at his side. “This isn’t something that can be taught. This is who you are. Who you’ve always been, and I was too blind to see it.”
He looks at me, then back at his sister, something settling in his expression like a weight being lifted.
“You really love her,” he says quietly to me, but his tone has changed. There’s no challenge in it now, no protective anger. Just curiosity, and maybe the beginning of acceptance.
“More than anything,” I respond truthfully.
“And you?” he asks Sofia, not taking his eyes off her as she saves all the evidence she’s gathered while managing the final sweep of the building. “You’re sure about this? About him? About the life you’re choosing?”
She meets his eyes steadily while her hands continue their deadly work, never breaking rhythm in her coordination efforts. “He’s my choice. My future. My heart. And this…” She gestures at the displays, at the evidence of her capabilities, at the proof of what she’s become. “This is who I am. Who I’ve always been. The question is whether you can accept that.”
Marco is quiet for a long moment, watching his sister command a battlefield with the same natural authority he’s always possessed. When he speaks, his voice carries the weight of genuine understanding.
“I spent so many years trying to…” Marco stops, struggling for words. “I wanted to protect you from all this. From becoming like me.
He pauses again, wincing as he adjusts his wounded shoulder.
“But you were never—you didn’t need saving, did you?” His voice cracks. “You were meant to do the saving.”
Sofia’s hands are still on the keyboard, but her full attention is on her brother for the first time since the battle began.
“I’m sorry,” Marco continues, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see it sooner. I’m sorry I tried to keep you from becoming who you were meant to be. And I’m sorry I madeit harder for you to be with someone who clearly sees exactly what I was too blind to recognize.”
He turns to me, extending his good hand.
“Take care of her,” he says simply. “Not because she needs protection, but because she deserves someone who understands what she’s capable of. Someone who won’t try to clip her wings.”
I clasp his hand, feeling the weight of his acceptance, his blessing, his recognition of what Sofia and I have built together.
“Always,” I promise.
Sofia’s smile is brilliant, dangerous, and completely satisfied. “Now that we’ve got the family drama sorted out, can we please finish destroying Lorenzo’s empire?”
Before we can respond, all the monitors flash red. A new message appears—not through the speakers this time, but typed directly onto our screens with the desperate urgency of a man who’s lost everything.
Time to end this. One hour. Bring the girl or the Council learns every dirty secret your father buried.
“It’s a trap,” Marco says immediately, though his tone has changed. He’s not dismissing the possibility—he’s assessing it, treating Sofia as an equal in the decision.
“Of course it is.” Sofia’s smile turns smug as she saves all the evidence she’s gathered. “That’s exactly what we need.”
She outlines her plan quickly, efficiently, with the confidence of someone who’s just proven herself beyond any doubt. It’s insane. Brilliant. Possibly suicidal. And absolutely perfect.
