Chapter Eight

Evening came, and it was time to pick up Martha.

Arzhel had left a little earlier. Since he came by the studio, I figured he probably went to get his son too—even if school hadn’t finished yet.

When I got to Martha’s school, the usual noise of children playing had already faded. Most of the parents had picked up their kids.

But when I reached her classroom—

Martha wasn’t there.

I froze.

She was always here. Always waiting by the door, swinging her bag, smiling when she saw me.

I looked at her teacher, heart starting to race. “Where’s Martha?”

The teacher smiled politely. “Oh—her father came to pick her up.”

My blood ran cold.

“What?” I asked, voice sharp. “Who?”

“Her dad,” she repeated, clearly confused by my reaction. “He said you’d arranged it.”

I shook my head. “No. I didn’t.”

Her smile faded. “He… he said he was her father. He knew her name. She was happy to see him.”

My heart started pounding, panic rising like a wave I couldn’t stop.

No one picks up Martha but me.

No one.

I grabbed my phone with shaking hands and dialed Theo’s number.

It rang once.

Twice.

Then voicemail.

And the fear in my chest turned into something colder.

Something deeper.

Because if Theo had picked her up…

Why wasn’t he answering?

I didn’t even remember getting into the car.

One moment, I was standing there, the teacher’s words still echoing in my ears. The next, I was behind the wheel, speeding through the narrow streets of Manchester like a mad woman. Horns blared. Tires screeched. I didn’t care.

My hands were trembling so badly I could barely grip the steering wheel.

Please be home. Please be safe.

I pulled into the driveway and barely put the car in park before jumping out. I ran to the front door and shoved it open with a force that rattled the frame.

“Martha!” I shouted, breathless. “Martha!”

Silence.

I dropped my bag. My heart pounded so loud it drowned out everything else. My vision blurred.

“Martha!” I called again, louder this time—desperate.

Still nothing.

My knees nearly buckled as I stumbled further inside, scanning every corner of the living room.

Then, a soft voice floated from upstairs.

“In here, Mummy!”

I exhaled so hard I nearly collapsed.

“Oh my God—Martha!” I cried, racing up the stairs two at a time.

She was sitting on her bed, kicking off her shoes, completely unharmed. Safe. Whole.

I rushed to her, sank to my knees, and pulled her into my arms like I’d just dragged her from a burning building.

She giggled, caught off guard. “What’s wrong, Mummy?”

I kissed the top of her head, over and over again. “Nothing, baby. Nothing. You’re okay.”

She leaned back and studied my face, those bright eyes narrowing with concern.

“Mummy… were you crying?”

I quickly wiped my tears with the back of my hand. “No. Just tired, that’s all.”

She didn’t push.

Instead, her face lit up, full of innocent excitement. “Daddy came to get me from school today! We had so much fun!”

She smiled wide, completely unaware of the storm tearing through my chest.

I nodded slowly, my throat burning. “That’s… nice, sweetheart.”

But inside?

I was already reaching for my phone again—because Theo had crossed a line.

And this time, I wasn’t letting it go.

Footsteps creaked on the stairs behind me.

I turned, pulse still thudding in my ears, just as Theo appeared at the landing—calm as ever, hands in his pockets like he hadn’t just stolen a piece of my soul.

“There you are,” he said, smiling faintly. “Was just about to come down.”

My voice came out sharper than I meant. “Why weren’t you answering your phone?”

He blinked. “Oh—I didn’t even hear it ring. Must’ve left it on silent.”

Silent.

My hands clenched at my sides.

Before I said something I couldn’t take back in front of Martha, I turned to her and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Martha, sweetheart,” I said, voice as steady as I could manage. “Can you go to your room for a bit? Mommy and Daddy need to talk.”

She looked between us, a little confused, but nodded. “Okay.”

She padded upstairs,  humming to herself, completely unaware of the explosion about to erupt downstairs.

As soon as her door clicked shut, I turned back to Theo—and the restraint cracked.

“You took her without telling me,” I hissed. “You picked up my daughter from school without my permission.”

“Our daughter,” he said, too casually.

I boiled. Stepped forward, finger pointed. “Don’t say that like you earned the right to. Don’t throw around words like our just because it suits you now.”

His jaw tightened. “How many times will I have to tell you I’ve changed, Sofia?”

“And how many times do you expect me to believe it?” I snapped. “You think saying ‘I’ve changed’ is some magic spell that undoes everything? That erases what you did to me? What you put me through?”

His voice dropped, defensive. “I know what I did. I live with it.”

“Do you?” I laughed bitterly. “Because I don’t think you do. I think you sleep fine at night while I have to lie to her why she never got to know her daddy. Why I flinch every time your name comes up in conversation.”

Theo’s shoulders tensed. His face pinched like he wanted to say something—defend himself, spin the story—but I didn’t give him the space.

“Sofia—”

“No,” I cut in. “You don’t get to say my name like that. Not after today. You scared me. You scared me in a way I can’t even explain. You made me feel like I was losing myself all over again. And the worst part? You don’t even get to see it.

Theo took a slow step toward me, but I backed away just as quickly. The space between us felt like a battlefield, and every inch he gained felt like surrender.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, voice low. “I just wanted to spend time with her. I wanted her to know me.”

“Then you ask. You don’t show up and steal her from school like this is some kind of game.”

“She’s my daughter too,” he said through clenched teeth. “You can’t erase me from her life.”

“I’m not trying to erase you,” I said, my voice breaking at the edges. “I’m trying to protect her.”

Theo’s eyes darkened, but I didn’t flinch this time.

“Protect her from what?” he bit out, like he genuinely didn’t understand—or maybe didn’t want to.

“From you,” I snapped. “From your dangerous world. Your mafia life. Your enemies. Your power games. Your stupid wars that you pretend are about honour but always leave people bleeding on the floor.”

He stilled, jaw tight.

“I don’t want my daughter to wake up one day to a bullet in our mailbox, Theo. I don’t want her learning to lie before she can spell because Daddy’s enemies are watching. I don’t want to see her used as leverage, as bait, as a name scribbled in someone’s hitlist because you still haven’t cleaned up your messes.”

“Sofia—”

“I know that world, Theo!” I shouted, hands shaking now. “I lived in it. My father and you dragged me into it! And don’t you dare stand there and act like it wasn’t your fault.”

He flinched at that.

But I was far past caring.

“I was collateral,” I said, voice trembling, raw. “You used me because my father refused to pay five million. You used my body to make a statement. You raped me and then pretended it was business.”

His mouth parted—whether to deny it or defend it, I didn’t care.

“No. You don’t speak,” I said, breathing hard. “You don’t get to speak when you’ve already rewritten the story in your head.”

He looked wrecked now. Pale. Silent. Maybe even ashamed.

But shame was a luxury I’d never been given.

His eyes glistened, but I didn’t stop.

“I’m protecting her from growing up with blood on her doorstep. From midnight knocks. From disappearances, bodyguards, secrets. From the way I used to flinch every time  I heard you coming.”

Theo didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

“I won’t let her become a bargaining chip like I was,” I said quietly. “She’s not your redemption story, Theo. She’s my daughter. Mine. And I won’t let you break her like you broke me.”

And with that, I turned away—because if I looked at him any longer, I might start to crumble.