The Astor mansion fell silent when Louis's mother spoke.
Her voice was low, smooth, and dangerously calm. "Miss Roosevelt," she said, every syllable dipped in disdain.
"Dragging a dog into my halls, raising your voice as if this were a marketplace tell me, is this how the Roosevelt family teaches their daughters to behave?"
Sofia tightened her grip on Honey's collar. The golden retriever whined, tugging against her hand, but she didn't flinch.
Her chin rose higher, her glare sharper. "If the Astors can't control their pets, then the Roosevelt family has every right to return what doesn't belong to them. And if you think I'll stand here and bow my head like one of your servants, you're mistaken."
The butlers exchanged nervous and worried glances. The guards shifted uneasily. Nobody spoke when the queen of the Astors was in the room but nobody had ever seen a Roosevelt heiress throw her weight around either.
Louis's mother's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Your arrogance is inherited, I see. Just like your father."
That hit its mark. Sofia's blood boiled. She stepped forward, her eyes blazing. "And your condescension is inherited, too. Just like your son."
A sharp intake of breath echoed through the staff. No one had ever dared compare Louis to his mother at least not aloud.
The older woman's eyes narrowed, her words like daggers. "This insolence is why the Roosevelts will never outshine us. Manners, Miss Roosevelt, are the true measure of class."
Sofia smirked, though her fists trembled at her sides. "Then consider this me dropping out of your little manners class."
And just like that, she cut Louis's mother off mid-sentence, tugged Honey firmly, and marched toward the grand staircase.
"Stop her!" the matriarch ordered.
The guards stepped forward, but Sofia's glare sliced through them. "Don't even try," she snapped. "This dog trespassed into Roosevelt territory. I'm simply returning him to his master. Unless, of course, you'd prefer I throw him over the gates like unwanted trash?"
The guards froze, uncertain. The butler wrung his hands helplessly.
Louis's mother's voice rang out, cold and cutting: "The Roosevelt family truly doesn't know manners."
"Good," Sofia shot back without turning around. "Because right now, manners are the last thing on my mind."
Her heels clacked against the marble floor as she strode up the staircase with the confidence of someone who owned the place. The faint scent of polished wood and fresh flowers lingered in the air. And in a way, she did.
After all, both the Astor and Roosevelt mansions had been designed by the same architect two egos demanding mirror images to prove whose house was grander. Sofia had walked through her own mansion's halls a thousand times. She didn't need directions.
She knew exactly where Louis's room would be.
And she was heading straight for it without any second thoughts and hesitations.
A maid peeked from a side hall, gasping softly and shocked as Sofia passed, her footsteps echoing the hallways.
The butler chased after her, stammering. "Miss Roosevelt, please, you cannot just go in just like that , that's not how it works."
Sofia ignored him.
Another guard blocked her path at the top of the stairs, but she shoved Honey forward.
The retriever barreled into the man's legs, and he stumbled aside, muttering in frustration.
Honey let out a loud bark, drawing a nervous laugh from a nearby servant.
She marched forward, shoulders squared, fire in her veins. "I don't need permission," she muttered. "Not from them. Not from him. Not from anyone."
Finally, she reached the familiar mahogany door. She hesitated for a split second, her hand trembling on the knob, the sound of distant guard shouts growing louder. Her hand curled around it.
She didn't bother knocking.
She shoved it open.
And froze.
Inside, Louis Astor stood by his bed, a towel slung low around his waist, his chest bare, droplets of water still sliding down his skin.
He'd clearly just stepped out of the shower, hair damp, a few strands sticking to his forehead. The room smelled faintly of soap and steam, the hum of a fan filling the silence.
His head snapped toward the door, eyes wide.
The towel slipped just enough to make Sofia's heart stop.
For the first time in her life, Sofia Roosevelt was speechless.
She and Louis locked eyes. Neither moved. Honey barked once, breaking the suffocating silence, then leapt onto the bed, scattering a pile of clothes with a playful yelp.
Louis's lips parted, his voice low with disbelief. "SOFIA ROOSEVELT… what the FUC—"
But Sofia's brain wasn't working. Her pride, her fury, her carefully rehearsed comebacks—all of it evaporated in that single, horrifying, humiliating moment.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She was frozen, cheeks burning, eyes darting anywhere but his half-naked form.
Louis blinked, tugging the towel tighter with one hand. "Do you—" He cleared his throat, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips despite his shock. "Do you usually barge into men's rooms without knocking the freaking door ? Or is this just… me?"
Sofia's jaw clenched. Her brain screamed at her to say something, anything—but her body refused to cooperate.
For once, the fearless Roosevelt heiress had no words.
The muffled shouts of the butler grew closer, "Miss Roosevelt, come back!" echoing down the hall.
Honey wagged his tail, oblivious to the human chaos, and jumped onto Louis's bed like he owned the place.
Sofia wanted to vanish into thin air.
The silence stretched on, heavy and unbearable. Louis tilted his head, eyes glinting with amusement now. "Well, this is… awkward."
His smirk widened as he stepped forward, towel secure, and added, "Guess I owe you a front-row seat to the show now care to explain, or should I call my mom?"
----
PLEASE SUPPORT,
WITH UMM I DON'T KNOW,
SOFIA ROOSEVELT.
WITH MORTIFICATION,
LOUIS ASTOR.