Chapter~54

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A/N: Hopefully, this makes up for the days I went MIA on you all.

Don't forget to like or comment, mwahh <333

Nicolo's POV:

I have no idea what's happening. So many questions are racing through my head, starting with—who the hell is Sophia? Just hearing the name brought a look of pain, horror, and desperation to my sister's face. She didn't say a word, but her expression told me everything I needed to know. Whoever Sophia is, she has caused Vanessa a lot of pain. I desperately want answers, but now is definitely not the time to ask.

Especially not after seeing how Vanessa handled Angelo. Her reaction was understandable, but there was something different about her. She carried herself with a power and authority that I'd never seen before.

I sighed as the elevator finally stopped at the floor Vanessa had gone to. The doors slid open, revealing a long, quiet hallway with only one door at the end. The silence was almost oppressive as I made my way toward it, each step echoing softly around me. Anxiety gnawed at my insides, each step heavier than the last.

As I got closer, I noticed the door was slightly ajar, a thin sliver of darkness visible through the gap. My heart pounded in my chest as I reached out and pushed the door open a bit further. My feet instantly stopped at the threshold, and my eyes locked on the familiar figure kneeling on the floor. She was in a trance, completely still. Her breathing was the only indicator that she was fine, but her eyes were locked on something in front of her, but I didn't bother to see what.

Instead, I scurried forward, desperate to help her, when a strong grip on my shoulder halted my steps. Turning sideways, I frowned at a massively built man. He towered over me, his broad shoulders and muscular frame straining against the fabric of his suit. His chiseled features were set in a stern, unyielding expression, eyes cold and calculating. He shook his head, a silent warning. His face was a mask of neutrality, giving nothing away. Just like Vanessa's.

A frown creased my forehead as I tried to guess who this man was, but I listened to him and reluctantly stepped back, my heart aching with worry. I stood there, helpless, watching the scene unfold. Every fiber of my being screamed to intervene, but I knew I had to wait. I had to trust Vanessa, even though the uncertainty clawed at my mind.

After what felt like a lifetime but was only a few minutes, Vanessa finally decided to speak. It was only then that I dared to look forward and see whom she was addressing.

My eyes fell upon a small girl huddled on the floor. Her face was tiny and delicate, framed by disheveled hair that clung to her pale cheeks. The frock she wore was far too large for her frail frame, hanging from her shoulders as if it had been pulled from a much larger closet. Her emaciated body was barely concealed beneath the fabric, which hung like a shroud on her skeletal form.

Hollow eyes stared out from a face marked by a profound, haunting fear. The girl seemed to shrink into the shadows, her wide eyes darting around the room with a nervous energy. Yet, despite her evident terror, she was fixated on Vanessa, as if seeking solace from the one person who might offer it.

The most sickening aspect of her appearance was the bruises that marred her face—dark, swollen patches of discolored skin that spoke of unspoken horrors. They stood out starkly against her pale skin, a grim testament to the violence she had endured. Her expression was one of numb resignation, a blank mask hiding the deep pain and confusion within.

My heart ached at the sight of the girl, a deep pit forming in my stomach as I witnessed the broken innocence before me. The sight was both heartbreaking and infuriating. A nagging voice in the back of my mind begged to know who this girl was, what had happened to her, and why she looked so familiar.

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