Chapter 5

Sophia woke in a hospital bed—cleaner, quieter—and reached for her phone.

"Can you help me file for divorce?" she asked.

A pause—then a sound trying hard not to be laughter.

"Now you ask me?" Low, amused. "You could have called me ages ago, Sophia."

"If you're not willing—"

"Don't you dare hang up," Ethan Harlow said immediately. "I'll do whatever you need. Anything." A beat. "Can you come soon? I miss you."

She hung up.

Lucian appeared in the doorway. He crossed the room and took the phone from her hand.

"Are you texting that assistant again?"

"Is there something you needed?"

He sat. Showed her his phone screen—a message from Stella, wanting to take Sophia out as a thank-you for the earthquake. His expression suggested he considered this generous.

"No," Sophia said.

He stood and moved toward her—and Sophia was on her feet, arms crossed in front of her chest, three feet of space between them, before she registered she'd moved.

They both froze.

Lucian's hands came up, empty. His face had gone pale—not with anger. With something else.

"I wasn't going to—"

He stopped. Looked at his own hands. Then walked out. The door closed harder than he intended.

Sophia sat on the edge of the bed.

She thought about a three-year-old girl with the habit of reaching up to hold Sophia's hand in the garden—gripping her fingers like she was the most important thing in the world. She had been.

Lucian had taken her away one morning, promising she would be safe, that Stella loved children.

Sophia had believed him.

She stopped believing him the night she stood outside a closed door and heard Stella's voice carrying clearly through the gap:

"That was your first baby with Sophia. I didn't mean for it to happen—she was right at the edge of the pool—"

And Lucian's voice, lower, but not low enough:

"It's done. What's done is done. It's not worth falling apart over one child."

Sophia had walked back to her room and sat on her bed.

Outside the window now, blue fireworks lit the city. A drone display stretched across the skyline. Every billboard in Hartfield carried the same image: Lucian Drake, hand outstretched, diamonds and champagne, and beneath it the words:

"Stella—marry me."

The comments were floods of congratulations. Everyone, it seemed, was relieved for him. So glad he'd finally found the right person. So glad to see him happy at last.

Sophia closed the page.

She opened the airline app and bought a one-way ticket.

She was about to put her phone in her bag when it rang. She looked at the screen. Lucian.

She answered because she assumed he needed something for Stella.