Chapter 4

Thunder jolted Sophia awake. Adrian’s side of the bed was empty.

She had always been terrified of storms. Adrian used to stay with her every time. Even if he was thousands of miles away on business, he would fly home overnight just to hold her, then leave again before dawn.

But tonight there was only the rumble outside, and a thin, ghostlike sound bleeding through the wall — a woman's stifled whimper, the soft, rhythmic creak of furniture against the floor.

She forced herself out of bed and pushed open the door of the guest room across the hall.

Two figures tangled together. Bella’s moans were cut short by a hand over her mouth. Adrian’s low voice: “Don’t wake my wife.”

Outside, lightning split the sky. Bella flinched.

"Easy," Adrian murmured. "I've got you."

The same gentleness. The same patient hands. Just aimed at someone else now.

Sophia walked back to her own bed and lay down. Tears slid into her hair as the thunder rolled. She stared at the ceiling until the storm passed and the gray of dawn began to seep through the curtains.

She did not close her eyes once.

—

At dawn, the kitchen came alive. Adrian stood at the stove in an apron, smiling. “Everyone else is already at work, lazy girl. You just woke up?”

Only then did Sophia notice the figure at the dining table. Bella sat behind a laptop, fingers tapping efficiently at the keys.

“Good morning, Mrs. Sterling,” Bella said. “I’m here to coordinate work with Mr. Sterling.”

Sophia did not want this woman anywhere near them today. Not on the day she planned to bury her child.

"Get her out of my house," she said quietly.

Bella's eyes welled up at once.

For the first time in their marriage, Adrian did not take Sophia's side. He frowned.

“Sophia, Bella is here for work. She actually contributes. You stay at home all day. Can’t you be reasonable?”

So that was what he truly thought of her.

He softened immediately. "I'm sorry. Forget it. Didn't you say you had somewhere you wanted to go today? Let's not waste the morning."

—

The GPS led them to Greenhill Cemetery. Bella followed in five‑inch heels.

They climbed the stone steps. Bella’s eyes flickered with malice. She reached out, grabbed Sophia’s arm, and yanked backward.

“Ah!”

“Look out!”

Adrian’s hand shot past Sophia. He caught Bella instead.

Sophia lost her balance. She tumbled down the stone steps, clutching the urn in her bag.

Her body scraped against rock. Bruises bloomed everywhere.

“Sophia!” Adrian's face went white. “I’m sorry—Bella was closer to me, so I—”

"Help me up," Sophia ground out.

*“Mr. Sterling,”* Bella feigned panic. *“The car has a first‑aid kit. We should tend to Mrs. Sterling’s wounds. She might get infected.”*

Adrian could not seem to look Sophia in the eye. He turned and hurried back down the path toward the car, leaving the two women alone on the empty stone steps.

Bella stood over her like a victor.

"Everyone says Mr. Sterling adores his wife." Her voice was light, conversational. "Apparently not as much as they think."

She tugged her collar to one side. The skin along her throat and collarbone was littered with bruises and bite marks — fresh, deliberate, unmistakable.

“He told me he’s bored of you. Can’t get excited looking at your body anymore. It must hurt, lying alone every night.”

Sophia grabbed a tree trunk and pulled herself up. Her voice was flat.

“You like my trash so much? Take it. But if he loves you so much, why won’t he divorce me?”

Bella’s face twisted. She lunged.

Sophia instinctively shielded the urn. Bella noticed. She grabbed the bag and threw it down the hillside.

*Crack.*

The urn split in two.

“No!”

Sophia’s heart tore apart. She slapped Bella across the face.

Bella’s mouth curved. She dropped to her knees, sobbing.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Sterling. I didn’t mean to dirty your bag. Please don’t beat me to death.”

“Sophia!” Adrian’s voice thundered. “What are you doing?”

He had never used that tone with her before. “It’s just a bag. Is a bag more important than a person?”

Bella crawled toward the broken pieces. “I'm sorry, Mrs. Sterling — please, hit me, do whatever you want, just don't fire me, my family needs me, let me clean it for you—”

“Stop.” Adrian’s voice was cold. He picked up the bag and held it over the cliff.

“Sophia. When did you become this cruel? Apologize to Bella.”

“No!”Sophia couldn’t breathe. “Adrian! Do you know what’s in that bag? It’s your—”

“I don’t care. Apologize.”

He let the bag slip a fraction. Only the strap hung from his fingers.

“I’m sorry!” Sophia’s nails dug into her palms. “I’m sorry!”

She bowed ninety degrees to Bella. Then her knees hit the stone. She pressed her forehead to the ground.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Blood dripped from her forehead.

“Is that enough? Adrian. Is that enough?”

Her voice cracked. Each word came out like something bleeding. Even Adrian softened. He pressed his lips together, he opened his mouth—

Bella staggered. She began to fall.

“Careful!”

Adrian caught her. The bag slipped from his hand. It tumbled down the cliff.

Sophia did not move.

"Adrian," she said softly. "You're going to regret this."

He didn’t hear. He was already carrying Bella down the hill.

Sophia pulled the third engagement ring from her pocket. She turned it in her palm and ran her thumb along the inside of the band, where the engraving caught the light.

*Forever, my Sophia.*

A broken laugh escaped her. She drew her arm back and let the ring fly.

"Adrian," she whispered to the empty wind. "You are going to regret this."

She pushed herself to her feet. Her ankle screamed. She started limping, step by step, down the mountain alone.

Then she heard footsteps. Several men rushed at her. One kicked the back of her knee. She crashed to the ground. A crack—her kneecap. Pain blinded her.

“What do you want?” Her voice shook.