The blood came first.
Sophie Myers stood frozen, her hands trembling as she stared down at the deep crimson pooling around her feet. The silk of her pale dress clung to her thighs, stained and ruined. She blinked, trying to focus, but the sounds of the party around her, the laughter, the music, and the clinking of champagne glassesâwere all drowned out by the thundering of her heart. No. Her stomach twisted violently, a sharp pain shooting through her body. She sucked in a breath, barely able to stand. Her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the marble table beside her, nails scraping against the surface. âEdward.â Her voice was small, breaking under the weight of her panic. She found him a few steps away, his back to her, perfectly poised with his colleagues. âEdward, pleaseâŚâ Her husband turned slowly, a glass of whiskey balanced between his fingers. His expression hardened the moment his gaze met hers, a flicker of irritation at the interruption, as though she were a child tugging at his sleeve. âWhat is it, Sophie?â he asked. His voice was low, flat, laced with impatience. âIâm bleeding,â she whispered, her words trembling on her lips. âSomethingâs wrong.â Edwardâs brows furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he regarded her for a moment. Then he sighed. A heavy, exasperated sound. âGo to the bathroom. Fix yourself up.â Her knees buckled. She reached for him, desperate for support, but he stepped back. âEdwardââ âFor Godâs sake, Sophie, not here.â It happened all at once. The sharp, searing pain surged through her abdomen, forcing the air from her lungs. The edges of her vision darkened as her body crumbled, the floor rushing up to meet her. The last thing she saw before everything went black was Edwardâs polished shoes stepping out of her way. âĄâĄâĄ The first thing Sophie noticed when she woke was the cold. The sterile smell of antiseptic burned her nose, and her body felt unnaturally heavy, pinned to the thin hospital bed. Her head throbbed. She tried to lift her arms, but they felt like lead. âMrs. Flynn?â A nurse hovered beside her, adjusting the IV drip. Her expression was gentle, but her eyes were full of pity. Sophie opened her mouth to speak, but her voice came out hoarse. âWhatâŚâ Her throat burned. âWhat happened?â The nurse hesitated. âYouâve had a miscarriage, maâam.â Miscarriage. The word cut through Sophie like a blade, it was sharp and merciless. Her hand instinctively touched her stomach, fingers pressing against the flatness beneath the hospital gown. Gone. She closed her eyes as tears burned behind her lids. It was all too much, the pain, the emptiness, the silence pressing down on her. âYouâre awake.â The voice was cold and indifferent. Sophieâs eyes fluttered open. Edward stood at the foot of the bed, dressed impeccably in his tailored suit. He looked out of place in the harsh hospital light, too perfect, too composed. Her lips parted, but no words came. Edwardâs gaze flickered to the nurse. âLeave us.â The woman gave Sophie one last glance before slipping out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. âYou didnât have to come,â Sophie managed, her voice sounding weak. Edward raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of amusement in his expression. âDonât flatter yourself, Sophie. I needed to see you awake.â She frowned, confusion clouding her features. âWhy?â Edward didnât answer right away. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a file. He placed it on the small tray table beside her bed with a dull thud. âWhat is that?â âDivorce papers,â Edward said. The words hung in the air like smoke, choking her. Sophie stared at the folder, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. âDivorce?â Her voice trembled. âEdward, you canât be serious. Not⌠not now.â Edwardâs expression didnât change. If anything, his gaze grew colder. âIâve been serious for a while, Sophie. I wanted this before the party, but I waited. Now thereâs no reason to delay.â âNo reason?â Her voice cracked, tears pooling in her eyes. âI just lost our child, Edward.â âAnd Iâm sorry for that,â he replied, though his tone said otherwise. âBut this has nothing to do with it. Itâs over, Sophie. Itâs been over for a long time.â Sophie stared at him, searching his face for something, regret, sadness, anything. But Edward Flynn was a man carved from stone. The husband she once loved, the man who had once whispered promises into her ear, was nowhere to be found. âWhy now?â she whispered. Edward sighed, glancing at his watch. âIâm not here to argue. Just sign the papers, Sophie.