Chapter one: Call me “stranger”

Chapter one: Call me “stranger”

[SOFIA]

Have you ever made a decision so reckless that it could change your life forever? Yeah, me too.

I’m Sofia De Marco, and this is the story of how I found myself on a nearly 13-hour flight from Los Angeles to Italy, all for a man who couldn’t stand the sight of me—my father, Giovanni De Marco.

Two weeks ago, I received an acceptance letter from a private college in Italy. I was elated at the prospect of finally getting to know my father better. My mother had often spoken of him, but from what she always said, I was definitely his least favorite person on earth.

With only some cash from my Aunt Jenna and my father’s address in hand, I took a leap of faith.

But here’s the thing: my father had no clue I was coming. As I stood in the airport hours later, my heart raced as I dialed his number repeatedly, only to be met with silence.

“This is Giovanni De Marco. If you have something important to say to me, meet me. I don’t listen to my voicemails.”

There was a short beep.

His voicemail was curt, almost mocking. I rolled my eyes, frustration bubbling up inside me. What kind of greeting was that?

I had never heard my father’s voice before. He vanished from our lives when I was born, never reaching out, never checking in. My mother said he hated me, that I was the reason he fled. Well, he wasn't ready to be a father at the moment I showed up.

After my mother died two years ago, I moved in with Aunt Jenna, but my father never showed up. Sure, it was foolish of me to think that a man who had walked away without a backward glance would suddenly welcome me with open arms. Yet, it was the only sliver of hope I had left.

I had hoped that he would finally deal with whatever hate he had towards me and accept me as his daughter. I had no other family. Just him.

I tried calling again, but it rang and rang until I heard that damn beep again.

“What do you mean there’s no answer?” I groaned, scanning the airport.

The voicemail played again, and despair clawed at my chest. My phone’s battery was dying, and the day was fading into evening. My back ached from the weight of my luggage, and all I wanted was a place to rest my head.

“Tomorrow, I’ll find you, Father.” I muttered to myself, clutching the crumpled note with his address. “Welcome to Italy, Sofia.”

I finally spotted a hotel nearby. It was a grand building, adorned with beautiful ironwork and arched windows. As I pulled my suitcase inside, I approached the front desk, where a sharply dressed man with a neatly trimmed beard greeted me.

He shot a sharp glance at me, frowning.

“Good evening, Ma’am,” he said, looking me over. Welcome. Do you have a reservation?"

I hesitated, brushing a stray lock of dark hair behind my ear. “Actually… no. I just arrived in Italy, and… well, it’s a long story. I need a room for the night.”

The man nodded, tapping away on his keyboard. “We have a few rooms available. Our standard rate is—”

My stomach dropped as he named a figure that was far beyond what I had on hand. There was no damn way I had such an amount to pay for a room. I bit my lower lip, fighting the urge to cry.

I was…frustrated.

For the first time, I began to regret this decision to relocate to Italy. The least I could have done was to inform my father. Earlier, my plan was to take him by surprise; his nineteen-year-old daughter who showed up at his doorstep.

Why had I thought this would be easy?

“Which room would you be paying for?” he asked, breaking me from my thoughts.

“I, um… I don’t have quite enough. Is there any chance…” My voice trailed off, shame washing over me.

“I’m afraid we can’t offer discounts, ma’am.”

Tears pricked at my eyes as I scanned the lobby. It was already dark outside, and I wasn’t ready to search for a cheaper place. I looked back at the receptionist, desperate.

“I’ll give you all the cash I have. Please, just let me stay here for one night—”

“Put it on my tab. I’ll pay for her.”

Startled, I turned to find a tall man standing nearby. He was dressed in a tailored black suit and had his arms folded across his chest.

He was older, with gray threading through his dark hair and his clear blue eyes locked onto mine. For a second, I almost thought he could see right through me.

I blinked. I was sure I had never met him before. I didn’t even know anyone in Italy besides my father. Who was this stranger, and why was he offering to help me?

"What? Pl-please, no. " I stuttered.

He stared at me without a word, and it made me more nervous. I ran my hand through my hair and forced a small smile at him.

“I couldn’t let you do that, sir,” I said.

The man gave a faint smile, shrugged and took another step towards me. “It would be such a shame to let a beautiful young woman spend her first night in Italy out on the street. Consider it my welcome gift.”

“No…no. I don’t—” I muttered. “How did you know that I’m new to…”

“I overheard your conversation with the receptionist. Pardon me. Now, allow me to settle your bills.”

“Thank you, Mr…?” I paused, waiting for a response from him, hoping he would share his name.

“You don’t have to know my name. We probably will never see each other again after tonight,” he extended a hand. “But, you can call me ‘Stranger’. And you are?”