Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

The morning sun broke through the sheer curtains of Sophia's room like a spotlight, but she wasn't asleep. She had been awake for hours, lying still, her thoughts spinning uncontrollably since she left Alexander’s hotel room. Her phone was already buzzing on the nightstand.

She sat up slowly, her muscles sore and her heart conflicted. 40 missed calls. And then came messages – screenshots, news, headlines. She scrolled through them with trembling fingers.

“Burnett Heirness Spotted in the Hotel With Beaumont Tycoon”

“Sophie Burnett’s Scandalous Night”

The footage was grainy, but it was unmistakably her. Dressed in last night’s cocktail dress, hair dishevelled, stepping into a hotel with Alexxander Beaumont.

“Damn it, Alexander”, she muttered under her breath.

Just then the door swung open. Her mother, walked in holding a tablet, a grave expression plastered on her face.

“Sophie.” Sophie braced herself.

Her mother handed her the tablet. “It’s everywhere”. 

“I know,” Sophiw replied, her voice dry. Her mother studied her, “Did you plan this?”

Sophie’s eyes snapped up. Excuse me?”

“I mean –was this a stunt? A move against Etan? Because if it was, it’s working”. 

“No, Mum,” Sophie said firmly. “I didn’t plan anything. Silence fell between the. Finally her mother sighed. “Well, whether it was a mistake or not, the world is watching now.”

 A knock interrupted them. Richard Burnett entered, stern as ever.Come downstairs. Emergency meeting, “he said.

THE BOARDROOM 

The blinding lights of early morning filtered through the conference room's floor-to-ceiling windows. Sophie sat at the head of the polished mahogany table, flanked by Burnett Group’s senior board members—some loyal, some skeptical. The hush in the room was unsettling.

Her father, Richard Burnett, stood behind her with crossed arms, his presence silent but thunderous.

“And as you can see,” said John, the head of public relations, gesturing at the monitor, “the footage has already been picked up by EliteGist, PowerPulse, and BusinessRadar. It’s everywhere.”

Sophie couldn’t look at the screen.

She didn’t need to.

The grainy hotel security footage looping on the news was branded in her mind—her stepping into the hotel beside Alexander Beaumont, her eyes hollow, her body language unmistakably intimate.

I trusted you’d keep a low profile, “Richard said, calm but biting. “But here we are.”

Xander her brother cut in, eyes locked on sophie. It’s not just the footage. People are questioning your ability to lead. There’s chatter about you being emotionally unstable. 

Sophies’s jaw clenched. “Because i had a breakdown after being publicly humiliated by my cheating ex-husband?”

“That’s not what they see, “Xander said coldly. “They see weakness.”

Richard leaned forward. “We’ll control the narrative. But you have two choices.”

Sophie lifted her chin. “I’m listening.”

“One : stay quit. Let us handle the damage. You’ll stay outy of the spotlight and wait this out quietly, “he said.

“Two : own it. Hold a press conference. Reclaim your voice. You’ll need to make it clear that you’re not a victim anymore.”

Sophie hesitated.

And then, slowly she spoke. I’ll hold the press conference.”

Freya blinked. “ Are you sure?”

“I’ve been hiding for too long. If I'm going to fix this. I’ll do it my way.” 

That evening, she sat alone in her apartment in the Burnett penthouse, the city skyline glittering outside her window, mocking her.

She picked up her phone, hesitating, then finally called the one person who owed her an explanation.

Alexander answered on the second ring. “Sophie.”

“Did you leak the footage?” she asked, skipping greetings.

He exhaled. “Yes.”

The word crashed into her chest like glass.

“You bastard,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Why? What the hell was the point of humiliating me again?”

“I did it to protect you,” Alexander said. “Or at least, I told myself that. I knew the press would sniff it out eventually. Better to control the narrative. Make you look like you moved on fast... not like a victim.”

“Victim?” she laughed bitterly. “You think that makes me look powerful? You handed the press a scandal. And for what? Revenge? Pride?”

“No,” he said quietly. “Because I still care.”

A pause. Sophie didn’t respond. She didn’t know how.

Alexander continued, “I told you before—the business world doesn’t care about your feelings. But they do care about your name. Use this. Own it. Spin the story. Show them you don’t run from anything.”

Click.

Sophie ended the call.

She stared at her reflection in the darkened glass window.

They won’t destroy me again. Not Ethan. Not Alexander. Not the press. 

Later That Night – Sophie’s Room

The cursor blinked on her laptop screen.

Blank.

Then:

“My name is Sophie Burnett...”

She deleted it. Typed again.

“Some of you know me as Ethan Crawford’s ex-wife…”

Backspace.

She stared at the keyboard for a long time before her fingers began to move—not with logic, but with raw emotion.

Every sentence poured out of her like blood from a reopened wound.

By the time the draft was finished, it was nearly 3 a.m., and her hands were trembling. Not from fear. From release.

The Next Morning — Burnett Media Room

The house buzzed with quiet tension. Burnett staff moved like shadows, prepping the estate’s media hall. A makeup artist waited in the foyer, and a stylist hovered by Sophie’s room with a selection of blazers and heels.

But Sophie didn’t need help today.

She emerged in a simple white blazer over a black silk blouse, her hair pinned back in a sleek low bun. No heavy makeup, no jewelry, no performative glamour.

She was here to speak.

Not to be seen.

As she stepped into the private media hall, the sound of cameras and murmuring reporters echoed in her ears. A spotlight lit the podium.

She walked toward it slowly.

Her parents watched from a private balcony above. Alexander, she noticed, stood at the far back of the room—arms folded, eyes unreadable.

She didn’t waver.

She took the mic. The room fell silent.

And she spoke.

Sophie adjusted the microphone. Her throat was dry, and for one long second, she thought her voice might fail her.