â He pushed the file closer to her, the pen resting neatly on top. Sophieâs hands shook as she reached for it, her body still weak from everything sheâd lost. The pain in her chest was unbearable, but not a single tear fell. She wouldnât cry in front of him. Not now. Edward watched her, clearly expecting resistance. He was ready for a fight, ready for her to beg, to plead. But she didnât. Sophie picked up the pen, steadying her grip. âWhat happens to me after this?â she asked softly, not looking at him. Edwardâs voice was cold. âThatâs not my concern.â Her heart splintered, but her face remained blank. Without another word, she pressed the pen to the paper and signed her name, once, then again. The scratching of the pen against the paper was the only sound in the room. When she finished, she set the pen down and pushed the file back toward him. Edward blinked, clearly surprised. He hadnât expected her to let go so easily. âItâs done,â she said quietly, her voice was empty. He stared at her for a moment, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. For the briefest of seconds, Sophie thought she saw regret. But it was gone just as quickly. Edward picked up the file, tucking it neatly under his arm. âIâll have someone collect the rest of your things from the house.â He turned and walked toward the door, his polished shoes clicking against the hospital floor. At the threshold, he paused, looking back at her. âTake care of yourself, Sophie.â The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Sophie alone in the cold, sterile room. She lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling as silence filled the space around her. She wasnât Edward Flynnâs wife anymore. Sophie Myers, the woman who once wore his name was now just another divorcee. The tears came quietly, trailing down her cheeks, but she didnât sob. She let them fall until there was nothing left. And when the tears dried, something else settled deep inside her chest, something cold and unbreakable. It was over. But Sophie wasnât.The week after, the hospital felt like a blur.Sophie Myers moved through the days on autopilot, eating when the nurses reminded her, staring at the beige walls of her hospital room, and ignoring the pity in the doctorâs eyes when he checked on her recovery. Her body was healing, but her mind wasnât.Edward hadnât returned after the divorce papers. No calls, no messages, not even an assistant to deliver the rest of her belongings.On the eighth day, Sophie stood by the window, the hospital gown hanging loose on her shoulders as sunlight poured in. Enough was enough. If Edward wouldnât keep his end of the deal, sheâd handle it herself.âĄâĄâĄWhen Sophie arrived at the mansion, it felt like walking into a hollow memory lane.The Flynn estate was as grand as ever, with arched gates, pristine lawns, the long driveway she used to love. But something was off.Too quiet.Her heels clicked against the marble floors as she entered, carrying the faint echo of an empty house. There were no servant
Sophie sat on the hard cot in her cell, staring at the peeling paint on the grey walls. Two days. Forty-eight hours of nothing but silence, stale food, and the cold realization that no one was coming for her.The police had given her no lawyer, no phone call. Theyâd left her there like a criminal without rights without a voice. When the metal door creaked open on the third morning, she didnât even look up.âYouâre allowed to see a lawyer now,â the officer said flatly.Sophieâs head snapped up. âFinally,â she muttered under her breath as she stood, her legs stiff from sitting too long.The interrogation room was colder this time, Sophie sat across from a rotating series of lawyers, faces that looked her over once, their expressions were guarded, and left within minutes.The excuses were endless. âItâs a conflict of interest.â âI canât take on a case of this magnitude.â âI have other commitments.âBut she knew the truth. None of them wanted to cross Edward Flynn, not even in death. His
Lucas stepped into the massive office of Drake Hazelwood. The room was dim, save for the streaks of sunlight slashing through the tall windows, painting sharp, golden lines across the mahogany desk and leather chairs. Everything in here spoke of wealth, power, and the silent danger Drake exuded because Drake Hazelwood didnât do anything unless it benefitted him.And Lucas knew that.Drake sat behind his desk, leaned back in a leather chair, a glass of dark amber whiskey swirling lazily in his hand. He didnât bother to look up as Lucas entered, his eyes fixed on the city skyline outside the window.âYouâre late,â Drake muttered, his voice smooth and low, as if he couldnât be bothered to care.Lucas clenched his fists to his sides, fighting back the irritation clawing its way up. âYou knew Iâd come.âFinally, Drake looked at him. His gaze was sharpâtoo sharp. âOf course you came. You wouldnât be here otherwise.âLucas ignored the smug tone and cut straight to the point. âI need you to f
