Beneath The surface

As the door to the living room swung open, Sofia stepped inside, her posture regal and controlled. Her movements were deliberate, as if she had already prepared herself for whatever awaited her within these walls. Mateo followed closely behind, his eyes scanning the room warily, fully aware of the tension hanging in the air. Rodrigo,straightened up immediately and turned to face her, an ever-present mask of calmness on his face.

“Sofia,” Rodrigo greeted smoothly, offering a charming smile. “I didn’t expect to see you back so soon, after everything that happened today. You’ve certainly stirred up quite a storm.” He stepped toward her, though his words were laced with a subtle, calculating edge. “But I’m sure you handled those reporters just fine. You always were good at... presenting yourself.”

Sofia, holding her gaze steady, let his words wash over her without reacting. She’d learned long ago that with Rodrigo, it was best to ignore the surface pleasantries. Beneath the calm was a keen manipulator, someone who could twist any situation to his advantage. But Sofia knew better. She had played this game with him once before.

"Thank you, Uncle Rodrigo," Sofia replied with polite indifference, her tone betraying none of the anger she’d felt earlier. "I trust it was a very productive day here, with everything under control."

Rodrigo's smile only widened as he took a step back, his hands clasped behind his back as if he were lecturing her. "Of course. Everything is always under control," he said smoothly, a practiced warmth in his voice. "We simply want what's best for the family... and for you, Sofia." His eyes flicked to Mateo, giving a nod of acknowledgment. "Welcome back, Mateo. I trust you’ve been looking after your sister in this... newfound adventure of hers."

Mateo, who had been silent until now, gave a small nod of agreement. He, too, understood the dynamics of the Montero family all too well. But he didn’t share the same tolerance for games that Sofia did. His eyes narrowed slightly, sizing up Rodrigo, before glancing at Sofia.

Sofia’s smile was a mask, but her eyes spoke volumes. She knew exactly what Rodrigo was trying to do. His fake concern, the faux warmth, it was all part of his method to ensure control. But she wasn’t falling for it. Not this time.

She let the silence linger for a moment, her gaze meeting Rodrigo's without flinching. “I’m sure you’re doing well, Uncle," she said with a calculated edge. 

Rodrigo, looked up at her, his eyes flickering with the briefest moment of contempt before he masked it. "You think this is a game, don’t you, Sofia?” he asked, his tone icily calm. “This isn’t about you parading in front of the press. It’s about the future of this family and its legacy."

“I know exactly what it’s about, uncle," Sofia said, her voice firm and unwavering. "And if anyone understands the weight of carrying a family name, it's me.” Her words were sharp, cutting through the tension. “I’ve been carrying the Montero legacy for years while you’ve all been too busy to see it. The world isn’t waiting for you to decide how to play the game, and neither am I."

Rodrigo, ever the opportunist, smirked ever so slightly, leaning casually against the wall 

“I’ve worked hard for everything I have,” she continued, her voice cool as she glanced around the room. “I made sure that the name Montero meant something even when I wasn’t here. But don’t mistake my strength for arrogance. I came back to help. So, let’s stop pretending like I don’t belong here, because I do.”

Rodrigo observed her in silence, though his eyes glinted with amusement. He had no intention of letting Sofia gain too much ground, he intended to push her until she faltered. But for now, he would watch his father break her 

“Well said, Sofia,” he added smoothly, now the picture of diplomacy. “It’s exactly this determination that makes you worthy of your place, even if the transition is... difficult for some of us to accept." He tilted his head, his voice smooth as honey, adding just enough veiled critique to make his statement sting. Mateo swallowed from where he was standing "But nothing worth having comes without a little struggle, right?”

Sofia’s lips pressed into a thin smile. She wasn’t fooled. But she wasn’t ready to show all her cards either.

“As always, Uncle,” she replied quietly, “I’ll be sure to take that into account.”

With that, she turned towards the stairs, Mateo following close behind her. Neither of them said another word as they exited the living room, leaving a charged silence behind them. Rodrigo watched them go, a cold smile playing on his lips.

But deep down, he knew that Sofia wasn’t just a pawn in this game. She was playing with her own hand. And it was only a matter of time before the Montero family’s power dynamics began to shift, one way or another.

•••••

Sofia walked into her room, her movements sharp and deliberate, a mixture of anger and exhaustion clouding her thoughts. She scoffed quietly as she thought about her uncle’s fake sincerity. His words lingered, grating on her nerves, but she had learned long ago not to let him, or anyone, get to her. Not now. Not anymore.

Her eyes instinctively turned to the old family photo hanging on the wall. It was a black-and-white picture taken years ago, of a small, happy family. There she was, a five-year-old child, beaming in her parents' arms. Mateo, older and protective, stood by their side. They were happy then, before the accident that shattered everything. The memories came rushing back, memories of her mother’s laughter, her father’s comforting voice. The world had seemed perfect then.

Sofia stared at the picture for a moment, a heavy ache tightening in her chest. She ran her fingers along the frame, feeling the coolness of it, the weight of the past pulling her down. The tears she had tried to hold back finally fell, warm and uninvited.

If they were here, this fight wouldn’t be like this, she thought. She could almost hear her mother’s voice, soothing and wise, telling her how to handle the situation, how to stand firm, how to not let anyone tear her apart. But she wasn’t there. Neither of them was.

Mateo, her big brother, the one who had promised to protect her, was strong, at least on the surface. But she knew his heart. He was weaker than anyone realized. He could smile in front of the world, take control when he had to, but the pressure always took a toll on him. She had to be strong for both of them. It had always been that way since they lost their parents.

Her vision blurred with the tears as she sat down on the sofa. She wasn’t sure when she drifted off to sleep, but the softness of the cushion and the familiar feeling of home lulled her into an almost peaceful rest, something she hadn’t felt in so long.

