The door to Vence's shop opened and in walked Sophia Casinni, wife to one of the toughest men in organized crime. In a world where so many perfectly sculpted beauties, with enhanced curves, and flawless artificial tans, Sophia was the rarest of birds. A natural beauty. Her sculpted, trim physique came from hours of yoga, Pilates, and swimming. Her full, lush D-cup breasts bounced in a way that even the best of artificial structures couldn't quite achieve. Her long lean legs gave rise to a 5'8" figure that needed no enhancement. The waves of luxurious dark hair that spilled down her shoulders had been hers since birth, and the deep, chocolate brown eyes that looked out from the olive complexion of her face sparkled with a light of intelligence that few expected.
Her expensive heels clicked on the bare concrete of Vence's facility as she strode confidently forward, an elegant brief case carried in one hand, and her designer purse in the other. "So," she said, her voice betraying the slight accent of her native italy. "This is the girl that I'm going to become. She's very.... American." With a resigned sigh, Sophia set the brief case on the table next to Amy's unconscious form, opening it to show Vence the neatly folded stacks of cash. "It's all there. $500,000. You can count it, if you'd like."
"No, no, that's fine," Vence said, closing the case and tucking it away. Counting Tom Casinni's money in a transaction like this would have been insulting to say the least, and while he didn't think the man himself would ever get work of it, it paid to be cautious. "Are you ready?" Vence asked instead.
"No. I'm not," Sophia said sadly as she looked down at the blond girl. "When this is done, no one will be able to tell that I wasn't always her, right? I'll look like her, sound like her...."
"Yes, exactly. For all intents and purposes, the world will think you're Amy Sutton. If you need a few moments...."
"No," she said with a resigned sigh. "Let's get this over with."