Sophie barely slept that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the cold, unreadable expression on Drakeâs face as he told her she was married to him. Married. To him. The words echoed in her mind, but no matter how many times she repeated them, it didnât make any sense.What had she signed? She kept trying to remember the papers sheâd scrawled her name on, but the memory was fuzzy. Had she missed the marriage certificate buried in the stack of documents? No, she hadnât seen it. It was a trap, a calculated move by Drake, and now she was tangled in a web of his making.She sat up in her small apartment, staring at the gray morning light spilling through the window. Her phone buzzed on the table, and she grabbed it, hoping for some kind of reprieve from the nightmare. It was an unfamiliar number, but Sophie didnât hesitate before answering."Hello?""Mrs. Hazelwood," came Drakeâs voice, smooth and chilling as ever. "I need you to meet me at my office today. Itâs time to finalize
Sophie woke up to the blinding light streaming through the window. It felt like sheâd only just closed her eyes, but the day was already here. A new day in the hell that Drake had trapped her in.Her phone buzzed. A message from him. Be ready in an hour. We have somewhere to be.Sophie wanted to throw the phone across the room. But she didnât. She knew better than to act out now. If she was going to survive this, she needed to keep her cool.She threw on a dress, something simple, nothing too flashy. She didnât want to give him any reason to look at her more than necessary. But deep down, she knew it wouldnât matter. He looked at her like she was a puzzle to be solvedâa toy to be played with.When she walked into the living room, Drake was already waiting, his usual cold expression plastered on his face. He stood by the door, hands in his pockets, looking like a goddamn statue. His gaze met hers, and for a split second, something flickered in his eyes. But then it was gone, replaced w
Drakeâs body sagged against Sophie as they stumbled through the front door. His weight was unbearable, nearly sending her to the ground more than once, but she clenched her teeth and pushed forward. She wasnât sure what scared her moreâseeing him collapse or the raw weakness sheâd seen in his eyes just before he did.She lowered him onto the bed, her arms trembling from the effort. He looked like a shadow of himself, pale, damp, and utterly defeated. Drake Hazelwood, the man who never flinched, never broke, was now lying there like a man on the edge of something terrifying.âDrake.â Her voice was steady, even though she didnât feel it. âWhatâs wrong? What happened?âHis eyes flickered open, just barely. The usual sharpness was gone, replaced with something softer, something that tugged at her chest. âNothing,â he croaked, his voice so quiet she had to strain to hear it.âDonât give me that,â she snapped, brushing the damp strands of hair from his forehead. âYou donât just collapse in
Sophie stirred at the faint sound of his voice, low and raspy. She blinked against the morning light spilling through the curtains, her eyes landing on Drake as he shifted restlessly on the bed."AltheaâŚ" he muttered, his voice cracking like it carried the weight of something unspeakable.Sophie frowned, inching closer. âDrake?âHe didnât respond, his brow furrowing deeply as he whispered the name again. Althea.Her chest tightened. Who was Althea? The name meant nothing to her, yet the way he said itâit was almost desperate.She reached out, her hand hovering just above his shoulder before gently pressing against it. âDrake, itâs me. Sophie.âHis eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused. For a moment, it was as though he didnât recognize her. Then his gaze softened, and the corners of his mouth twitched in something like relief.âSophie,â he rasped, his voice barely audible.âYeah,â she murmured, trying to ignore the knot forming in her stomach. âItâs me. Youâre burning up.âHer han
