Another flash of lightning illuminated the room.
Through the sheer fabric, I saw a silhouette. A tall, broad figure standing out in the pouring rain, staring directly into the bedroom.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Nicholas had said the perimeter was secure. He had said I was safe here. I looked around the room frantically, searching for anything I could use as a weapon, my hand closing around a heavy silver candlestick on the nightstand.
The silhouette moved. The balcony door, which I assumed was locked, creaked open with a slow, agonizing groan. The wet, cold wind rushed into the room, blowing the curtains inward like ghostly wings.
A man stepped into the bedroom, dripping water onto the hardwood floor. He wore tactical gear, a dark mask covering his face, and in his hand was a silenced pistol. He didn’t look around the room; his eyes locked directly onto the bed where I had been sleeping just moments before.
He raised the weapon, pointing it at the empty sheets, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Realizing the bed was empty, he paused, his head snapping toward the side of the room where I was hiding behind a heavy armchair.
“Sofia?” the man whispered. His voice wasn’t filled with malice. It was filled with utter, breathless shock. He raised his left hand, pulling down the dark mask covering his face.
The lightning flashed again, brightly illuminating his features. It was a young man, no older than twenty-five, with piercing blue eyes and a expression of profound disbelief.
“My God, Sofia…” he breathed, taking a step toward me, lowering his weapon completely. “Nicholas told everyone you were dead. He told your uncle your car went into the river. I thought… I thought I lost you. I came to kill him for what he did to you.”
I stared at him, my mind spinning into complete chaos. This man knew the real Sofia. He loved her—I could see it in the raw agony in his eyes. And he thought I was her.
If I told him the truth, that I was a fake, he would realize Nicholas’s deception and might kill me to keep the secret. If I played along, I was betraying Nicholas, the only man keeping my family alive.
Before I could make a choice, the heavy oak doors of the master suite were suddenly blown off their hinges with a deafening blast.
Nicholas stood in the doorway, his coat soaked with rain, his face twisted in a mask of pure fury. In his hand was the same blood-stained pistol from my father’s kitchen.
“Step away from my wife,” Nicholas growled, leveling the weapon at the intruder.
The young man didn’t hesitate. He spun around, grabbing me by the arm with a grip like iron, pulling me in front of him as a human shield, the cold barrel of his silenced pistol pressing hard against my temple.
“She’s not your wife, Barrera!” the man screamed back, his voice echoing over the thunder. “And if you take one more step, I’ll blow her brains out right here!”
Nicholas didn’t lower his gun. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and for the first time, I couldn’t read his expression at all. His finger rested firmly on the trigger.
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