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Chapter Five
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2025-11-26 06:00:11Theo leaned back slightly on the couch, stretching one arm along the backrest like he owned the place.
No guilt. No shame. Just calm, smug confidence. “I’ve missed you too Sofia,” he said with a slow smile. I stared at him, unmoved. “Fifty seconds.” He chuckled—actually chuckled—like this was some game. “Relax, Sofia. You act like I broke into your house.” “You did,” I snapped. “You showed up uninvited. You sat here like you belonged. Like you didn’t ruin everything.” He tilted his head, eyes steady on mine. “I knocked. Your door was open. That’s not my fault, is it?” I clenched my fists. “Why are you here, Theo?” He stood slowly, rising to full height, his presence as overwhelming as ever. That old arrogance rolled off him like smoke. His voice dropped, smooth and maddening. “I came to see my daughter.” I folded my arms, trying to keep my voice steady. “She’s been perfectly fine without you.” Theo’s smirk softened, his tone losing some of its sharpness. He looked almost… resigned. “Yeah,” he said quietly, almost to himself, “because someone made damn sure of that.” I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat. Theo leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on mine. “Look, I’m not here for you,” he said, his voice low but firm. But I knew that was a lie. He glanced toward the stairs, where Martha had gone, then back at me. “I’m here for Martha. I swear.” I shook my head, my voice cold and firm. “You have no right to just waltz back into our lives like nothing ever happened.” Theo’s eyes met mine, steady and serious. “I’m not trying to act like nothing happened, Sofia. I’m sorry. I know I’ve said it before, but no matter how many times I apologize, you still won’t answer.” He took a slow breath, voice breaking a little. “Sofia, I missed it all. Her first smile, her first time sitting up, crawling, walking—her first word was probably ‘Dada.’ And I missed it all.” His words hung heavy between us, raw and full of pain—as if this confession had been locked inside him for years. For a moment, something flickered inside me—maybe pity, maybe something harder to name—but I crushed it down. This wasn’t about Theo anymore. Not really. I stepped back, keeping my distance so he couldn’t see any sympathy. “No,” I said, voice sharp, before I could stop myself. “Her first word was Mama.” Theo’s face softened briefly, but then I saw the tension return in his shoulders, the weight of his regret settling over him like a shadow. He opened his mouth to say something, but then tiny footsteps echoed from the hallway. “Mummy! Daddy!” Martha’s bright voice called out, full of excitement. I turned just as she appeared in the doorway. She looked like a little angel in a sparkly dress, her hair brushed and bouncing with every step. “Daddy!” she said again, arms stretched wide as she ran toward him. Theo’s whole face lit up. The tension broke as he crouched down and caught her in his arms. She giggled, wrapping herself tightly around him, her laughter filling the room. “I’m all changed!” she said proudly. I watched them, the lump in my throat growing heavy. It hurt to see Theo hold her so easily, so naturally—like no time had passed at all. It wasn’t fair. But it was real. Theo smiled softly at Martha, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he whispered. Martha beamed, her eyes shining with joy as she wriggled in his arms. “Thanks, Daddy! I can’t wait to show you my room! Come on, I’ll show you all my toys!” Theo smiled wider, clearly touched by her excitement. “Lead the way, princess.” I stood there, watching them, feeling a storm of emotions I wasn’t ready to face. Part of me wanted to pull Martha away, to shut the door on this moment and pretend none of it was happening. But another part—a quieter, softer part—held back. Deep down, I knew I had forgiven Theo. Maybe not fully, maybe not without scars, but enough to let him be a part of Martha’s life. After everything, I didn’t hate him—not the way I thought I should. I could see the love he had for our daughter, raw and real. For a brief moment, I almost let myself believe maybe, just maybe, things could be okay. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? I wanted to believe it. I wanted to pretend like time hadn’t broken us, like the years of pain hadn’t reshaped me. Like I hadn’t spent so long rebuilding myself, piece by piece. I swallowed hard, pushing those thoughts down as I watched them walk away—Theo holding Martha’s hand, her little fingers curling around his. He had missed so much. And that wasn’t something I could forget. Still, no matter how much I wanted to hate him, I couldn’t. Because somewhere in all the hurt and anger, I still cared.
