Chapter 16: Picking up the Pieces

Sophia stood outside the glass doors of St. Clair Industries, staring at her reflection. The woman looking back at her wasn’t the same one who had walked through these doors weeks ago. Her face was pale, her eyes hollow, her once soft features now sharp with exhaustion. Grief had stripped away every ounce of warmth she used to carry.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to move. The doors slid open, and the familiar hum of the office swallowed her. Phones rang, keyboards clicked, and employees bustled about, their lives unchanged. No one stopped to look at her. No one knew how much her world had fallen apart.

Her feet felt heavy as she walked down the hallway toward the janitor’s supply room. The air smelled the same—coffee, ink, cleaning detergent—but everything felt different. As if she was moving through a place she no longer belonged.

She reached for the mop, her fingers tightening around the handle. Work. That’s what she needed. Something to keep her hands busy, her mind distracted.

“Sophia?”

The voice made her freeze.

Turning slowly, she found Mr. Daniel standing by the doorway, his brow creased. He wasn’t a man of many words, but right now, his gaze held something she hadn’t seen before—concern.

“You’re back.” His voice was softer than usual.

Sophia forced a nod. “Yes, sir.”

He studied her for a moment, his sharp eyes scanning her face. “I heard about your mother. I’m really sorry.”

Her throat tightened. She swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump that had lodged itself there.

“Thank you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Mr. Daniel sighed, rubbing a hand over his chin. “What happened?”

Sophia gripped the mop like it was the only thing holding her up. The memories flooded back—the hospital, the way her mother’s fingers had felt so cold the last time she held them.

She let out a shaky breath. “She was sick… She needed surgery. I tried to get the money, but… I lost it.”

The words burned as they left her mouth.

“And she didn’t make it.”

Saying it out loud made it feel more real.

The room felt too small, the silence stretching between them.

Mr. Daniel exhaled sharply, his usual strict demeanor cracking. “I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been.” His tone was careful, measured. “That’s a heavy loss, Sophia.”

She nodded stiffly, her chest rising and falling too fast. “I just… I just want to work. Keep my mind busy.”

Mr. Daniel hesitated before nodding. “I get that.” He glanced down at her hands, noticing how tightly she was gripping the mop.

After a moment, he said, “If you need anything, just let me know.”

She forced a small smile. “Thank you, sir.”

With that, she turned away, dipping the mop into the bucket. As she moved it across the floor, she focused on the repetitive motion, the quiet swish of water against tiles.

She thought work would help, that it would numb the pain. But even as she scrubbed, the ache in her chest didn’t fade. It was still there, sitting beneath the surface, waiting for a moment of weakness to consume her again.

…..

After cleaning, she decided to return her working equipment. She barely noticed where she was going, her feet moving on their own as she made her way to the janitor’s supply room.

Just as she reached for the door handle, a familiar voice called out.

“Sophia?”

She turned and saw Julian’s personal assistant, Sophia Dawson, standing a few feet away. Sophia Dawson looked effortlessly polished, her black pencil skirt and white blouse crisp, her sleek ponytail in perfect place. She was the kind of woman who always seemed in control, unfazed by the chaos around her. They bore the same name.

For a second, Sophia debated pretending she hadn’t heard her, but there was something different in Sophia Dawson’s expression—something softer.

“Hey,” Sophia said quietly, forcing a small smile.

Sophia Dawson stepped closer, her brown eyes filled with concern. “I heard about your mom. I’m really sorry.”

Sophia’s fingers curled around the door handle, her throat tightening. She hated these moments—the ones where people looked at her with pity, offering condolences that didn’t change anything.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

Sophia Dawson hesitated before adding, “I know we don’t talk much, but I just wanted to check on you. Losing a parent… it’s not something you just move on from.”

Sophia swallowed hard, looking down at the floor. “It’s been… hard. Some days, I wake up and forget she’s gone. Then it hits me all over again.”

Sophia Dawson nodded, crossing her arms. “I get that. I lost my dad a few years ago. It doesn’t really go away… but it gets easier. Eventually.”

Sophia glanced up, surprised. She hadn’t known that. Sophia Dawson always seemed so put together, like nothing ever touched her.

There was a brief silence before Sophia Dawson spoke again. “Listen, I left something for you on your desk. Just… a little something to help.”

Sophia frowned. “For me?”

Dawson offered a small smile. “Yeah. Go check.”

Sophia hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

She turned and walked toward Sophia Dawson's office, her curiosity battling with the heaviness in her chest. It had been a long time since someone did something kind for her without expecting anything in return. After everything that had happened with Tina, Alex, and Savi, she had learned to be wary of people.

Reaching her desk, she saw a small, neatly wrapped box sitting on top. The sight of it made her pause. It was simple—black wrapping paper with a silver ribbon tied around it. She ran her fingers over the edges, hesitating before finally pulling the ribbon loose.

Inside was a black leather notebook and a smooth, elegant pen.

She lifted the notebook carefully, flipping it open to find a note tucked inside.

“Write it down. Everything. The pain, the anger, the memories. Let it out.”

Sophia exhaled slowly, gripping the book a little tighter.

She ran her fingers over the pages, the crisp paper cool against her skin. It wasn’t just a notebook. It was an invitation—to release everything she had been holding inside.

For weeks, she had been drowning in emotions she didn’t know how to express. The pain, the betrayal, the unbearable weight of loss—it had all been trapped inside her, suffocating her.

And now, here was a way out.

A lump formed in her throat as she blinked back the sudden sting of tears.

Dawson didn’t have to do this. She could have just said her condolences and moved on like everyone else. But instead, she had given her something more—a reminder that she wasn’t completely alone in this.

Sophia closed the notebook and held it against her chest, taking a slow, shaky breath.

Then, her eyes shifted to something else on the desk. A folder.

Her heart skipped a beat as she noticed her name printed in bold letters on the front.

She reached for it with unsteady fingers, flipping it open.

Her breath hitched.

Inside was a contract.

And it had her name on it.

Her fingers tightened on the edges of the paper as unease curled in her stomach.

What was this?

And why did she have a sinking feeling that nothing in her life was about to get easier?