Chapter 8 - The Woman at the Head of the Table
Sophia returned to the Romano estate six weeks later.
She arrived through the front entrance.
That mattered.
Mrs. Gable cried.
Paulie hugged her hard enough to lift her off the floor.
Marco presented her with a cinnamon shaker tied with a red ribbon.
Nico, walking with a cane, kissed her cheek.
Then Dante descended the staircase.
Sophia's breath caught.
He stopped several feet away.
“Welcome home.”
Not welcome back to work.
Not welcome back to your room.
Home.
Dinner was waiting.
Sophia expected her old seat near the kitchen door.
It was gone.
Instead, Dante pulled out the chair beside his own.
Every captain at the table noticed.
So did Sophia.
“Dante.”
“Yes?”
“You're making a statement.”
“I know.”
“Are you sure?”
Dante looked around the table.
“Yes.”
She sat.
Nobody objected.
Halfway through dinner, one captain asked Sophia for wine.
Silence descended.
Sophia looked at him.
The captain immediately realized what he'd done.
“I—sorry. Habit.”
Sophia handed him the bottle anyway.
“Pour your own.”
Nico nearly choked laughing.
Even Dante smiled.
But peace remained fragile.
Isabella's trial was approaching.
Her attorneys offered a deal.
She would testify against the remaining Conti leadership in exchange for reduced charges.
The prosecutor wanted Dante's cooperation.
Sophia expected him to refuse.
Instead, he agreed.
“Why?” she asked later.
“Because prison is better than funerals.”
That answer told her how much he had changed.
But Isabella demanded one condition.
She wanted to speak to Sophia.
Alone.
Dante hated it.
Sophia accepted.
They met inside a secured federal interview room.
Isabella entered wearing a plain detention uniform.
No diamonds.
No silk.
No audience.
For the first time, Sophia saw not a mafia princess but a frightened woman who had spent her life confusing cruelty with power.
“You won,” Isabella said.
Sophia sat across from her.
“This wasn't a competition.”
“It always is.”
“That's why you're sitting there.”
Isabella's eyes hardened.
“You think Dante changed because you're special?”
“No.”
Sophia leaned forward.
“I think Dante changed because Dante decided to change.”
That answer unsettled Isabella more than any insult could have.
She looked down.
“My father arranged our engagement when I was twenty-two.”
Sophia said nothing.
“I thought if Dante chose someone like you, it meant everything I'd sacrificed meant nothing.”
“So you tried to destroy him?”
“I wanted him to need my family again.”
Sophia studied her.
“And my room?”
Isabella gave a humorless smile.
“I saw the way he looked at you.”
Sophia waited.
“I wanted to know whether he'd choose me if I forced him to do it publicly.”
Sophia's chest tightened.
“And he did.”
“Yes.”
Isabella looked up.
“For one night.”
Sophia understood then.
The bedroom had never been the real battlefield.
It had been a test.
Dante had failed it.
But he had spent months becoming someone who wouldn't fail it again.
When Sophia returned home, she found him waiting in the foyer.
“How bad?”
“Less dramatic than expected.”
“Did she threaten you?”
“No.”
“Insult you?”
“Only spiritually.”
Dante frowned.
Sophia laughed.
Then she noticed luggage beside the staircase.
Her luggage.
The same two battered suitcases.
“What is that?”
“Mrs. Gable kept them after you returned.”
“Why are they downstairs?”
Dante picked up the handles.
“Because we're leaving.”
“Where?”
“Come with me.”
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at a renovated brick building in Tarrytown.
A brass sign stood outside.
BENNETT HOUSE.
Sophia stared.
“What did you do?”
“Before you become angry, I don't own it.”
She turned.
“What?”
“You do.”
Her face changed.
“Dante—”
“Not as a gift.”
He handed her a folder.
Inside was a business proposal.
Investment terms.
Equity structure.
Repayment schedule.
Sophia read it twice.
“You're offering me financing.”
“Yes.”
“For a hotel.”
“Yes.”
“You remembered.”
“I remember everything you say.”
She looked through the windows.
The building contained twelve guest rooms, a restaurant, gardens, and an apartment upstairs.
Sophia's eyes filled.
“I can't accept charity.”
“Good. The interest rate is offensive.”
She laughed through tears.
“You're impossible.”
“So I've been told.”
She walked through the lobby.
At the reception desk lay one object.
Her chipped pale-blue coffee mug.
Sophia touched it.
“Mrs. Gable found it?”
“No.”
Dante smiled.
“I found it in the greenhouse. You hid it there before leaving.”
Sophia looked at him.
“I thought I'd come back for it someday.”
Dante stepped closer.
“Did you?”
She slipped her arms around his neck.
“For the mug?”
He raised an eyebrow.
She kissed him.
“No.”
May you like
Outside, autumn rain began falling softly.
This time, when Sophia stood beside Dante in the rain, neither of them was leaving.