Sophie heard the faint creak of the bathroom door and turned to see Drake emerging, his hair damp and pushed back, droplets of water clinging to his skin. He looked refreshed, like a man who had reclaimed control after losing it entirely. But the moment their eyes met, she knew something was different.Gone was the faint vulnerability she had glimpsed last night. His expression was unreadable, his eyes cold and distant.âFeeling better?â she asked hesitantly, her voice softer than she intended.âFine,â he replied curtly, moving past her without a second glance.The distance in his tone caught her off guard. She had spent the entire night nursing him back to health, watching over him when he was at his weakest. Now, it was as though none of it had ever happened.Sophie forced herself to breathe, brushing off the unease creeping into her chest. Itâs just the fever, she told herself. Heâs probably still recovering.âI made breakfast,â she said, trying to bridge the gap forming between th
The silence between them was stretching again, heavy like fog, thick enough to choke on if you werenât careful, and Sophie didnât know what scared her more, the fact that Drake looked like he was ready to talk, or the fact that it had taken this long for him to decide she deserved the truth.They sat by the fire that night, no food, no glasses of wine, no soft music humming in the background like the last time, just them and the low crackle of burning wood, and for once, no one was pretending things were fine.Drake looked tired, more than tired, he looked worn thin at the edges like a photograph that had been touched too many times, and his fingers were twitching slightly, as if there were words trapped under his skin trying to claw their way out.âIâve been finding out more than I should,â he said finally, voice low, rough, not from anger but from the weight of everything he hadnât saidâand Sophie didnât interrupt, just waited, because she knew the dam was about to break.âEverythin
Sophie was absolutely restless She lay in the massive bed that never quite felt like hers, she tangled in sheets that were too smooth, and too cold. The letters from Catherine Vale played on a loop in her mind, whispering warnings she couldnât decipher. A name she didnât recognize. A woman she supposedly didnât know. But the familiarity in Miriamâs eyes haunted her, and the unease in Drakeâs silence only made it worse.She turned to her side, her eyes drifting toward the window where the moon spilled silver across the carpet. The mansion was quietâtoo quiet. Not even the wind dared stir. It was the kind of silence that pressed in from all sides, the kind that made secrets feel like they were breathing just beneath the surface.Her fingers brushed over the edge of her pillow, and she felt it, the softest crunch of paper. She blinked, sitting up slowly. There, tucked beneath the pillowcase, was a folded piece of paper.Her heart thumped as she opened it.âI noticed you didnât eat much
Sophie couldnât shake the unsettling feeling as she sat in the living room, staring at the photograph of Miriam that still rested on the coffee table. The woman in the picture was so beautiful, so elegant, yet there was something deeply familiar about her. Sophie couldnât deny the growing realization that they looked alike, no, they almost looked like the same person. She rubbed her temples, trying to push the thought away, but it lingered, gnawing at her like a persistent itch.Her breath caught as her mind replayed Drakeâs vague answer to her earlier question. âDid Miriam live here?â she had asked, unable to suppress the curiosity bubbling inside her.âYes,â was all he had said.But then she had pressed him further, and he refused to elaborate. âWhere did she stay?â Sophie had asked, her voice quiet yet insistent.Drakeâs eyes had briefly avoided hers, and then heâd given an answer that didnât make sense. âIâll be in the office. Weâll talk later.âThat was all heâd offered before re
Sophie was going through the black box again when she found the an old photograph, It was tucked beneath a bundle of letters, almost like it didnât want to be seen. But when her fingers brushed it, it slipped free and landed face-up in her lap. She felt the breath left her lungs.The woman in the picture was smiling wide and so bright , like the world was kind. Her eyes held something soft and something so familiar but Sophie couldnât grasp whatever it was. She wore a pale yellow dress, and the wind had caught the hem, making it lift slightly and behind her, the sunlight spilled across a garden Sophie didnât recognize.She stared at it with mixed emotions because the woman looked exactly like her. Not a little and definitely not a maybe. The woman looked like a replica of her. With the same eyes, the same jawline and even the same way her lips tilted slightly to the left when she smiled, the curve of her neck looked identical as well.Her body went still and she kept looking at the p
