novellk Chapter 81 Sofia
Chapter 81 Sofia
The afternoon at the Falconet estate was stiflingly quiet, save for the rustling of fallen leaves in the courtyard as they brushed against the carved railings.
Cobbler walked into Carmine's office on the carpet, his shoes crunching over shards of glass left in the cracks of the floor, the faint cracking sound muffled by the heavy door.
He closed the door behind him, his fingertips lingering on the cold brass doorknob before turning and walking toward the mahogany desk that symbolized power.
He had reorganized the documents in his desk drawer, with the confidential letters between Carmine and politicians stacked on top.
The leather ledger was pasted against the inside of the drawer, its edges rubbing against the wood to leave faint marks.
These were, of course, just copies. He enjoyed the feeling of having great power, especially being in charge of the family he had fought for his entire life.
Cobo pulled out a chair and sat down, tapping his fingertips on the table.
Sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the blinds, casting interlaced stripes of light and shadow on the document.
The densely packed words seemed to come alive, unfolding the threads of Gotham's power structure before his eyes.
He pulled a lighter from his inner pocket, and the flame shot up, illuminating his slightly lowered eyelashes, but he didn't dare to actually get close to the documents.
This is his bargaining chip, which he holds by the throat of Gotham, and he cannot afford to lose it.
The sound of high heels tapping on the floor came from the end of the corridor, unhurried yet penetrating, breaking the silence of the room.
Cobb quickly closed the drawer, turned the lock, and put the lighter back in his pocket.
Because the movement was too fast, the metal casing caused a slight pain in my side.
He had just straightened up when the door was pushed open, and a cold breeze carrying the scent of disinfectant mixed with perfume rushed in.
Sofia stood at the door, her plain black dress trailing down to her ankles.
The skirt had no extra pleats, which made her face appear even whiter than the wall paint.
She had just been discharged from Arkham Hospital. Her cheekbones were sunken, but her hair was neatly combed, with the ends hanging down behind her shoulders, perfectly still.
Those eyes were like a frozen lake in the depths of winter, devoid of any warmth, staring straight at Copeport's face, making the air in the room suddenly feel colder.
Where is Alberto?
Her voice was soft, yet it carried a heavy sense of pressure.
Sofia took two steps forward, her high heels clicking on the floor, each sound like a tap on the heart.
Cobbler leaned back in his chair, his fingers tracing the carvings on the edge of the table, deliberately slowing his breathing so the other person wouldn't notice his nervousness.
"He may have gone out to clear his head. Mr. Carmine is dead, and he may be in a bad mood."
Copeport's voice was steady as he met Sofia's gaze without flinching.
"Ever since Mr. Carmine's incident, he has been emotionally unstable and often goes out alone."
"To relax?"
Sofia scoffed, her laughter filled with sarcasm.
She walked to the desk, lightly touched the surface with her fingertips, and looked down at Copeport.
Despite her neatly trimmed nails, she left a few faint scratches on the mahogany table.
"His car is still in the garage, his coat is hanging in the cloakroom, and even his usual whiskey glass is still on the coffee table."
Tell me, where can he go to clear his head?
She leaned down, looking down at Cobbot, the smell of disinfectant in her breath growing stronger.
"You were here that night, just before Alberto disappeared."
This wasn't a question, but a statement of fact, delivered with certainty, as if she had been there that day.
In fact, that's impossible. If this woman really knew something, she wouldn't be the way she is now.
Having figured this out, Copport's fingertips curled slightly.
Her fingernails dug into her palms, but her face remained calm.
"I'm just here to sort through Mr. Carmine's belongings; after all, these things need a proper place."
"Proper arrangements?"
Sofia straightened up, her gaze sweeping over the locked drawer before settling back on Coppot's slightly hunched back, her disdain undisguised.
"Cotterpad, do you think you can hide your little schemes from anyone?"
She took a step forward, almost touching Copperfield, and lowered her voice, but spoke clearly.
"What the Falcone family owns is none of your business as an outsider. Stop with your filthy thoughts and get out of Gotham."
Cobblestone slowly stood up, deliberately straightening his back, but he was still a head shorter than Sofia.
He looked at the woman in front of him who had just come out of the mental hospital, and his back tensed up involuntarily—he knew Sophia's methods all too well.
Carmine's ruthlessness is hidden on the surface, while Alberto's irritability manifests in his words and actions.
Sofia's malice was hidden in her seemingly empty eyes and in every calm breath.
She knew better than the dead father and son how to deliver a fatal blow.
He didn't argue, but simply stepped aside to walk past Sofia and steadily walked towards the door.
As they brushed past each other, Sofia suddenly raised her hand, her fingertips brushing against his cheek, the cold touch like a snake's tongue.
Coppert's body stiffened almost imperceptibly, but he didn't stop and walked straight out of the office.
...
Iceberg Club, Copeport's room on the third floor.
The room wasn't big, it was even a bit small, especially considering Copport's current status.
This small room has no windows and is about 30 square meters.
The room contained only a single bed, a wardrobe, and an old tin box in the corner.
—That was what he brought from the slums, containing all his important belongings.
He locked the door behind him and slowly sat down on the bed.
He ran his hands through his hair, rubbing his temples vigorously with his fingertips.
The dagger inside his boot was digging painfully into his ankle; it was a weapon he always carried with him, but now it made him feel exceptionally powerless.
Leaving Gotham? He was unwilling.
After years of planning, he went from being a clown who was beaten and scolded at will to infiltrating the Falcone family.
From gaining control of the political world to taking every step he took, it was all stained with blood and mud. How could he give up when he was only one step away from the top?
If he stayed, he would have to confront Sophia head-on. That woman was a complete madwoman, and he really didn't have any good solutions when dealing with a madwoman.
In fact, Carmine had already dealt with Sofia while he was still alive.
Through Carmine, this woman was sent to Arkham.
What Kobot couldn't understand was why this woman had been discharged from the hospital; this shouldn't have happened.
Just as Copport was having a headache, a soft knock sounded on the door.
The knocking was exactly three times, neither too loud nor too soft, with a familiar rhythm.
Cobbard immediately straightened up, wiped his face, and strode to the door.
After confirming that nothing was wrong with her, she smiled and opened the door.
Frances stood outside the door, wearing a faded gray cotton dress.
She held a glass of hot milk in her hand, with fine steam rising from the glass.
Her hair was already gray, tied in a simple bun.
Despite his slightly hunched back, he still stood up straight.
Her eyes were incredibly bright, as if she could see right through Copeport's inner struggles.
"Coport".
She called her son gently, walked slowly into the room, and placed the milk on the bedside table.
"What's wrong? You seemed a little off when you came back."
Cobb closed the door without saying a word, but walked to the metal box and slowly closed the lid.
"Frances, what do you think about us leaving Gotham?"
His mother's arrival brought Copport to his senses; if Frances were to die, his position as mayor of Gotham would be meaningless.