Mateo stood by the door to Sofia’s room, he just finished taking a bath and decided to check her up. He froze when he saw her lying on the couch, curled into herself, her face streaked with the tear stains she hadn’t wiped away. A wave of guilt hit him, he had promised to protect her, but now she looked so vulnerable, overwhelmed by everything that had happened, and it broke him to see her like this.

He stepped inside softly, his Crocs barely making a sound on the polished floor. His gaze softened, taking in her fragile form, and for a moment, he hesitated. He had his own burdens to bear, but he could never ignore his sister’s pain. The weight of the world, the expectations, the family rivalry, it was too much for her to handle alone.

Quietly, he approached her, his hand hovering near her shoulder as if unsure. But he knew what he had to do. He knelt by the sofa, gently lifting her into his arms. She didn’t stir, her face still relaxed in sleep, even if it was troubled sleep. Her body felt small in his arms, as if the world itself were pressing down on her, draining the life out of her spirit.

He carried her to her bed, careful not to wake her, and lay her down slowly. Pulling the blanket up to her shoulders, he smoothed a strand of hair away from her face. His heart tightened in his chest as he saw the vulnerability in her, the weight of everything she carried alone.

Sofia stirred slightly, letting out a small sigh in her sleep, and for a moment, Mateo felt that unspoken bond between them, the connection that only siblings could understand.

He stood there for a few moments, just watching her sleep, his eyes lingering on her calm face. The anxiety he had carried since their parents' death, the pressure of the Montero legacy weighing on both their shoulders, it all seemed so much heavier in that moment. But he would never let her know how much it hurt. He would never let her see his weaknesses, just like he knew she hid hers.

She’s so strong, Mateo thought quietly, watching over her. But maybe... she doesn’t have to be all the time. Maybe it’s okay to let her rest sometimes.

And with that thought, he stepped quietly out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar, just in case she woke.

 As he stepped away from her room and closed the door gently behind him, a deep ache bloomed in his chest, a familiar, gnawing discomfort. He knew Sofia was the one who would carry most of the burden of their family's survival. She always had. But for all his promises to protect her, he could never escape the pressure to fulfill the impossible expectations placed on him.

His own doubts, his own fears, had always been buried beneath the smile he showed the world. In front of their employees, in front of their family, he was the steadfast leader, the strong older brother who would steer them to victory. But behind closed doors, alone in the quiet of his room or walking the halls of the family estate, the weight was crushing.

He had never admitted it to anyone, but it was exhausting to pretend all the time, to hold up the facade that he was invulnerable. Mateo wasn’t made for this world of cutthroat business and constant warfare. He had never been as ruthless as their grandfather. He didn't have the coldness that their uncle, Rodrigo, possessed. He simply didn’t have what it took to make the harsh decisions, to sever ties, to crush the competition without a second thought.

Mateo sat on the edge of his own bed, his hands pressed against his temples as he tried to release the tension in his mind. He looked at the family photo hanging above his dresser, the same one Sofia had been staring at earlier. The image of their parents, so full of life and hope. The life they could’ve had. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to block out the memory, but it was impossible.

The responsibility, his responsibility, had been thrust upon him long before Sofia was even old enough to understand. Their parents’ car accident had stolen so much from them, not just the warmth of their love but the foundations of a legacy that Mateo was struggling to keep intact. And now, even with Sofia returning, he could see the cracks beginning to form.

His thoughts drifted back to that moment, when their grandfather had expressed his frustration with Sofia’s return. That look in his eyes, the cold fury in his words, Mateo knew how Emilio felt. Having a female heir was considered an embarrassment by their patriarch. But Mateo knew Sofia could handle it. She wasn’t just an heir because of blood; she had built the family name herself in Europe, proving that she was strong and capable.

But Mateo feared what that meant for him. If the family became more centered around Sofia and her vision, what place did that leave for him? He wasn’t meant to be a businessman, not in the way their grandfather or even Rodrigo were. Sofia, in her own way, was better suited for the fight that lay ahead. She had proven it with every step she took, everything she had done for the company while he stayed behind in the shadows.

“Am I just a placeholder?” Mateo whispered to the empty room, his voice barely audible.

The question lingered in the air, unanswered. And though he tried to ignore it, the truth was clear. He had always been the safe choice, the gentle hand for those who needed someone to lean on. But as his family’s future loomed ahead, he couldn’t help but question his role. Was he destined to be nothing more than the figurehead, quiet, compliant, but ultimately powerless?

The weight of expectation, the pressure to be someone he was not, was suffocating. He clenched his fists at his sides, trying to silence the feeling that his mind wasn’t his own, that every move he made was choreographed by those who didn’t truly understand him. The Montero name carried power, yes, but at what cost? He felt as if he was losing himself in a world that demanded so much more than he was able to give.

After a long pause, he sighed and lay down in the bed. He stared at the ceiling, his eyes tracing the edges of the shadows. He wondered what kind of man he was becoming. A man who could smile through the chaos, maintain control, pretend he had it all figured out. But when it was just him, when the world outside ceased to exist for a moment... the truth came crashing in.

He glanced at his phone, his finger poised. There were too many times he had avoided calls, too many moments he had ignored the realization that someone like Adam would always be the stronger choice, someone who could lead with the ruthlessness that Mateo lacked.

He exhaled, the truth weighed heavily on him, there was no easy way out of this. He would have to keep pretending, just like always. He would have to continue the fight, continue to do whatever it took to make sure Sofia and the Montero name weren’t crushed under the weight of failure. But deep down, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could bear the pressure.

In the silence of his room, Mateo let the exhaustion swallow him. To him the carastrophe was yet to come