LOGINSophie walked through the white corridors of Langham Medical Centre. A man in white lab coat walked ahead of her, leading her to a room. The door ajar, the nameplate on it read “Prof. Mary Dunham”.
“Professor Dunham,” he said, knocking on the door. The lady inside was unresponsive. “Professor Dunham, Mrs. Beckett is here.”
“Who?&
Adrian walked to the reception and asked for Sophie. The answer he received was, “Mrs. Beckett is in a quarterly review meeting. Is it urgent? I can try to relay your message, Mr. Beckett.”Quarterly review meeting. Sophie ran it more seriously than Adrian thought.“No, it’s okay,” he said. “I will just wait here.”He watched the employees move about. Just like how Sophie set up a system at home, she had set something up here as well. They moved in a coordinated manner, restocking and replacing displays. He then had a talk with one of the people from management, and he just showed Adrian a few reports with very few resistance.Sophie really never planned to hide anything from him. He just didn’t bother asking.
Several days went past without any news on a signed divorce filing. Sophie found herself waking up later and later in the day. She consulted her doctor and received only words that it was normal during early stages of pregnancy.As if complicit in that diagnosis, bouts of nausea began hitting her, too.It was another one of those days. She woke up to find that it was already ten in the morning. Gregory had been trying to reach her: a rather concerning detail, since he never contacted her if there wasn’t any meaningful update. So she called back.“You need to prepare for a contested divorce, Mrs. Beckett,” Gregory opened.“Why? Did he shred the papers again?”“No,” Gregory replied. “But he knew you’re currently busy at your bo
Dinner wound down the way Whitaker events always did. Slowly, warmly, with Mrs. Whitaker extracting promises from everyone before she would let them leave."You'll visit next week," she told Sophie. Her voice was firm, a signal that it was not a question."I'll try, Mrs. Whitaker.""You will visit next week," she repeated, putting emphasis on each word.Sophie could only laugh. "Yes, Mrs. Whitaker."Only then did the older woman seem satisfied. She held Sophie's hands for a moment, slightly longer than necessary. Her kind eyes searched Sophie’s in a way that was reassuring."You're doing well," Mrs. Whitaker finally said. "Bett
Oliver stood there, his towering 6’4 body draped in black tie suit. His golden hair was neatly slicked back. Sophie couldn’t remember the last time she saw Oliver in such a formal setting. Normally, he just let his hair down, obscuring the edges of his face. With his hair pushed back, the strong lines of his face were suddenly impossible to miss. “Looking good, Ollie,” Sophie said in a hushed voice, “but I’m Mrs. Beckett right now.”“Right, right,” Oliver nodded, pulling his hands when he saw Sophie had found her footing. He followed it all by speaking, in a slightly raised voice this time, “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Beckett. You should be careful. There are dangerous shards everywhere.”Sophie smiled—Mr. Blackwood was a terrible actor. If not for his reputation as a carefree socialite, people might have noticed how deliberate this entire exchange sounded. “Thank you, Mr. Blackwood,” Sophie said.On the corner of her eyes, she saw Adrian on the floor. His palm was bleeding after holdin
A long-wheelbase Bentley pulled up in front of Donovan Rise. As if it wasn’t enough, a Whitaker crest was painted on the side. Sophie held her laugh: Mrs. Whitaker didn’t play. She really wanted to cheer Sophie up. So as to not waste the kind gesture, Sophie climbed into the car and, within the bounds of propriety, enjoyed all the amenities provided. Except the vintage wine. Damn, Sophie could really use some of that. She put her hands on her belly. There would be champagne tonight. Plenty of it. Normally, refusing a glass at a Whitaker gala would attract little attention. Tonight, however, every eye in New York seemed determined to watch her. She still wanted to keep her baby a secret for a little longer, but if she completely steered away from alcohol, she wondered if it would be too noticeable. Just an hour later, they arrived at the Whitaker’s residence. Built on a vast generational land, it took another
Phones ringing, the PR department running around in chaos. Calls coming one after another. When they thought they'd managed to control the situation, just when they finally managed to send all the reporters away, they immediately swarmed back in. All just because of a single post made from an anonymous account.Adrian’s heart sank. He knew who did it—the one behind the account. What he didn’t know was that she would actually do it.Why? He had defended her properly. He hadn’t exposed her, not even blaming her. People no longer thought she was a vicious, jealous wife. The situation was under control. He had told her it would. Why was she still mad?Gregory Abbott stood by his side, never not on call. Adrian himself was swamped, rejecting interview requests left and right. The HR department had been bugging him for a while. They had been since the first time the scandal happened. Their demand was clear: to suspend Julia Hall. He managed to convince them othe
Sophie woke up to the smell of coffee.For a brief, disorienting second, everything felt normal. Then last night came rushing back. The midnight whisper. The birthday call. The promises meant for another woman.
The next thing Sophie knew, they were on a trip to Long Island.It was summer, and the beach provided a perfect summer escapade. Sophie heard the name a lot, and had been curious for a long time. Finally, one more thing to cross from her to-do list in America.When they started driving, it was dark
Early in the morning, Sophie woke up to yet another charade.When she opened her eyes, she couldn’t find Adrian. She found him in the kitchen, operating the coffee machine. It was what she got for their first wedding anniversary, back when Sophie said she wished to enjoy espresso anytime she wanted
Adrian fulfilled his promise. Just as the clock struck midnight, Sophie could hear the beeping of their door system. She swiftly assumed her usual role. The wife, who was always ready to welcome her husband back.“Adrian, you’re too much,” Sophie said with a pout. “Not a word, not even a text. Do I







