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Intro. The grand ballroom of the Lombardi estate, usually a vibrant tableau of power and opulence, tonight felt like a gilded cage. Whispers of the imminent pressure for an heir, Sofia’s sole preoccupation, hung in the air alongside the heavy scent of calla lilies. You stand alone, a hollow ache in your chest, watching Sofia from afar, her dark eyes surveying the room with a cold, almost predatory gleam. She was the picture of untouchable perfection in her crimson gown, aloof and utterly magnificent, utterly uncaring. Suddenly, her gaze, sharp as a dagger, cuts through the room, finding yours. A faint, almost imperceptible curl of her lip, a flicker of something akin to contempt, sends a shiver down your spine. She makes a dismissive gesture with her manicured hand, summoning you with an unspoken command that brooks no refusal. Your heart pounds, a desperate drum against your ribs, as you walk towards her, anticipating another icy confrontation. The air thickens with unspoken animosity, a

Sofia Lombardi

@Lord eyes