Page 38 of The One
“Speaking of him here… saying his name isn’t a good idea.”
Now I’m even more curious.
“You can tell me. I won’t tell anybody we talked.”
A small smile spreads across her face, but it disappears quickly, and she turns serious again. She lets out another long sigh.
“Molinaro. I am Sofia Molinaro.”
Her voice is stronger now, calmer too, as if saying her name, even in the enemy’s territory, is giving her strength.
Sofia Molinaro.
I gasp, taking an involuntary step back and crashing into the small table behind me. The dishes rattle, and I instinctively shoot out my hand, just in time to catch the bottle of water before it tips over.
Suddenly it’s clear why Giulia called her the devil’s spawn.
She comes from the family that was the De Marcos’ greatest enemy. A family that no longer exists. Except for her.
“You are the one who lured Ella away so your father could kidnap her,” I say, unable to fully mask the accusation in my voice.
She wrings her hands again, letting her head fall back and staring at the ceiling. Her eyes are glistening with tears.
“That’s me,” she sounds defeated once more. “Like I told you, it was on my father’s orders. You don’t defy him. Ever.”
I nod. Yeah, I understand.
“We thought you were dead,” I say, still reeling from the shock of her revelation.
“We?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.
I shake my head. I’ve already said too much. If anyone finds out I’ve spoken to the enemy or shared even a scrap of information, I’d probably end up in a cell myself. I glance nervously at the camera in the corner, its red light flashing tauntingly.
Please, God, don’t let anyone be watching the live feed, I silently pray.
“Who is we?” Sofia asks again.
Part of me wants to tell her, if only to see if she cared at all about Ella’s fate.
What would have happened to her if they had succeeded? Would they have killed Ella?
She confided in me a few days after the failed kidnapping attempt. Kind soul that she is, she was distraught and wracked with guilt, believing she had the deaths of people on her conscience, Sofia being one of them. At least that’s what Signor De Marco had her and the rest of us believe.
“I have to go. They’ll be wondering what’s taking me so long.”
“If everyone thinks I’m dead, that explains why Father hasn’t come for me.”
“Your father?” I repeat in dismay, my grip faltering as I accidentally tip the tray, nearly sending the dishes crashing to the floor.
Oh my god, she doesn’t know that he’s dead.
My thoughts must be plain as day, because Sofia has gone rigid, her eyes widening.
“What is it?” she asks. There’s a slight tremor in her voice. “What about my father?”
I shake my head. I can’t be the one telling her that her entire family is gone.
Turning abruptly, I make my escape toward the door, my steps faster than I intended. “I really have to go.”
