Under the Veil

Sofia DeLuca gripped the leather steering wheel of her car, her knuckles pale from the pressure. The streets of New York were as chaotic as she remembered, a whirlwind of horns, flashing lights, and the hum of a city that never paused to grieve. Her heart felt heavy as she turned onto the familiar cobblestone street leading to the DeLuca family estate. The towering iron gates loomed ahead, a stark reminder of the world she had tried so hard to escape.

She hadn't set foot in this house for nearly a decade, and she had vowed never to return. But her father's death had changed everything. Michael DeLuca, feared mafia don and the man who had both raised and suffocated her, was gone. The news had hit her like a bullet-sharp, sudden, and devastating.

The gates creaked open, revealing the sprawling mansion. Sofia's eyes scanned the property, noting the armed guards stationed at every corner. Their presence wasn't surprising; her father had always surrounded himself with layers of protection, but the heightened security hinted at unrest.

Parking the car, she stepped out, her heels clicking against the stone driveway. The chill of the January evening seeped through her coat, but it was the oppressive weight of the place that truly sent shivers down her spine. She hesitated before climbing the stone steps, her hand brushing the brass knocker on the heavy oak door.

The door swung open before she could use it. A tall man with dark, piercing eyes and a sharp jawline stood in the doorway. Luca Romano. Even after all these years, he was unmistakable. His presence was commanding, his tailored suit emphasizing the power he carried effortlessly.

"Sofia," he said, his voice low and even. "You're late."

Her brow arched, irritation flaring despite her grief. "I didn't realize I was on your schedule."

His lips twitched, almost forming a smirk, but his expression remained cold. "Your father's will is being read in twenty minutes. Don't keep everyone waiting."

Without another word, he stepped aside, allowing her to enter. The warmth of the interior hit her immediately, but it did little to ease the unease coiling in her chest. The grand foyer was just as she remembered-marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and an overwhelming sense of grandeur that felt more oppressive than welcoming.

Members of the DeLuca family were scattered throughout the house, their murmurs filling the air. She recognized many of them: uncles, cousins, and longtime associates of her father. Their eyes followed her as she walked past, whispers trailing in her wake.

"Michael's daughter," one voice said.

"Thought she'd never come back," another muttered.

Sofia ignored them, keeping her head high. She wasn't here for them.

The study door was open, and inside, the family lawyer sat behind a massive mahogany desk. Luca stood by the fireplace, his gaze fixed on her as she entered. Several other high-ranking members of the DeLuca organization were seated in leather chairs, their expressions a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

"Sofia," the lawyer greeted, gesturing for her to sit. "Thank you for coming. I know this is difficult."

She sank into the chair, her back rigid. "Let's get this over with."

The lawyer adjusted his glasses and opened a thick folder. "Michael DeLuca was a complex man, but he was meticulous about his affairs. His assets, properties, and businesses will be distributed according to his instructions. However, there is one matter of particular importance."

The room fell silent. Sofia's pulse quickened, though she kept her expression neutral.

"The leadership of the DeLuca family," the lawyer continued, "will pass to Sofia DeLuca."

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.