Chapter 1. Choosing Myself: Run

Sophia Rose’s POV

I only have two choices: kill myself or run away.

White pills litter the floor of my closet—a choice I couldn’t make. So, I’m running. I step over the pills, suitcase in hand. 

My parents have arranged for me to be married off to a rich man. This is the fifth arrangement. But this time, there’s no longer a way out.

In an hour, I’ll be officially introduced to him. And my fate will be sealed forever.

My hands tremble as I stuff my suitcase. 

I blink back tears, rushing to leave this privileged yet caged life for good. 

They won’t see it coming; I’ve been the perfect daughter, always saying yes to all their demands. The exemplary scholar with fine grades, the daddy’s girl who comes home from London whenever she’s needed.

I finally returned home with a resolve to figure out what I want to do with myself. That hasn’t happened at all. It’s been: ‘Sophia, do this, not that.’

Endless rules, constant scripts to follow.

The latest script is: “Sophia, you’re getting married.”

I was nineteen the first time I heard these words. Now twenty-three, and I’m still trapped.

My eyes flick to my jewelry box. Quickly, I grab it and empty it onto my clothes. 

Next, I grab some purses, shove them into my suitcase, and force it shut.

I step into my shoes and pull up my suitcase. The weight halts me for a second, but I drag it out of my closet.

My chest thumps rapidly. I’ve only disobeyed my parents a few times, but nothing comes close to what I’m about to do.

I rush to my vanity, where my purse full of cash waits. With shaky hands, I scoop all I can from the table and dump them into the purse before wearing it across my shoulder.

My phone buzzes on the bedside desk.

I grab it fast.

It’s my best friend, who lives in London. 

Layla: {Sure about this, Soph?}

I type my response without hesitation: {My second option is death, Lay. DO YOU WANT TO ATTEND MY FUNERAL??}

Me: {Tell me he’s almost here.}

I twist my mouth, tapping my shoe against the ground as I await her reply.

Most of my close friends are in London or far away from New York. Layla has a friend here who’s supposed to pick me up and help with my escape.

Layla: {You’re not dying. He’ll be at your house in 10}

Me: {Thanks}

I throw my phone into my purse, grab the handle of my suitcase, and pull with purpose.

There’s a sudden knock on my door.

My breath stops. I freeze, eyes locked on the door.

The knock comes again.

“My love?” My dad’s voice echoes.

I swallow hard, chest tightening immediately. 

My eyes fall to the doorknob, and I can only hope I locked my door after he and my mom left hours ago—when they broke the bad news of my sell-off to me. 

He knocks again, softly. “Sophia? Are you there, my love?”

Tears sting my eyes. I bite my bottom lip when it starts to quiver, fist tightening around the suitcase handle.

“I’ll come down in thirty minutes.” I lie, putting my hand over my eyes.

“I know you’re mad at me, but would you let your dad in for a minute? So, we can talk…”

I stare at my suitcase, knowing I’m trapped for life the minute he walks in.

“Dad?”

“My love?”

My breath trembles.

“I’ll… I’ll come to your study. I have to get dressed for my fiancé’s arrival.”

He’s quiet.

I sniffle.

“I’ll be waiting.”

“Mm,” I mumble loud enough, choking in pain.

Seconds pass as I remain in the same spot, eyes welling up, and waiting for him to leave.

I hear him leave finally, and my heart crumbles. The tears spill out now; I don’t hold them back.

He said he was truly sorry. He said he was doing it for me. But he also promised the fourth was the last one, yet he betrayed me.

His company has gone bankrupt, and they’re giving me away to a stranger to save it. I’m no savior; I’m just a girl who wants a life of her own.

Buzzing with determination, I flick my tears and resume my escape. I turn the doorknob, opening the door slightly to peek.

Noise from downstairs floats to my ears. I inhale the feast my mom and the cooks are preparing for the heartless fool coming to propose.

The coast is clear.

Quietly, I pull my suitcase with me and slip out of my room.

My dad’s study is downstairs. 

But I wheel my suitcase across the hallway to his bedroom. There’s a secret exit out of this mansion. Or cage. It leads to our backyard.

I push the wall in my father’s closet; it opens to a dark passage. I move in, and the wall closes in on me.

My phone vibrates. I reach for it, about to turn on the flashlight, but my dad has texted.

LOML: {Your mom and I love you so dearly.}

My heart drops.

I halt, hesitating for a moment.

Tears slip down my cheeks. My chest caves painfully. But I’m picking myself. I have to. 

I may not know what I want yet, but I know it’s not this.

Shunning every voice in my head, I descend the murky stairs. I push the door and step outside, feeling the cool night air caress my face.

I keep walking, dragging my suitcase swiftly. It trails a path. I’ll be gone before anyone discovers it.

When I get to the large beech tree in our backyard, I pause and unlock my phone. The tree is tall enough to be seen from outside the walls.

There’s already a text from Layla’s friend: {I just have to wait where the beech tree is, right?}

Me: {Yes. I’m gonna climb over the wall now. Are you here already?}

Layla’s friend: {Okay. I can see the tree}

I turn off my flashlight, return my phone to my purse, then zip it shut. 

Quickly, I step out of my shoes and throw them over the wall.

I pick up my suitcase. It almost sends me crashing to the floor, yet I manage to drag it up two sturdy branches. 

Now, it sits on my shoulder, unsteady. I gasp for air as I think of how to send it over without falling off the tree. 

A whimper slips out of my trembling lips. I push the suitcase with all my might, plastering myself against branches while clinging on for dear life.

The suitcase slips suddenly.

My breath catches. I grip the tree.

And in a second, it hits the ground hard. The edges splinter. It bursts open, pouring out clothes and jewelry. 

A rush of nausea hits me.

I’m going to be sick.

My pulse rings in my head. I tremble on the tree, losing my mind. 

I have to leave my suitcase behind.

“I’m here,” A deep voice reaches my ears.

I shut my eyes tight, fighting a retch. My legs shake. Sweat drips down my skin as if I’ve been in an oven.

“Are you there?” Layla’s friend speaks again.

My phone starts vibrating nonstop. My heart skips, goosebumps forming all over me. It has to be my mom calling. I know it.

I decide immediately, pulling my weight up the tree and onto the wall, climbing with desperation.

Pain radiates from my core. Something sharp scrapes against my thighs and arms. I breathe shakily. But there’s no going back.

“Y-you have to catch me,” I voice my fear as a painful lump forms in my throat. I guess I don’t want to die after all.

“Trust me.”

Do I have a choice?

I throw my legs over first. 

My breath stutters. My chest pounds. I shut my eyes.

And in a minute, I let go of the wall, releasing myself onto Layla’s friend.

The wind engulfs me as I drop.

And thud!

He catches me. With effortless strength. Squashed against him. And still standing firm without moving a foot.

I’m panting, shaking uncontrollably in his grip. My hair is in my face. Yet my eyes flick open to see who’s caught me.

“Were you trying to run away from me?” He utters in my face, lips shifting into a smirk—a charming yet terrifying one.

My pulse slams. Fear paralyzes me as I stare into dark, familiar eyes.

He’s not Layla’s friend. I can tell instantly because I know this person. 

“A-Alexander?” I gasp.

“Hello, Sophia,”

My breath seizes.

“Escaping, I see…” he murmurs, brushing hair from my face, “And here I was, looking forward to dinner with my bride.”