All Chapters of The DON's Princess: Chapter 21 - Chapter 25

Sophia's Point of View: I watched as John and his family carried their boxes out of the house, yet the satisfaction I had expected to feel never came. My gaze drifted to Rose, and a hint of sadness tightened my chest. After my mother’s death, she had been like a mother to me. And just like me, she had suffered under the Smiths’ cruelty. "Wait!" I called out, suddenly uneasy at the thought of Rose being out on the streets. I folded my arms over my chest, forcing indifference into my tone. "I might consider letting you all stay in the guest quarters—if you beg." John turned, his face twisting with disdain. "Beg you?" he spat. "Never." His voice dripped with pride. I glanced briefly at Rose. She was looking at Maxwell as though hoping he would say something, but he didn't, and she stayed quiet. She was always a loyal wife. "Suit yourself," I said with a shrug, watching them leave. I knew John hated handling cash—so much so that they probably didn’t have enough on them to even p

Sophia's point of view; "Follow me. I'll show you to your rooms," I instructed, gesturing for John to get to his feet. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before rising. Rose followed close behind as I led them down the hall. The room I chose for John was one I knew all too well. My old room. The one Maxwell Smith had forced me to stay in. It was tiny, damp, and wedged directly under the staircase. I had spent countless nights staring at the low ceiling, my body aching from exhaustion, yet unable to sleep because of the constant creaking above me—the heavy stomping of feet, reminding me of my place beneath them. The only nights I ever found peace were when Maxwell was away. Rose would let me sneak into her room, where the mattress was soft, and the silence didn't suffocate me. "Here," I said, pushing the door open. A gust of dust rushed out, thick and stale, forcing all of us to cough. The air inside reeked of mildew, and the mold that had once been a small patch on the w

Sophia’s Point of View: I tossed and turned all night. Despite the room’s complete renovation, I couldn't sleep. For the first time since the incident, the nightmares returned—vivid, relentless, and cruelly familiar. I was back on that cold bench, chains biting into my wrists. The strange man loomed over me, his shadow stretching across the dimly lit room. Beside him stood Ava and John, their laughter slicing through the suffocating silence, their eyes gleaming with twisted delight at my helplessness. And then there was William—my hero. He appeared, just like before, ready to save me. But just as his hand reached for mine, a deafening gunshot tore through the air. I watched, horror twisting in my gut, as he crumpled to the ground. His body lay still, lifeless. And that was when I felt the most fear—not when I was tied up, not even when I thought I was going to die. It was the sight of William’s body on the floor that truly broke me. I woke up gasping, sweat clinging to my