CHAPTER TWO.

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 doctor’s eyes when he checked on her recovery. Her body was healing, but her mind wasn’t.

Edward hadn’t 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 wouldn’t keep his end of the deal, she’d handle it herself.

♡♡♡

When 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 servants bustling around, no smell of fresh coffee in the air.

“Hello?” Her voice carried through the empty hall. No response.

She moved room to room, gathering her things methodically. Clothes, jewellery, books, things that once belonged to a happy wife. It felt surreal, folding parts of her life into neat boxes. She paused in the master bedroom, where their wedding photo still sat on the bedside table.

Her throat tightened as she picked it up. Edward’s smile that was once pure and beautiful looked back at her. Her fingers hovered over the glass before she dropped the frame into a box with a thud.

She moved faster after that, clearing drawers and packing bags. At some point, she found herself standing in Edward’s study, staring at his heavy oak desk. It had been his sanctuary, a place she wasn’t allowed to touch. Now, it felt abandoned, too.

“Where is he?” she whispered to no one, her voice small.

She shook the thought off, pushing it away with the memories she didn’t want. Within two hours, Sophie was gone. She didn’t look back.

The apartment was small, nothing like the mansion she had shared with Edward, but it was hers. Sophie unpacked in silence, setting up her space as best she could.

But no amount of decorating could distract her from the hollowness inside her.

It hit her late at night, lying on the new bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling. Edward was gone. The life she’d built around him, years of marriage, moments of compromise, pain, and hope was gone, too.

And despite everything, she still missed him.

“Pathetic,” she muttered to herself, turning over.

But the grief didn’t care. It clawed at her chest, stealing her sleep and choking her in the silence.

♡♡♡

By the third day, Sophie couldn’t stand the emptiness of her apartment anymore.

She dressed in her sleekest black dress, painted on a red lip, and went out. She wasn’t sure where she was going until she arrived at the club. A place she hadn’t visited in years. a part of her past she’d left behind when she married Edward.

Inside, the music thumped against her skin, it was loud and heavy. She welcomed it.

Sophie ordered a drink and sat at the bar, watching people dance, laugh, and lose themselves under the flashing lights. She envied them. their freedom, their carelessness.

One drink turned into two. Then three.

The alcohol blurred the sharp edges of her thoughts, numbing her just enough to breathe. But even as she tried to lose herself in the haze, something felt off.

Her phone buzzed with a message she ignored. A man sat next to her, trying to strike up a conversation she didn’t bother to hear.

And then, chaos.

Bright beams of flashlights cut through the crowd as shouts echoed over the music. “Everybody stay where you are!”

The music screeched to a stop. Sophie turned toward the entrance as men in uniforms flooded the room. it was the police.

The crowd broke into panicked murmurs, people holding up their hands or shoving toward the exits. A hand gripped Sophie’s arm.

“Miss Myers?”

She blinked up at the officer. “What’s happening?”

“You’re coming with us.”

“What? No, I—”

“You’re under arrest.”

The words struck her like a punch to the gut. Sophie staggered, the room spinning around her as cuffs clicked tightly around her wrists.

“Arrest? For what?”

The officer didn’t answer. He pulled her through the stunned crowd, out into the night where red and blue lights bathed the street.

Sophie tried to keep up, tried to ask questions, but nothing made sense. She was shoved into the back of a police car, the door slamming shut behind her.

The ride to the station felt endless. Sophie’s head swam as fear wrapped itself around her like a vice. When they finally stopped, she was escorted into a cold interrogation room. The cuffs came off, but her hands still shook.

She sat at the table, staring at her reflection in the one-way glass. Her makeup was smudged, her eyes wide and confused.

Why am I here?

The door opened, and a detective walked in—a man with greying hair and a tired face. He dropped a file onto the table and looked at her, his gaze unreadable.

“Sophie Myers?”

“Yes.” Her voice cracked. “Why am I here? What’s going on?”

The detective sat down across from her. “Do you know where your husband is?”

Sophie frowned. “Edward? I—I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since…”

The words caught in her throat. Since she signed the divorce papers. Since she went back to the mansion and found it empty.

“You haven’t seen him?” the detective repeated, studying her face.

“No,” she whispered. “What happened?”

The detective opened the file, flipping it around so she could see the contents. A photograph stared up at her. It was Edward—his face pale, eyes closed, a dark wound staining his shirt.

Sophie recoiled, her breath catching. “What… no. What is this?”

“Edward Flynn was found dead two days ago,” the detective said slowly. “And you, Mrs. Myers, are our prime suspect.”

The room tilted. Sophie gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. “Dead?”

The detective didn’t blink. “You were seen at his house the day he died.”

Her mind spun. The empty mansion. The silence. “No, I didn’t— I didn’t kill him! I packed my things. I—”

He held up a hand. “Your fingerprints were found on several items in the study. And until we figure this out, you’re staying in custody.”

Sophie stared at him, numbness flooding her veins.

Edward was dead.

She was being accused of his murder.

And for the first time, it clicked.

The empty house. The silence when she asked about Edward.

Someone had set her up.

But who?

Before she could speak, the detective stood and left the room, leaving Sophie alone in the cold, sterile space. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she sank back into the chair, the walls closing in on her.

Her mind replayed everything—the party, the hospital, the mansion. Edward’s cold words. His absence.

And then, a chilling thought crept in.

Was Edward already dead when I was there?