Chapter 7: The Hostage

"Give those back to me, Sophia," Claire said, her voice shaking with a mix of fear and anger. She took a step toward the armchair.

Sophia didn't flinch. She elegantly tapped the thick stack of papers against her knee, her expression cold and completely unbothered.

"I don't think I will," Sophia replied flatly. "Do you have any idea how much damage these five pieces of paper could do to Kingston Corporation if they leaked to the press right now?"

"This isn't about the company!" Claire snapped, walking closer. "That is my personal life. It's a legal document. You have absolutely no right to touch it."

"I have every right," Sophia stood up, her sharp heels clicking against the hardwood floor. "My job is to protect the CEO. From rival companies, from greedy board members, and apparently, from his own incredibly selfish wife."

Claire stopped in her tracks. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Sophia said, her dark eyes narrowing behind her sleek glasses. "You are selfish, Claire. You have always been selfish. Raphael carries the weight of a billion-dollar empire on his shoulders. He didn't sleep. He barely ate. He protected your father's failing company from bankruptcy without ever asking for a simple 'thank you.' And how do you repay him?"

Sophia tossed the envelope onto the desk with a sharp smack.

"You whine that he doesn't take you on enough dates," Sophia sneered. "You complain that the penthouse is too quiet. You completely break him because he isn't playing the role of a perfect, available prince charming. You are completely ungrateful."

Claire felt a hot spark of pure rage ignite in her chest.

She was tired of everyone in this family treating her like a spoiled child. She was tired of being the villain in a story where she was the one bleeding.

"Are you done?" Claire asked, her voice dropping into an icy calm that matched Sophia's.

Sophia crossed her arms, looking down her nose at Claire. "I'm just getting started."

"No, you're done," Claire fired back, stepping right into Sophia's personal space. "You manage his calendar, Sophia. You book his flights. You fetch his coffee. Do not stand there and act like you know a single thing about my marriage."

Sophia’s jaw tightened.

"Did you sit in the hospital with me when I lost my baby?" Claire asked, her voice cracking just a fraction before she forced it back to steel. "Did you sleep next to a man who stared at the ceiling for three years without saying a word? No. You got to clock out and go home. I lived here. So keep your twisted opinions about my 'selfishness' to yourself."

For a second, a flash of something unreadable crossed Sophia's face. But she quickly buried it behind her perfect, professional mask.

"Your personal tragedy does not give you the right to destroy his life," Sophia said coldly.

"I didn't destroy his life. He signed those papers!" Claire pointed at the desk. "He wanted out too. Now hand them over."

Claire reached for the envelope, but Sophia’s hand shot out, snatching it off the desk faster than Claire could blink.

"I said no," Sophia stated, holding the envelope firmly against her chest.

Claire let out a frustrated breath. "Sophia, what is your endgame here? If you hate me so much, you should want me to file these! If I file them, I'm gone. You never have to deal with me again."

"If you file these tomorrow, the media will find out by noon," Sophia explained, speaking slowly like she was talking to a child. "The headlines will read that Kingston Corporation's CEO got divorced and crashed his car on the same night. The stock will plummet. The board will vote to replace him while he's lying in a hospital bed."

"That's his problem, not mine," Claire said, though her stomach twisted at the thought.

"And what about his brain, Claire?" Sophia stepped closer, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "The doctor said any sudden trauma could cause permanent cognitive damage. If Vivian finds these, she will use them to hurt you, and she won't care if it breaks his mind in the process. If you take them, you'll try to leave."

Claire swallowed hard. She hated that Sophia was making sense.

"So what are you going to do?" Claire asked defensively. "Burn them?"

"No," Sophia said, smoothing out the front of the envelope. "Because when he finally gets his memory back, he is going to need to see these. He is going to need to know exactly what you did."

Sophia stepped around Claire, walking toward the foyer.

"I am putting these in a secure safety deposit box," Sophia said without looking back. "Only I have the key. And I am keeping them there until Raphael's brain heals."

Claire spun around, panic setting in. "You can't do that! You're holding my divorce hostage!"

"I am managing a crisis," Sophia corrected her, pulling her sleek trench coat off the coat rack. "Which is what I am paid to do."

"Sophia, please," Claire walked after her, desperation leaking into her voice. "I can't pretend to be his happy wife. I can't do it. It's going to kill me."

Sophia paused with her hand on the brass doorknob. She finally turned to look at Claire, her expression completely void of any sympathy.

"Then you better act like your life depends on it," Sophia said coldly. "Because until the doctor clears his memory, you belong to him. You will stay by his side. You will smile. You will hold his hand. You will keep him happy, and calm, and alive."

"And if I don't?" Claire challenged her.

"If you try to run," Sophia warned, her eyes flashing dangerously, "I will hand these papers directly to the press myself, and I will make sure the entire world knows that Claire Ellis destroyed her husband and then abandoned him when his brain was broken."

Claire felt the air leave her lungs. It was a perfect trap.

"Have a good night, Mrs. Kingston," Sophia said mockingly. "I suggest you get back to the hospital. Your husband misses you."

The heavy door clicked shut.

Claire stood completely alone in the dark foyer. She stared at the empty space where Sophia had just been, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

She was trapped. Legally divorced, but forced into a fake marriage by her husband's ruthless secretary.

Suddenly, the phone in her coat pocket buzzed loudly.

Claire jumped. She pulled it out with shaking hands. It was a text from Ethan.

Ethan: He’s waking up. He’s looking for you. He’s already asking the nurse where you went. Get back here NOW.

Claire squeezed her eyes shut, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

She wiped it away aggressively. She didn't have time to cry. She had a role to play.

Taking a deep breath, Claire grabbed her keys, turned around, and walked out the door to go play the perfect wife to the man who broke her heart.