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His Terms, My Surrender: Unfinished Surrender Chapter Forty
"You have twenty-four hours to decide. One day. You will follow the easy route—on the plane with Martha, willingly, to a secured residence in New York—or we go the hard way. The paperwork is already drawn up for the emergency protective custody order. I simply sign it, and you lose everything. Choose wisely, Sofia. This is the last choice you get to make."He didn't wait for my response. He shoved himself away from the wall, his power suddenly massive and overwhelming, and stalked away, his long strides carrying him down the stairs. The heavy thud of the front door closing moments later was the only sound, leaving the entire house to vibrate with the residue of his anger.I stood there, paralyzed, listening to the silence.Twenty-four hours.He had given me a deadline, a terrifying window of control before he erased my entire world. He didn't know that twenty-four hours was all I needed.My breath finally hitched, but I wasn't crying. I was calculating.New York. The word felt like a
His Terms, My Surrender: Unfinished Surrender Chapter Thirty Nine
Sofia’s PoVThe question—a choice between two nightmares—hung in the air, thick with the scent of his cruel authority. My lungs burned, but before I could summon a retort, before I could choose a lesser evil, a sound cut through the toxic silence.Soft, sleepy footsteps padded down the wooden stairs.“Mummy? Daddy?”My head snapped toward the sound. Martha.She stood halfway down the staircase, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand. Her face was pale, and her brow was furrowed with the kind of confusion only a child detects when the adults are playing a dangerous game.“Are you fighting?” she whispered, her small voice terrified and small in the expansive, angry hallway.The sheer, immediate terror on my face must have been enough.Theo recoiled instantly, stepping back from me as if scalded, the cold mask of the predator cracking to reveal the anxious father underneath. He didn't want her to see this. He never wanted her to witness his control, only his protection.I didn't wai
His Terms, My Surrender: Unfinished Surrender Chapter Thirty Eight
The word hung there, massive and devastating.“I have the resources, Sofia. I have the power, the connections, the demonstrable ability to provide protection, security, and a permanent, safe future in a city where I can personally ensure nothing touches her. You are fighting to keep a temporary life in a place that has already proven unsafe. You think a judge won’t look at the threats, the warnings, and see a mother whose emotional trauma is clouding her judgment about her daughter’s safety?”I watched the color drain from her face. I knew what I was suggesting was monstrous, a self-immolation that would destroy any faint hope of reconciliation. But if it meant Martha and Sofia lived, I would burn everything down, including us.But then, the chilling reality of the threat hit me, too. If I went through with this, I would win the battle for safety, but I would lose Sofia forever. I would shatter the fragile, tentative truce we had established, the careful co-parenting life we had buil
His Terms, My Surrender: Unfinished Surrender Chapter Thirty Seven
The house stayed quiet for the next hour.Too quiet.I sat on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on my knees, the letter crumpled in my fist. I kept replaying everything—Martha crying, Sofia’s shaking voice, the way the words on that paper laughed at us. At me.Every second that passed only made the anger rise higher, tighter, hotter.I checked my phone twice.No reply yet.But he would call.He always did.Footsteps sounded upstairs—soft ones, tired ones. Sofia was trying to comfort the kids while keeping herself together. I could hear her murmuring quietly to Martha, telling her she was safe, telling her Daddy was here.I clenched my jaw so hard I felt it in my teeth.Daddy was here… but it wasn’t enough today.Then the doorbell rang.I stood up immediately, expecting a message from him to follow, but nothing buzzed on my phone.Right.Aire’s driver.Sofia came down the stairs holding Aire gently by the shoulders. He looked calm now, tired, but okay. She walked him to the door an
His Terms, My Surrender: Unfinished Surrender Chapter Thirty Six
Theo’s PovI kept driving, but my mind wasn’t on the road anymore. It was on that letter. On Martha crying. On Sofia shaking beside me. On the fear I saw in both of their eyes.Something inside me snapped the moment I saw that paper in her hands.The old part of me.The part Sofia hopes never comes back.I’ve spent years keeping that side under control—calm, careful, measured. I’ve tried to be better. I’ve tried to keep my head down and live a quiet life for them. For Sofia. For Martha.But this?Scaring my daughter?Making Sofia believe our child was taken?Laughing about it?No.No. That crossed a line no one should ever cross.My fingers tightened around the steering wheel until my hands hurt. I could barely see straight from the anger building in my chest. I wanted to slam my fist through something—anything—but I kept myself steady because Martha was in the back seat… and Sofia was holding her so tightly.I swallowed hard and kept my voice low.Not now. Not in front of them.But t
His Terms, My Surrender: Unfinished Surrender Chapter Thirty Five
We didn’t make it to the ice cream place. The cheerful plan, the little reward we had promised them, felt impossible now, dissolved by the sting of that cruel, mocking letter. Theo’s hand found mine, his grip tight, grounding me, but even that comfort felt fragile under the weight of everything. Martha’s small fingers clung to mine, trembling slightly, her little body stiff with lingering fear. Each step back to the car felt impossibly heavy, every sound from the school—the laughter of other children, the shout of a teacher, the clang of a playground swing—echoing through me like it carried some hidden threat. The memory of her crying, the terror in her voice as she told us about the ghost and the letter, replayed relentlessly in my mind.Tears blurred my vision, and I forced myself to swallow back a sob. How could someone do this to a child? To my child? Even the thought of it made my chest tighten so sharply it was hard to breathe. Martha’s innocence, her excitement about the play,
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