The morning light crept in slowly, but Sophie was already awake, sitting by the window, legs pulled up to her chest, eyes far away. She hadnât said much after watching the video the night before, just went quiet, her thoughts clearly louder than anything else. Drake had stayed, close enough to make sure she was okay, far enough not to smother her.She turned her head slightly when he walked in, fresh from a shower, towel around his neck, shirt damp near the collar.âWeâre going somewhere,â he said.Her voice was hoarse. âWhere?âHe paused, met her eyes. âWhere it all started.âAnd for a moment, she didnât even need him to say itâshe already knew.Edwardâs mansion.Her heart sank a little. That place used to be her entire world. Not just brick and glass and luxury, but memories, laughter, screams behind closed doors, and love tooâyes, love that somehow still lingered in the echoes of those walls. It had been home. It had been heartbreak. And Edward⌠Edward had once loved her so deeply,
The screen flickered to life, the shaky camera showing Edwardâs study dimly lit, the light from the desk lamp casting long shadows on the walls, Edward looked like he hadnât slept in days, his eyes were bloodshot, there was sweat on his forehead, and his hands trembled as he reached forward and adjusted the camera.âIf youâre watching this,â his voice cracked, barely steady, âthen Iâm probably already dead⌠or missing.âSophie froze, her breath caught in her throat, Drake moved closer behind her, staring over her shoulder, both their eyes glued to the screen, not a single sound passed between them except the buzz of electricity and Edwardâs shaking voice.âI need you to know⌠I was never the real target,â Edward said, glancing behind him like someone might burst in any second, âthey made me believe I had something they wanted, but thisâthis is bigger than me, Sophie, bigger than anything I thought I was involved in.âHer heart thumped against her chest like it wanted to escape, she tu
Being in this world alone sucks, but being in this world around people who think youâre a fool is the worst.Sophie was on the verge of insanity, her mind was going in circles, and she trying to make sense of everything in her life. First, there was Lucas, then, definitely not Drake, but he was the only hope she had left, so she couldnât quite count him out.She huffed out a resolute sigh and walked into his bedroom, finding him sitting and working on his laptop.She sat down next to him.âDrake?â she called softly.He replied with a distracted hum, his eyes still glued to the screen.âCould you keep the laptop aside, please?â she muttered, her tone mockingly sweet.He nodded, closed the laptop, and turned fully to her.Being in this world alone sucks, but being in this world surrounded by people who think youâre a fool? Thatâs worse.Sophie was on the verge of insanity. Her mind kept going in circles, trying to make sense of everything happening in her life. First, there was Lucas. A
The mansion felt suffocating. Sophie had spent hours trying to find somethingâanythingâthat could tell her where Lucas had gone. But the security system was useless. The footage was gone, wiped clean like the night had never happened. Whoever had taken Lucas had planned this too well. She tried again, typing commands into the security systemâs console, digging through the data logs. Nothing. The last recorded footage had been from the previous evening. After that? Blackness. Drake was leaning against the wall, watching her with his usual unreadable expression. âYouâre wasting your time.â Sophie clenched her jaw. âSo we just do nothing?â Drake exhaled through his nose. âThere are other ways to find him.â She turned in her chair. âLike what?â Drake didnât answer. Instead, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and swore under his breath. Without a word, he walked out of the room. Sophie let out a frustrated sigh. She knew one thingâDrake was kee
The mansion felt wrong. Sophie had spent enough time there to recognize the subtle shifts in the air, the way silence could stretch too thin, the way emptiness could settle in like a living thing. But this? This was different. She knew it the second she stepped into Lucasâs room. The bed was empty. The blankets had been tossed aside, the pillows slightly dented, as if someone had left in a hurry. The lamp beside the bed was still on, casting weak light across the dark wooden floors. Sophieâs pulse spiked. âLucas?â Silence. She moved deeper into the room, scanning for anythingâany sign of where he might have gone. The window was shut. The closet door was slightly ajar, clothes hanging haphazardly. His shoes were still there. But his jacket? Gone. A sick feeling twisted in her gut. Lucas had barely been able to sit up on his own earlier. There was no way in hell he could have justâwalked out. Not without help. Or not without being forced. Sophieâs st