Elena tugged lightly on Luca’s sleeve, her voice soft enough to melt steel.

“It’s fine… Let’s just go check the security room. It won’t take long.”

At that moment, I actually believed seeing the cameras would clear my name.

I was naïve.

The guard in charge of the surveillance room didn’t even look up when he said,

“Sorry, kids. Cameras on that hallway were down since this morning.”

My mind blanked.

Luca exhaled sharply, lifting one shoulder in a lazy shrug as if to say See? I knew it.

He leaned casually against the railing in the crowded hallway, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Sofia Colombo, you really went all out to make Rossi look bad, didn’t you?”

“Afraid she might somehow threaten your place in my eyes?”

I hadn’t done anything—and yet, shame and helplessness washed over me in a sudden, suffocating wave.

My nose burned.

Tears blurred my vision.

I hadn’t touched Elena’s keynote draft.

I hadn’t even been near her desk.

Yet humiliation wrapped around me like barbed wire.

Luca and I had been promised to each other since childhood.

The Valenti and Colombo families lived in the same private compound.

He was older by a year, and he used to shield me from every danger—every scraped knee, every insult, every childish fight.

He used to say I was his principessa, the girl he would protect no matter what.

That one day, I would be his Donna.

For ten years, he never let anyone lay a hand on me.

Not even scold me too harshly.

And I… grew used to that version of him.

Until Elena Rossi arrived.

Valenti voice low and laced with concern.

“Rossi’s always been small, fragile… her father’s a drunk, her home’s no place for a girl. If it weren’t for her grades, teachers and even the authorities would have stepped in long ago. She’s been surviving on her own, juggling school and work just to get by. She’s had it rough… ”

Then he looked at me, frustration carved on his face.

“Not everyone grows up like you—carefree, spoiled, protected. If I don’t look out for her, no one will. Try using a little compassion.”

And with Elena, he had plenty of compassion.

Now she sniffled twice, perfectly timed, and Luca’s expression hardened even more as he turned back to me.

“What are you crying for?” he said, voice sharp as broken glass.

“You think tears are going to make me soft? You screw up and still play the victim—Sofia, it’s pathetic.”

Right then, Elena’s thoughts brushed my mind again:

God, this man is useless. Even if he doesn’t believe his precious childhood fiancée, he really didn’t need to go this far. If I were Sofia, I’d be bleeding inside.

And he dares to call her his favorite princess? Pathetic. This moron—wave a finger, and he’s prancing around like a trained dog.

Rich, stupid suck-ups are always fun to have around, anyway.

A bitter laugh escaped me, even as my tears burned my cheeks.

It suddenly hits me—what if he ever got a peek into Elena Rossi’s mind?

done with arguing, done with hoping.

But Luca grabbed my wrist, his grip cold and unforgiving.

“Going somewhere?”

“Apologize to Rossi.”

“No.” My voice trembled, but I forced steel into it.

“I won’t apologize. I have no reason to. I didn’t touch her keynote draft, nor did I tear it up.”

I straightened up, lifted my head, and blinked back the tears, keeping my gaze fixed on him with unyielding defiance.

Around us, the academy students—children of various Mafia families—whispered like a pack circling blood.

“Obviously Luca’s into Elena now. Sofia’s just jealous she’s being replaced.”

“Yeah, jealous enough to destroy Elena’s project? That’s low—even for her.”

“I’m not getting involved with Luca anymore. What if Sofia snaps and comes for me next?”

“Make her apologize. It’s the least she can do.”

No one heard me.

They heard what they wanted.

Every accusation fell like another stone on my chest, crushing the breath out of me.

And Luca… he was the first stone.

He slammed his fist against the wall beside my head, the sound cracking through the corridor.

“Fine,” he spat, fury twisting his features. “If you won’t apologize, then from now on—don’t come to me. Don’t say my name. Don’t pretend we’re anything.”

Elena gasped dramatically, grabbing his hand as if she were the one in pain.

“Luca, please—don’t hurt yourself. It’s not worth it.”

Her voice wavered, perfectly fragile.

“Even if she apologized, my keynote is gone… I have to rewrite everything…”

Luca looked like he wanted to keep fighting, but the class bell rang and the hallway emptied quickly.

Leaving me standing there, swallowed whole by a crime I never committed.

I kept my head down as I walked back to my seat.

The next class was Corporate Strategy & Leadership—a mandatory course for heirs of Mafia families.

Our instructor, Professor Moretti, was formidable across campus.

Students called her the Dragon Lady behind her back.

Last week she’d assigned a Management Competency Sheet.

All we had to do was hand it in.

Simple.

Mine, which I knew I placed in my bag, had vanished.

“Front. Now,” she ordered.

“Ten push-ups. Go.”

By the third, my arms were trembling.

By the tenth, I was shaking, every movement a struggle, but she didn’t flinch or offer a word of mercy.

“Failure to comply reflects failure in discipline. Stand in the back. And pray you learn.”

At the Valenti-Colombo Academy, instructors held full disciplinary authority.

Punishment wasn’t just humiliation—it became part of our official assessment.

A stain on one’s record meant jeopardizing graduation…

or the family’s trust.

I had never been punished before.

Not once.

Forty-five minutes dragged like forty-five years.

