Chapter 3 - A Debt Sophie Never Asked For
Sophie did not open the door.
She stood perfectly still in the dark apartment, listening.
“Ms. Bennett?”
The voice remained calm.
That somehow made it worse.
Sophie reached for her phone.
Her thumb hovered over 911.
Then she remembered the business card.
Antonio Russo’s personal number.
She hated herself for even considering it.
The man knocked again.
“You don’t belong around those people.”
Sophie dialed Antonio.
He answered immediately.
“Sophie?”
“There’s someone outside my apartment.”
His tone changed.
“Lock the door.”
“It’s locked.”
“Do not open it.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“What did he say?”
She repeated the warning.
Antonio became silent.
Then:
“Move away from the windows.”
“Antonio, what is happening?”
“Do it.”
Sophie stepped into the hallway leading toward her bedroom.
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“I’m sending someone.”
“No.”
“Sophie.”
“I don’t want your men coming here.”
“You called me.”
That stopped her.
He was right.
“I called because I was scared.”
“I know.”
The voice outside disappeared.
Sophie listened.
Nothing.
“Antonio?”
“I’m here.”
“I think he left.”
“Stay inside.”
Twelve minutes later, headlights appeared outside.
Antonio arrived personally.
Sophie watched from behind the curtain as he stepped from a black SUV with one security man.
Only then did she unlock the door.
Antonio entered.
His eyes swept across the apartment.
Small sofa.
Secondhand table.
Nursing textbooks stacked beside the wall.
A framed photograph of Sophie and her grandmother.
He stopped at the photograph.
“That her?”
“My grandmother.”
Antonio nodded.
His security man checked the hallway.
“No one.”
Antonio looked at Sophie.
“Did you see him?”
“No.”
“Recognize the voice?”
“No.”
“Anything else?”
She shook her head.
Then anger replaced fear.
“This happened because of you.”
Antonio didn’t deny it.
“That’s possible.”
“I served your mother bread.”
“I know.”
“I helped her take medication.”
“I know.”
“And now strangers are coming to my apartment?”
Antonio’s expression hardened.
“That shouldn’t have happened.”
“But it did.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Sophie folded her arms.
“Then find out.”
Antonio stared at her.
Most people probably didn’t speak to him that way.
Sophie no longer cared.
“I will.”
He turned toward the door.
Then stopped.
“Pack a bag.”
“No.”
“Sophie—”
“I’m not moving into some mafia fortress.”
For the first time, Antonio looked almost offended.
“I wasn’t suggesting a mafia fortress.”
“What would you call it?”
“My mother’s guesthouse.”
“That is absolutely a mafia fortress.”
His security man looked away, clearly hiding amusement.
Antonio sighed.
“You cannot stay here tonight.”
“I can.”
“Someone knows where you live.”
“Apparently you did too.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I’m not threatening you.”
“You’re standing in my apartment at midnight telling me to pack.”
Antonio considered that.
“Fair point.”
Sophie blinked.
She hadn’t expected him to admit it.
He lowered his voice.
“I won’t force you anywhere.”
“Good.”
“But I would prefer knowing you’re safe.”
“Why?”
The question hung between them.
Antonio looked toward the photograph of Sophie’s grandmother.
Then back at her.
“Because my mother would never forgive me if something happened to you.”
Sophie waited.
“And?”
His expression became unreadable again.
“And neither would I.”
Something shifted.
Small.
Dangerous in a completely different way.
Sophie looked away.
“I’ll stay with my friend Rachel.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“I can drive myself.”
“You don’t own a car.”
Sophie frowned.
“How do you know that?”
Antonio almost smiled.
“Disturbing security.”
Despite everything, Sophie laughed.
Twenty minutes later, Antonio drove her personally.
The following morning, he called.
“We identified the man.”
Sophie sat up on Rachel’s couch.
“Who?”
“A private investigator.”
“Working for whom?”
“That’s what I’m finding out.”
“Antonio.”
“I’ll tell you when I know.”
“I’m already involved.”
Silence.
Then he said, “You’re right.”
Again, unexpected.
“He was hired to watch anyone spending unusual time around my mother.”
“Why?”
“My family has enemies.”
“Business enemies?”
A pause.
“Some.”
Sophie understood what he wasn’t saying.
“Should I be afraid of you?”
Antonio answered immediately.
“No.”
“Should I believe that?”
“That decision belongs to you.”
She appreciated that answer more than she wanted to.
That afternoon, Maria called.
“My son tells me you refused my money again.”
“Maria.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“So are you.”
“That is why I like you.”
Sophie smiled.
Maria became serious.
“I heard about last night.”
“I’m okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything.”
“No, but my world touched yours.”
Sophie thought about that sentence.
“My world touched yours.”
Maria continued.
“If you want us to leave you alone, say so.”
Sophie looked at her nursing application still open on the laptop.
“I don’t know what I want.”
“Then don’t decide today.”
Maria changed the subject.
“Have lunch with me tomorrow.”
“At Bellarosa?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“My house.”
Sophie laughed nervously.
“Your house?”
“I promise there are no dungeons.”
“That was oddly specific.”
Maria laughed.
The Russo residence was not what Sophie expected.
Large, yes.
Secure, definitely.
But warm.
Family photographs lined the hallway. Maria’s garden filled the back terrace with roses and basil.
Sophie spent three hours there.
Antonio arrived near the end.
He had removed his jacket and tie.
Without the formal armor, he looked less like the man Brooklyn whispered about.
Almost normal.
Almost.
Maria watched them both with suspicious amusement.
Later, Antonio walked Sophie toward the front door.
“Did you submit the application?”
Sophie stopped.
“How do you know about that?”
“My mother.”
“She talks too much.”
“Yes.”
“I haven’t submitted it.”
“Why?”
“Because tuition isn’t the only problem.”
“What else?”
“I need clinical hours. That means fewer work hours. Fewer work hours means rent becomes impossible.”
Antonio nodded.
“Then let my mother help.”
“No.”
“You refuse help professionally.”
“I’m talented.”
Antonio studied her.
Then he said, “What if it wasn’t charity?”
Sophie narrowed her eyes.
“What are you proposing?”
“My mother needs someone with medical training nearby several evenings each week.”
“I’m not licensed.”
“You wouldn’t be her nurse. Companion. Medication reminders. Meals. Appointments.”
Sophie understood.
“You’re inventing a job.”
“Yes.”
“For me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother needs help.”
“And?”
Antonio held her gaze.
“And you need time.”
Sophie said nothing.
“It would pay enough to replace one of your jobs,” he continued. “You return to school. My mother gets someone she trusts.”
“That sounds suspiciously convenient.”
“It is.”
“For whom?”
Antonio’s expression softened.
“All of us.”
Sophie went home.
She spent the entire night thinking.
At 6:13 the next morning, she clicked SUBMIT.
Three weeks later, the email arrived.
RE-ENROLLMENT APPROVED.
Sophie cried alone in her kitchen.
Then she called Maria.
Maria cried louder.
By evening, Sophie had officially accepted the companion position.
For the first time in years, the future looked possible.
But across Brooklyn, inside a private office Sophie had never seen, another man placed a photograph of her on a desk.
The photograph showed Sophie entering the Russo residence.
A second photograph showed Antonio walking beside her.
The man studying them smiled coldly.
“So that’s the weakness.”
And from that moment on, Sophie was no longer being watched because she had helped Maria.
May you like
She was being watched because someone believed Antonio Russo cared about her.
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