Dozens of reporters sat before her. Lights. Cameras. Microphones angled like weapons.

And above them all, behind a glass partition, were the Burnetts—her family, regal and silent. Xander stood with his arms folded. Her father sat still as stone. Freya’s eyes shimmered.

And in the shadows near the exit—Alexander Beaumont.

Sophie took a breath, long and slow.

And began.

“Good morning.

 My name is Sophie Burnett.”

A flash went off. Then another.

“Some of you know me as Ethan Crawford’s ex-wife. Some of you know me as the woman in last night’s scandal. Some of you… don’t know me at all.

 But I’m here to change that.”

The room quieted. Every eye was on her.

“Three years ago, I walked away from the Burnett name. I thought I was making a brave choice—one rooted in love. I gave up my wealth, my career, my identity. I did it because I believed in someone who promised me the world.

 That person was Ethan Crawford.”

Her voice didn’t crack—but her fingers curled tightly around the podium.

“I was wrong.”

A murmur rippled across the reporters.

“I believed that love meant sacrifice. So I sacrificed everything.

 I endured silence when I should’ve spoken.

 I swallowed pain I should’ve screamed about.

 And I let myself become small, thinking that’s what good wives do.”

Flashbulbs popped. More reporters leaned forward, fingers dancing on keyboards.

“On our wedding anniversary, I found my husband in bed with another woman. A woman I had once called a friend.

 And that night, he handed me divorce papers.

 Just like that—three years, erased.

 But it didn’t stop there. No. Days later, I was arrested. Charged with a crime I didn’t commit. Accused of embezzling money from the very company I gave up my life to support.”

Gasps.

“Ethan Crawford didn’t just cheat. He lied. He stole.

 And then, he tried to ruin me.”

Sophie’s voice grew firmer, louder.

“But I’m not ruined. I’m here. I survived.

 And I’m taking my life back.”

A beat of silence passed. Sophie inhaled, then softened her tone.

“I didn’t ask to become a symbol.

 But if my pain can mean something—if it can help even one person feel less alone—then I’ll wear this spotlight with pride.

 To every woman who’s been gaslighted, discarded, or mocked…

 To everyone who’s been silenced…

 I see you.

 And you will hear me.”

The room erupted—not with noise, but with the energy of stunned admiration. The power of her words landed like thunder. A moment passed before applause broke out.

Sophie didn’t smile. She didn’t bow. She simply nodded, stepped down, and walked away.

Backstage – Minutes Later

“Wow,” Freya whispered as Sophie stepped into the green room. She immediately wrapped her arms around her daughter. “You were... breathtaking.”

Richard didn’t offer a hug—but he did step forward and say, “Well done.” And from him, that was more than enough.

Xander gave a quiet nod. No warmth, but no criticism either.

Sophie didn’t look for Alexander.

She didn’t need to.

Across the City – Social Media Storm

By the time Sophie reached her room, the video had gone viral.

“Sophie Burnett, you’re a warrior!”

 “That press conference should be taught in schools.”

 “From housewife to heroine—Burnett’s comeback is fire”

 “She said what needed to be said. PERIOD.”

 “Ethan Crawford, you're finished.”

She scrolled through hundreds of comments. Thousands. TikToks. T*****r threads. I*******m stories. Podcasts were already booking guest speakers to analyze her speech.

Then came the phone calls. Media. Brand managers. Women’s rights organizations. 

Her story was the moment.

But Sophie… didn’t feel triumphant.

She felt empty. Exhausted. And above all, angry.

This wasn’t a win. Not yet.

 Meanwhile – The Crawford Estate

Ethan hurled his iPad across the room.

“She's weaponizing the media,” he growled. “That little”

Belinda raised an eyebrow, sipping wine. “You're surprised?”

“She was supposed to be weak,” he hissed. “She was supposed to disappear quietly.”

“Well, she didn’t,” Belinda said coolly. “And now she’s coming for you.”

“She won’t win,” Ethan muttered.

Belinda stood, crossing the room to him. “She already won the sympathy vote. You? You’re a meme now.”

“I will bury her.”

“No,” Belinda corrected. “You’ll shut up and lie low. If she digs into the accounts—Switzerland, Panama, all of it—you and I are both screwed.”

Ethan paced, fingers pulling through his hair. “Then we get ahead of it.”

“Or,” Belinda said with a smirk, “we find a new distraction.”

At Burnett Garden Terrace

Sophie sat on a stone bench beneath the moonlight. The garden was quiet, a soft breeze playing with her hair.

She needed silence.

Footsteps approached. She didn’t look.

“I figured I’d find you here,” Alexander said gently.

She said nothing.

“You were incredible today,” he added, sitting beside her. “You made everyone remember why the name Burnett used to mean something.”

She gave him a sideways glance. “Is that all I’m good for to you? Symbolism?”

Alexander turned to her, his voice low. “No. You’re good for more than that. You’ve always been more than that.”

A tense pause followed.

“You leaked that footage on purpose,” she said. “You forced me into the spotlight.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because you were hiding in the dark. I couldn’t stand to see you shrink.”

Sophie looked away.

Alexander reached into his jacket and handed her a small envelope.

“What’s this?”

“A copy of the footage Ethan’s team has—security footage of you signing the 'embezzlement papers' on your anniversary night.”

Sophie opened the envelope. Her blood ran cold.

“It was edited,” he said. “Cut. Cropped. Tampered with. I had my team compare timestamps from the hotel’s footage.”

Sophie’s hands shook.

“We can prove it,” Alexander said. “We can prove you were framed.”

Back i

n Her Room – Hours Later

Sophie stared at the footage Alexander had given her. She played it again. And again.

It wasn’t just about clearing her name anymore.

This was war.