Chapter 3 — The Ghost’s Domain

Dual POV

Sophia

The DeLuca mansion was a gilded prison, a place where cold stone walls masqueraded as luxury. The ceilings soared above me, adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to mock my smallness in this vast, unwelcoming space. The marble beneath my bare feet was icy, a sharp reminder that warmth had no place here—not in the air, not in the walls, and certainly not in the man who ruled it.

As I walked through the west wing, an unnatural silence enveloped me, broken only by the faint echo of my footsteps. On my left, a row of towering windows revealed the meticulously manicured hedges outside, their symmetry so precise it felt almost oppressive. Beyond them, the city loomed, its skyline blurred by the ever-present mist, a ghostly reminder of the life I’d left behind. On my right, portraits of DeLuca men lined the walls, their painted eyes following my every move, their expressions a mix of pride and disdain.

The weight of their gaze pressed down on me, but I didn’t falter. My fingers trailed along the wall as I walked, tracing the grooves between the stones. It was a small act of defiance, as though I might uncover some hidden truth buried in the cracks. Every detail of this mansion screamed control—calculated, deliberate, unyielding. It was Luca’s kingdom, and I was an outsider, treading carefully in a place that wasn’t mine.

Then I saw it: a door at the end of the hallway, distinct in its dark wood and understated design. Unlike the others, its frame bore faint scratches, as if someone had once tried to force it open. My curiosity flared, sharp and insistent, and I found myself drawn to it.

The handle was smooth beneath my fingers as I tested it, unsurprised to find it locked. I leaned closer, pressing my ear to the door. Nothing. The silence on the other side was impenetrable, yet it seemed to hum with significance, as though the room held secrets waiting to be uncovered.

Why was it locked? A study? A vault? Something darker? My pulse quickened as my mind raced through possibilities. The door felt like a metaphor for this entire house—a barrier between me and the truth, between me and freedom.

I tightened my grip on the locket at my throat, its familiar weight grounding me. Matteo’s childhood drawing pressed against the delicate gold reminded me why I was here, why I couldn’t afford to falter. My brother’s safety was the tether holding me together, even as my world shifted beneath my feet.

A faint creak behind me made my breath hitch. I turned sharply, my heart stuttering when I saw him. Luca stood in the shadows, his gray eyes glinting like steel.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was low, deliberate, each word imbued with quiet authority.

I straightened, schooling my features into calm indifference. “Exploring,” I said simply, my tone deliberately even.

His gaze flicked to the door behind me, then back to my face. “The west wing isn’t for wandering.”

“Noted.” I folded my arms across my chest, meeting his stare with as much steel as I could muster. “Am I confined to certain parts of the house, then? Should I expect a map of approved areas?”

His lips twitched—just barely, almost imperceptibly—but it wasn’t amusement. It was something darker, a flicker of something I couldn’t name. “It’s not about confinement, Mrs. DeLuca. It’s about understanding boundaries.”

Mrs. DeLuca. The title felt like a chain tightening around my neck. “And what exactly is behind this boundary?” I asked, tilting my head toward the door.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator sizing up its prey. “Some things are better left unseen,” he said finally, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “For now.”

The ambiguity in his words sent a shiver down my spine. “Cryptic,” I muttered, though my pulse pounded in my ears.

His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the oppressive silence.

I exhaled shakily, my fingers tightening around the locket. This place was more than a prison—it was a puzzle, and Luca DeLuca held all the pieces.

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Luca

From the shadows, I watched her retreating form. She moved with a quiet defiance, her head held high despite the weight pressing down on her. Sophia Moretti—or Sophia DeLuca, as she now was—was an enigma. Fragile yet unyielding. Out of place in this house, yet somehow carving a space for herself within it.

I should have been angry. She had no business in the west wing, no right to be near that door. But anger didn’t come. Instead, I felt… curious.

When I agreed to this marriage, it had been a transaction—a means to an end. Her family’s debts cleared, her brother protected. In return, I gained leverage. A pawn.

But Sophia was no pawn.

Her hazel eyes had burned with defiance when I confronted her, her voice steady despite the tension in her posture. She hadn’t cowered, hadn’t apologized. She’d stood her ground, challenging me in ways I wasn’t used to. It was infuriating, but it was also… something else.

I turned my attention to the locked door she’d been drawn to, my hand brushing against the cold metal of the key in my pocket. The room beyond it held memories I’d worked hard to bury—memories of blood and betrayal, of a past that had shaped me into the man I was now.

The faint scratches on the frame caught my eye, a reminder of a night I tried to forget. The air seemed heavier here, as if the door itself exhaled the weight of what lay beyond. She wasn’t ready to see that part of me. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I could face it myself.

My footsteps echoed as I descended the grand staircase. The mansion’s emptiness swallowed the sound, amplifying the silence that seemed to haunt every corner. Marco was waiting in the study, his broad frame leaning against the desk. He straightened when I entered, his sharp gaze immediately locking onto mine.

“She’s curious,” I said, my voice even.

Marco raised an eyebrow. “Sophia?”

“She was in the west wing.”

His frown deepened. “Do you want me to—?”

“No.” I cut him off sharply. “I’ll handle it.”

Marco hesitated, his unease evident. “You sure? Curiosity like that can cause problems.”

I didn’t respond immediately. Instead, I moved to the window, my fingers tracing the edge of my signet ring. The skyline was shrouded in mist, its edges blurred and indistinct. From this vantage point, the city looked like a chessboard, each piece waiting to be moved.

“Keep an eye on her,” I said finally. “But don’t interfere unless I tell you to.”

Marco nodded, but the tension in his stance remained. He didn’t trust her, and perhaps he was right not to. Trust was a rare commodity in this world, and even rarer in this house.

But there was something about Sophia—something that made me pause. She wasn’t like the others who’d come into my life, seeking power or protection or a piece of the DeLuca empire. She was here for her brother, for reasons that had nothing to do with me.

And perhaps that was why I couldn’t bring myself to dismiss her entirely.

I turned away from the window, my thoughts heavy. The mansion was a fortress, a domain I controlled with precision and authority. But with Sophia here, it felt less like a fortress and more like a cage.

For both of us.