Sophia's POV
Oh my God.
The question hung in the air like a sword ready to drop, and I felt my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I was sure everyone in the room could hear it. Maria's expectant smile, Vito's encouraging gaze, the weight of their combined attention—it all pressed down on me like a physical force.
She knows something. She has to know something.
The thought struck me with the force of lightning, sending cold dread racing through my veins. Why else would Maria Castellano, of all people, suggest that I—someone she barely knew—take on such a public, high-profile role? An art auction at one of New York's most prestigious charity events, in front of the city's elite, where every word I spoke would be scrutinized and dissected?
This isn't a coincidence. This is a test.
