Chapter Two : Scar

             Sophie Steele POV

With a jolt I wake.

The first thing that registers is disappointment. I'm no longer in my bedroom in the Steel mansion seven years ago. I'm currently in my luxury loft studio in the heart of Los Angeles surrounded by art, supplies and the kind of serenity that cannot be purchased in the market.

Things have changed now. I am no longer the dewy-eyed, self-effacing teenager that once upon a time used to be obsessed with her stepbrother. The one who was always walking on eggshells, afraid to offend anyone, dimming her shine so that no one had cause to squint their eyes at how exceptional she was. I am successful, independent, unapologetic and most importantly over the crush that had spiralled my life out of control nearly a decade ago. I have everything I need now– a successful career, a home, cars, a child of my own. I am accomplished. Yet I can't help but feel a nag of emptiness like something is missing– a need I haven't quite come to terms with. It's obvious in how much my cheeks are flushed, how my heart thumps, beating a drumbeat I know all too well.

Unwilling to engage with the current trend of my thoughts, I push them aside and get on my feet. Money is what matters now– it's what drives the world, not emotion, love or unnecessary sentiment– and I'm about to make some more.

I turn to the half-complete sketches I had been working on before I fell asleep and grab my tools to finish them, noting that I am running behind schedule. The designs need to be ready for tomorrow’s showcase and I have quite a number to make. Already I have buyers queuing and I'm not even finished yet. There's work to do.

No, I am not the Sophie of yesterday. This here, is a woman who built her business from scratch seven years ago, rose from the ashes of heartbreak, rejection and penury to become a force to reckon with.

*

I am almost done with my current project when my little boy runs into my workspace looking too cute to even belong to this world. “Mommy! Mommy! I'm sooooo hungry!" He announces self-righteously like I hadn't offered him some cookies earlier. The same ones he rejected just to stay longer in front of the TV.

But I humour him anyway. "And what would my little prince like to eat for dinner tonight?”

He pretends to mull over it. “Ice cream?”

“Try again. You know you can't eat that this late at night. It's not healthy for you."

Now he does some real thinking. "Pasta.”

“That's a good boy. Do you want veggies too?"

“Do I have to?"

“Yes, my love.What did I say about eating healthy?”

"You said to," he replies guiltily.

I smile. “I did.Now will you make sure to finish your serving?”

"I will, Mommy.”

“Great. Give me a few minutes to finish my work and we will go out for dinner, okay?”

He nods and busies himself, rifling through the papers and million little items on the center table next to my station. I am still putting the finishing touches on the dress before me when he runs over, clutching a booklet tightly to his chest. "Mommy! Mommy!”

"Yes, my dear?” I peer down to see what has him so excited and notice the cover page of the magazine in his hand. On it is a portrait picture of Dominic Steele, first son and heir to the Steele business empire.

“Why does he have my kind of eyes?" Ethan asks, looking up at me like he is genuinely confused. “They're so grey like mine."

For a moment I can't decide what to say. “Well."

“Who's this Mommy?"

“He's the CEO of Steele Resources," I answered. This isn't a lie of course, though it is not the whole truth.

“What does CEO mean, Mommy?"

“It means Chief Executive Officer,” I answered patiently. "He's the Boss of the company I mentioned earlier.”

My little boy nods sagely. "So do we know him? Is he a friend of yours? You're also a boss Mommy. Do all bosses know each other?”

"No, they don't. We don't know him. Now go and put on your shoes so we can get you a very gigantic bowl of Spaghetti Bolognese.”

*

Dinner takes two hours. Soon after Ethan is so full he can hardly breathe, too tired to ask for a bedtime story. We rush through his bath and then I tuck him in.Now I'm lying on his bed, simultaneously patting him to sleep and trying to make the hardest decision I've ever had to make in such a long time– returning home.

Only some thirty minutes ago my assistant had forwarded an email to me. My step father is dead and his burial has been fixed. I am required to show up for it; pay my last respects and I want to. Richard Steele has always been kind to me. Never condescending, overbearing or difficult. We weren't as close as a biological father would be with his own child because I never really saw him in that light but the few moments we spent together, I saw the effort he made to make me feel welcome in his home. He never spoke to me harshly once when I lived at the Steele family villa and he made sure I never lacked anything.

Now he's gone… my former stepfather and one of the few members of that family I don't totally despise to the moon and back. I have to go there, attend the funeral. I owe him. Beyond the gratitude I feel, it is courtesy on my part. He was my father too and though he wasn't perfect he tried his best.

But am I ready for what I will face back home? Only one letter brought a flood of emotions surging through me. Imagine what going back to the place it all started would do. Heaven knows I am not prepared for it.

My gaze goes to Ethan again and my chest tightens like it would burst. I don't think he's prepared either for the truth. The real one.