Sofia's hand trembled slightly as she set her cup back onto the saucer, the sound of porcelain against porcelain echoing louder in her ears than it should have. The TV above the bar still played, the reporter's voice carrying on with cold indifference. Her funeral. Those two words still burned like fire against her chest.
But she could not allow herself to break down here, not in front of these strangers, not while so many eyes were on her. She straightened her back, forcing her features into the composed mask she had perfected over the past few days. A Green never faltered in public.
She reached for her laptop, swiftly closing the screen as though sealing away her emotions inside it. She wiped the spilled espresso from the corner of the files with a napkin, then rose to her feet. A few heads turned toward her, whispers rising as she adjusted her coat and headed toward the door.
"I'm going to need something stronger than coffee," she muttered under her breath.
Outside, her sleek black car was already waiting by the curb. The driver, Berry, quickly stepped out, his tall frame casting a shadow across the pavement. He wore the standard dark suit of Green staff but his mannerisms were far from stiff. Berry was one of the few people Sofia felt a hint of ease around.
"Miss Sofia," he said, pulling open the door with a respectful nod. "I trust everything went smoothly inside?"
"Smoothly enough," Sofia replied, slipping into the backseat. Her tone carried no edge, but her eyes betrayed her agitation.
Berry glanced at her briefly in the rear-view mirror before shutting the door and returning to the driver's seat. As the car slid into motion, weaving through the busy streets of Autumn Hill, Sofia leaned her head against the cool glass window. The city blurred past in streaks of light and shadow, but her mind was far from it.
"Drive me to the Green building, Berry," she said softly.
"Yes, Miss."
---
The Green building loomed tall and imposing against the skyline, its reflective glass panels catching the afternoon sun like a hundred cold eyes staring down at the world. To outsiders, it was a symbol of wealth and dominance. To Sofia, it was a gilded cage.
Berry parked at the private entrance, and once again moved quickly to open her door. She gave him a small nod of acknowledgment before striding through the marble lobby, her heels clicking in sharp rhythm. The staff greeted her with respectful bows and murmured "Good afternoon, Miss Sofia," but she barely registered them.
When the elevator opened on her floor, she was met by Jenny, her personal maid. Jenny was a petite young woman with soft brown hair neatly tied in a bun, and wide eyes that always seemed both cautious and eager to please.
"Miss Sofia, you're back earlier than expected," Jenny said, bowing slightly.
"I need a cocktail," Sofia said flatly, slipping off her coat.
Jenny blinked but quickly nodded. "Right away, Miss."
By the time Sofia sank into the plush leather armchair in her office, Jenny had returned with a tall glass of something amber and garnished with a thin slice of lemon. Sofia took it, sipping slowly. The burn of alcohol down her throat felt like a strange comfort, dulling the sharp edge of her thoughts.
She allowed her head to fall back, eyes fluttering shut. For a moment she felt the weight of exhaustion tugging her toward sleep.
The ringing of her phone shattered that fragile peace.
She sighed, glancing at the screen. Mother.
Sofia hesitated before answering, steeling her voice. "Mother."
"Sofia, come to the conference room immediately," came the cool yet commanding voice of Mrs. Green. "There is something important we must discuss."
Sofia suppressed the groan rising in her chest. She drained another gulp of her drink, set the glass aside, and rose to her feet.
---
The conference room was as cold and elegant as the rest of the building, with mahogany table, leather chairs, and a sweeping view of the city through floor-to-ceiling windows. Her parents were already seated when she arrived: her father, Mr. Green, with his sharp suit and sharper gaze, and her mother, poised as ever in a blue dress that hugged her figure with dignified precision.
"You called for me," Sofia said, entering with practiced composure.
"Sit, my dear," her mother said warmly, though her eyes scanned Sofia's face with quiet scrutiny. "We have something to prepare for."
Sofia lowered herself into the chair opposite them, folding her hands neatly on the table. "What is it?"
"There will be a fundraiser tomorrow evening," Mr. Green explained, his voice steady, practical. "It's for the orphanage we sponsor in the south district. The event will be hosted at the Avalon Hotel, and the guest list includes some of the most influential names in business and politics. Naturally, you are expected to attend."
Her mother added, "Not only attend, but contribute. You should prepare a donation, perhaps gifts for the children as well. This is an opportunity for you to demonstrate both generosity and grace. People will be watching."
Sofia inclined her head slowly. "I understand."
"Good," her father said, satisfied.
But then her mother's expression softened, concern seeping into her elegant features. "Sofia, are you feeling well? You've seemed… different these past few days. Distant."
Sofia's breath caught, her mind racing. She forced a faint smile. "I'm fine, Mother. Just… tired. The workload has been heavier than usual."
Her mother's eyes lingered on her, searching, unconvinced. "You don't quite seem yourself. Even your father has noticed."
Mr. Green cleared his throat. "We've been patient, but it is unlike you to falter. You've always been strong."
Sofia lowered her gaze, biting the inside of her cheek. "I will do better."
Her mother reached across the table, placing a hand gently over hers. "We're not criticizing you, dear. We're worried. You've been… off. Just promise me that if something is wrong, you'll tell us."
Sofia's chest tightened painfully. If only she could tell them the truth. That she wasn't their Sofia at all, but Elena, their sworn enemy's daughter, trapped in this body. The weight of the secret pressed harder against her ribs, but she forced herself to nod. "I promise."
Her mother smiled faintly, withdrawing her hand. "That's all I ask."
The conversation shifted back to the fundraiser, the logistics of the evening, the speeches that might be required, the faces she would need to charm. Sofia absorbed it all, her mind spinning with the double burden of playing the perfect daughter and hiding her true identity.
Just as the meeting began to wind down, her mother spoke again, her tone casual, as though it were an afterthought.
"Oh, and Sofia…"
Sofia looked up.
"Your boyfriend Chad will accompany you to the fundraiser."
The words landed like ice in her veins.
Her grip on the armrest tightened, her composure threatening to crack. She remembered vividly the way Chad had kissed her without permission, the discomfort that still lingered whenever he was near. To sit beside him tomorrow, in front of hundreds of powerful eyes, pretending to be his devoted partner…
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Her mother, mistaking the silence for acceptance, gave her a smile. "I thought you'd be pleased."
But inside, Sofia was anything but not.