Chapter 5 - The Blind Drop
The week following the gala was a masterclass in psychological torture. The Moretti estate had transformed into a fortress. Heavily armed guards patrolled the manicured gardens, and the wrought-iron gates remained firmly shut. Inside, Sofia was allowed to roam the expansive halls, but she was never truly alone. If a guard wasn't watching her, Anna was.
Anna had been moved into a guest room adjacent to the bridal suite. Her official title was "Personal Consultant," a polite euphemism for warden. The dynamic between the two women was agonizing. They were both prisoners, yet one was holding the other's leash.
On Thursday afternoon, Matteo informed them they were going to Manhattan. Sofia needed to be seen shopping at Bergdorf Goodman—a public display to signal that the Moretti family was unbothered by the recent violence.
The department store was a sanctuary of hushed voices and expensive perfumes. Sofia browsed the designer racks with a blank expression, flanked by two massive bodyguards in tailored suits, while Anna walked half a step behind her.
“He’s here,” Sofia whispered, her voice barely carrying over the ambient jazz music.
Anna stiffened. “Who?”
“Agent Vance. My handler. Third floor, by the escalators. Gray suit, reading a newspaper.”
Anna subtly shifted her gaze. Sure enough, a man with the rigid posture of a federal agent was pretending to browse a display of silk ties. He wasn’t looking at Sofia, but his presence was a screaming siren. He was making contact.
“Sofia, don’t,” Anna breathed, stepping closer to pretend to examine a Prada handbag. “Matteo’s men are watching every move you make.”
“I have to,” Sofia replied, her fingers white-knuckling the fabric of a dress. “I wrote a note on a compact mirror. I need to drop it in his pocket when we pass. If I don’t tell them I’ve been compromised, they’ll keep acting on the intel Carlo is feeding them. Innocent people are going to get hurt.”
“If you drop that note, Matteo will kill you,” Anna said, the harsh reality slicing through the polite atmosphere of the store. “And he’ll kill me for letting you do it.”
“I’m a federal agent, Anna. I took an oath to stop men like him. I can’t let them use the Bureau as a hit squad against the Romanos.”
Sofia began moving toward the escalator. The bodyguards shadowed her. Anna felt a cold sweat break out across her neck. She watched Sofia’s hand slide into her designer purse, her fingers wrapping around a silver makeup compact. They were ten feet from Vance. Five feet.
Sofia intentionally stumbled, her heel catching the edge of a marble tile. She pitched forward, colliding directly into Agent Vance.
“Oh, excuse me!” Sofia gasped, playing the flustered socialite perfectly.
Vance caught her by the arms, his face impassive. “Careful, ma'am.”
It was the perfect moment. Sofia’s hand moved toward Vance’s coat pocket.
But Anna was faster.
In a flash of movement, Anna dropped her own touch-up bag, sending lipsticks, powders, and brushes scattering across the floor directly between Sofia and Vance. The sudden clatter caused the bodyguards to lunge forward, instantly separating Sofia from the agent.
“I’m so sorry!” Anna cried, dropping to her knees and scrambling to pick up the cosmetics. “My bag just snapped!”
Sofia stared down at Anna, her hand frozen mid-air, the silver compact still hidden in her palm. The bodyguards quickly ushered Sofia away from Vance, forming a protective wall.
Vance gave Anna a fleeting, analytical look before turning and stepping onto the down escalator, disappearing from sight.
When they returned to the estate, Sofia cornered Anna in the dressing room, her eyes blazing with fury. “You stopped me. You protected them.”
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Anna closed her makeup kit with a sharp, decisive click. She looked at the FBI agent, her own fear replaced by a cold, hardened resolve.
“I protected us,” Anna said, her voice like steel. “I am not dying for your failed mission, Sofia. You’re in the mob now. Act like it.”
