Episode 2

Sophia

I slide across the broad white leather seat of the limousine, from window to window. I don't want to miss a thing!

For the past twenty minutes the houses have been growing larger and more beautiful. Now each one occupies a whole block. I'm on the verge of squealing like a little girl who can't contain her emotions.

The house where I lived with my dad was beautiful, yet modest. Every weekend when dad was off work, we'd drive his car through the wealthiest neighborhoods of the city, marveling at the magnificent and massive homes. He always told me that one day he'd build me a house fit for a princess, but sadly, he died on my twelfth birthday.

I still miss him, and I believe I always will.

My mom passed away when I was born, but dad always talked about her, showing me photos and videos, so in a way, she was always there. Plus, dad put a lot of effort into filling the roles of both mother and father, and I think he excelled at it. I couldn't have asked for a better dad.

It's just unfortunate that a job he did for his Boss took his life, but in the Camorra, dying while following your Boss' orders is celebrated and admired, and used as an example for others.

My dad is and will always be a hero to me and to the Camorra.

I can't help but squeal with delight when the limousine turns and begins to drive up a cobblestone driveway flanked by enormous evergreen trees. In the distance, a massive structure looms.

No. It's not a house, it's a freaking mansion!

I start bouncing in my seat at the thought of living here for the next few months, if everything goes well. But I know it will. I've never taken care of a baby before, but I've been looking after myself since my dad died and I did well—I mean, at least I'm alive. Taking care of a baby should be much easier, right?

Besides, it's a baby; I won't even need to worry about it sneaking out at night.

My thoughts are interrupted when I can see the mansion in greater detail. It features Mediterranean architecture, and it's finished in bone white and gray colors. It has two stories and massive windows everywhere, which I assume must be bulletproof since this is the house of the new Camorra Boss, and it's always better to be safe, especially if his child is here.

It's a shame that the baby's mother died, according to the scant information given to me by my aunt, who was eager to get rid of me. But I hope he's as lucky as I was, and that his dad can fill that role or he marries a kind woman who will love the new heir even if it isn't her own blood.

"Shit, is that a helipad?" I ask, looking towards the rear of the property.

"It is, Miss Sophia," replies the driver.

My face flushes as I realize he has witnessed all my squeals and cries of admiration.

"I'm sorry," I whisper so softly that I can barely hear myself.

"No need to apologize, Miss Sophia. It's a beautiful home."

"It's the most beautiful home I've ever seen!" I exclaim, hugging myself with a huge smile on my face that I don't think will fade easily.

The driver steps out of the limousine, opens my door, and helps me down. Once on the ground, I spin three hundred and sixty degrees and squeal again.

I still can't believe I'm going to live here!

It's a dream come true.

I sit on the beautiful flat stones that cover the entranceway. I run my hand over them and smile as they feel smooth and cool against my skin.

"The place has a helipad, three swimming pools, one of them heated. There's also a tennis court and a vast garden that was the creation of the best landscape architect in New York."

"I'll take it," I blurt out, then laugh at the thought of ever buying a house like this.

The driver laughs. "You deserve that and more, Miss Sophia," he says looking at me fondly. "I worked with your father; he always talked about his little Sophia."

"Oh, it's a pleasure," I say, getting up and greeting him with my hand.

"The pleasure is mine. My name is Matteo Rossi."

"I'm Sophia Palermo, although I imagine you already know that."

He nods before speaking: "The woman who runs this house and will be in charge of you is named Anna Romano; she's kind, but strict."

"I understand."

"I hope you like it here."

I smile. "I think so, everything has to go well."

He walks me to the door and once it opens, he returns to the limousine.

A fifty-year-old woman with hair as black as mine and dark eyes scrutinizes me.

"Are you Sophia Palermo?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen, but I assure you I'll take good care of the baby."

"We shall see," she returns still not letting me pass. "I knew your father; one of the best soldiers the Camorra ever had."

I smile as I do every time someone mentions my dad.

"Thank you."

"I hope you're a hard worker and as loyal as your father was."

"I hope so too."

"Follow me," she orders, and I start to follow her, my mouth agape as I see the interior of the house, which is much more beautiful than the exterior—and I thought that was impossible. "You stayed with your uncle Narciso and his wife, no?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I don't like them."

I smile. "Then that makes two of us."

She looks at me and can't help but respond to my smile.

"Smart girl."

We start ascending a grand staircase leading to the second floor, and my eyes are glued to the beautiful works of art hanging on the walls.

"Is that a Picasso?"

"Do you like art?"

"I'm not an aficionado, but I'd recognize a Picasso anywhere."

"It's a Picasso."

"A replica or original?"

"What do you think?"