By the time class was over, Luca had made his way to me, moving with that infuriatingly lazy confidence.

He lifted the Management Competency Sheet carelessly between two fingers.

My sheet.

Then he tore it straight down the middle.

“You were out of line earlier,” he said with cold, deliberate calm.

“Consider this your punishment. A taste of what you put Rossi through.”

He tossed the shredded pieces at my desk.

“If you want this to end, go apologize to her. Do that, and we move on.”

My throat closed.

By lunchtime, the cafeteria was nearly empty.

I ordered braised short ribs—my favorite—but the smell alone made my stomach churn.

I sat by the window, food untouched.

I didn’t even notice Elena Rossi approaching until she slid gracefully into the seat across from me.

Her eyes sparkled with that pathetic, rehearsed innocence she always wore when she was about to stir up trouble.

“Sofia,” she purred, eyes glittering with fake innocence, “aren’t you curious? How my competition keynote ended up in your desk? Or who ripped it?”

I felt my patience snap—not in anger, but in pure exhaustion.

The pretending.

The way she acted all innocent while clearly trying to get under my skin.

I stood up, brushed my hands off, and without a second thought, tipped my warm seaweed–egg soup straight onto her perfectly powdered face.

“Elena,” I said, voice low, flat, and utterly uninterested, “before you try another cheap stunt with me, think very carefully.”

“I’m not interested in your games. I don’t have the time, and I certainly don’t have the patience. So let me make this simple—get out of my way.”

“I can make you disappear from this academy without lifting a finger.

I can make sure no school touches your name again.

I can make your whole family unemployable overnight.

So tell me—where exactly did you find the courage to act superior in front of me?”

Her eyes filled instantly—big, glassy, perfect tears.

“Fine—yes,” Elena choked out, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I admit your family has more money, more influence, more everything than mine.

But does that mean you get to do whatever you want?

Does having money give you the right to ruin someone’s entire future?”

Her thoughts, however, dripped like poison:

"All that cash and she thinks she’s some kind of queen. Newsflash: she’s just a spoiled little leech riding on her parents’ name. Totally useless. Can’t even keep her childhood sweetheart in line."

"Honestly, he’d jump through hoops for me—do whatever I wanted. And she’s acting like she’s better than me? Give me a break."

I crossed my arms and let out a cold laugh.

“Yes,” I said. “Money does let me do whatever I want. If you don’t believe me—try provoking me again.”

She rushed out, wet and seething.

After the first afternoon class, our group chat exploded.

A recording was leaked.

The conversation from the cafeteria.

My words—my threats—every sentence blasted publicly.

Elena ran up to me, blocking my path, her eyes crimson and watery.

“Sofia, please, it wasn’t me! I don’t know who recorded it—I swear! Please, don’t hurt me—or my family.”

And then Luca appeared.

“Sofia, what exactly are you so proud of?” His voice boomed across the room.

“Your family used to be a small arms dealer. Now you’ve got some money and think you can terrorize people?”

“If I’m here, Rossi is off-limits. Touch her again and you’ll answer to me.”

He took a breath—slow and lethal.

“And starting today, I’ll make sure my parents cut all ties with the Colombo family. All agreements. All cooperation.”

Elena shot me a smile.

Triumphant. Predatory.

Her Heart-Voice:

Sofia, you will never beat me. I’ll take everything from you piece by piece. Luca is only the beginning.

“Apologize. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Before I could even move, he shoved me with all his strength, and I hit the wall with a sickening thud.

A sharp pain shot through my skull, and a thin line of blood ran down my forehead.

His eyes flickered with something—guilt?

And then—

A mechanical voice echoed in my mind:

“Host Sofia, you have unlocked the Heart-Voice Sharing System.

Please choose the person who will receive shared thoughts.”

My breath caught.

The system…

shared other people’s inner thoughts with whoever I chose.

If I selected Luca…

Luca Valenti would hear Elena Rossi’s real thoughts.

My hands trembled.

“Host, please confirm the shared recipient: Luca Valenti.”

I exhaled.

“Confirm.”

The world didn’t change.

Luca was still standing in front of me, jaw set, eyes cold.

“Apologize,” he said again. “Last chance.”

Then—he stiffened.

To Elena.

She was still crying softly, clutching her sleeves, voice trembling as she spoke first.

“Luca… I know Sofia hates me,” she said gently.

“She’s always been sensitive about you and me being close. I understand it must hurt—seeing your attention shift.”

She lowered her head, painfully considerate.

“If she targeted me out of jealousy… I don’t blame her.”

But Luca wasn’t listening to her voice anymore.

Because inside his head, another one slid in—smooth, mocking, unmistakable.

God, he really believed that.

One sob and he threw away his precious childhood princess.

Future Don, my ass. I played him with three sentences.

Luca’s fingers curled slowly.

Elena continued, unaware—

“I just hope you won’t be too hard on her,” she whispered.

“She’s always been protected. Losing you must feel unbearable.”

And her thoughts followed, razor-sharp.

So easy.

Men like him were born to be led by the nose.

Luca turned fully toward her.

“Who exactly did you think was stupid?”

His eyes locked onto hers.

“And who,” he continued,

“did you think you were playing in the palm of your hand?”