Page 2 of Claimed By the Enemy

“Now I know that whatever you’ve been planning goes deeper than I initially thought.” His voice drops to something almostdangerous. “That stunt with One Construction could have buried my company completely.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “You walked into it willingly.”

“Because I was curious whether you’d actually go through with it.” His eyes narrow when I finally turn to face him. “Tell me something, Sophie. How does it feel to discover you’ve been fighting the wrong enemy this entire time?”

My head snaps toward him. “What are you talking about?”

“Your father. Marco Bellini. The man you’ve spent years planning to avenge.” Dom leans back against the leather seat, completely relaxed despite having just blown up my world. “He’s the real villain in this story.”

“That’s a lie.”

Dom’s tone stays conversational, almost casual. “What exactly do you know about the night your parents died? Beyond whatever story Uncle Enzo fed you.”

“I know your father murdered them.” The words taste like poison in my mouth.

“My father tried to save them.”

“That’s impossible.” But even as I say it, something cold starts creeping up my spine.

Dom watches me with those unreadable dark eyes, and I hate how steady his voice sounds. “Your father made a deal with my family’s enemies. Sold out everything for money. When my father discovered the betrayal, he tried to warn your parents and get them somewhere safe before it was too late.”

“You’re making this up.” My voice comes out smaller than I intended.

“Your father’s greed got them killed, Sophie. His betrayal destroyed both our families.”

“No.” The word tears out of me. “That’s not what happened.”

“Then tell me what did happen. Your version.”

I open my mouth, then close it again. Because I don’t have a version. I have Uncle Enzo’s story, the one he’s repeated since I was ten years old. The one I accepted without question because questioning meant doubting the only family I had left.

“My uncle raised me. He wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

“Your uncle turned you into a weapon pointed at the wrong target.”

“He gave me a purpose.”

“He gave you his version of revenge.”

The car feels too small suddenly. The air too thin. I reach for the door handle, needing space, needing to get away from Dom’s steady voice dismantling everything I believe.

“Stop the car,” I tell Vincent, my voice sharp with desperation.

“Don’t,” Dom says quietly, but Vincent’s already pulling over to the curb.

I don’t wait for the car to come to a complete stop. I’m out the door the second it slows, my heels hitting the sidewalk as I stride away from the sedan. I don’t have a plan, don’t know where I’m going. I just need to move, to breathe, to get away from Dom and his impossible accusations.

“Sophie.”

His voice carries across the evening air, but I don’t turn around. I keep walking, my pace quickening as I hear his footsteps behind me.

“Sophie, stop.”

“Leave me alone,” I call over my shoulder.

But Dom’s legs are longer than mine, and he catches up easily. His hand closes around my wrist, firm but not painful.

“Let go of me.”