Chapter 4

Sophia's POV

I looked at the envelope as if it were a poisonous snake. "You can't be serious."

"All the directors will be present," he replied calmly. "It would be strange if you, specifically, didn't attend."

"Strange?" I repeated, my voice rising an octave. "What's strange is you inviting me to celebrate your engagement with the woman you cheated on me with!"

Alexander stood up abruptly, circling the desk until he was inches from me. His familiar scent, woody, expensive, exclusive, invaded my senses, bringing back memories I was desperately trying to forget.

"Lower your voice," he ordered, his tone dangerously low. "There was no betrayal, Sophia. What we had was a convenient arrangement for both of us. You got promotions, recognition, a salary someone with your background could never have achieved so soon. I got... distraction."

Distraction. The word echoed in my mind, destroying any shred of dignity I was still trying to maintain.

"You said you loved me," I whispered, hating the vulnerability in my voice.

For a moment, so brief I later wondered if I had imagined it, something resembling remorse crossed Alexander's eyes. But it soon disappeared, replaced by his usual coldness.

"We say many things in the heat of the moment," he replied, stepping away. "Now, about the dinner on Saturday..."

"I'm not going," I interrupted, finding one last fragment of courage. "Fire me if you want. Sue me for the penalty. But don't ask me to smile and toast to your happiness with her."

Alexander studied me for a long moment, his face an impenetrable mask. Then, to my surprise, he nodded.

"As you wish. But know that your absence will be noticed. And interpreted."

I turned to leave, unable to bear another second in that room, with that man I thought I knew.

"Sophia," he called as my hand touched the doorknob. "One last thing."

I stopped, without turning around.

"Victoria mentioned you weren't being... cooperative this morning. I understand the situation is uncomfortable, but I expect professionalism from you. Any behavior that could be interpreted as insubordination will result in consequences."

I slowly turned, staring at him with all the contempt I could muster. "You really have no heart, do you?"

A cold smile curved his lips. "I have an empire to run, Sophia. Sentimentality is a luxury I can't afford."

I left without responding, closing the door harder than necessary. In the hallway, away from his eyes, I allowed a single tear to roll down my cheek before wiping it away with determination.

In the elevator, as I descended back to the 48th floor, back to my cubicle, back to my humiliation, back to my new reality, a certainty formed in my heart: I would survive this. Somehow, I would find a way to escape Alexander Reed's clutches.

But for now, I had to endure. I had to be strong. I had to pretend my heart wasn't in pieces every time I saw him, every time I heard his name, every time I thought about how easily I had been replaced.

The elevator doors opened, and there was Victoria, waiting with a triumphant smile.

"How was the meeting with my fiancé?" she asked, emphasizing the last word.

I walked past her without responding, heading toward my cubicle. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing how much I was suffering.

"By the way," Victoria called, her voice echoing through the silent floor, "I'm still waiting for my coffee."

Fetching that coffee, obeying such a public and trivial command, set the tone. It was the first step of a downward spiral that the following weeks solidified into a daily exercise in humiliation. Victoria made a point of assigning me the most basic and tedious tasks, as if I were a newly hired intern and not the person who had built the marketing department from scratch.

"Sophia, I need these reports reorganized in alphabetical order."

"Sophia, could you make copies of these documents? Fifty of each."

"Sophia, my coffee is cold. Bring me another."

Each order was given with a sweet, poisonous smile, always in front of other employees. Each task was a reminder of how far I had fallen.

But the worst part wasn't the humiliating tasks. It was watching Victoria present my ideas as if they were her own. Strategies I had developed over months, campaigns I had conceived during sleepless nights—everything now bore her name.

And Alexander allowed it. More than that, he praised her publicly, as if she were a marketing genius who had revolutionized the company in just a few weeks.

"You need to report her," Emma insisted during our Friday lunch, the only time during the week I could escape the suffocating office environment. "This is workplace harassment, Sophia. You have rights."

I pushed my pasta around without appetite. "And report to whom? To HR that reports directly to Alexander? To the board that's enchanted with the new corporate 'power couple'?"

Emma sighed, frustrated. "Then quit. I know the penalty is high, but we can figure it out. I can lend you money, you can pay in installments..."

"No," I interrupted, determined. "I won't give up that easily. I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing me run away."

The truth was, beyond the financial aspect, there was another reason I wouldn't resign: a foolish, masochistic part of me wasn't ready to completely sever ties with Alexander. Seeing him every day was torture, but the idea of never seeing him again seemed even worse.

Pathetic, I know.

"At least you didn't go to the engagement dinner," Emma commented, trying to find a silver lining.

I grimaced at the memory of the event that had taken place last Saturday. As promised, I didn't attend, but I spent the entire night imagining Alexander and Victoria receiving congratulations, dancing, kissing...

"No, but I paid the price on Monday," I replied, remembering Alexander's cold email mentioning my "noted absence" and how it demonstrated a "lack of team spirit."

Emma was about to respond when my phone vibrated. It was a message from Michael Carter.

'Need to talk to you. It's important. Can I stop by your apartment tonight?'

I frowned, confused. Michael and I never had that kind of closeness. He had always been kind to me at work, but our interactions were limited to a professional setting.

"What is it?" Emma asked, noticing my expression.

I showed her the message, and she immediately raised her eyebrows.

"Michael Carter? Alexander's best friend? What does he want with you?"

"I have no idea," I replied, equally intrigued.

"Maybe it's a trap," Emma suggested, always suspicious. "Alexander might be using him to spy on you, see if you're planning something."

I considered the possibility. It wouldn't be the first time Alexander used other people to get what he wanted.

"Or maybe he really has something important to say," I pondered. "Michael always seemed... different from the other executives. Less calculating."

"Still, be careful," Emma advised. "Men like them don't do anything without ulterior motives."

I nodded, typing a quick response to Michael.

'Ok. 8pm. Text me when you arrive.'

I spent the rest of the afternoon reorganizing the same reports Victoria had asked me for the third time that week. My brain, once occupied with innovative marketing strategies and complex market analyses, was now numb with boredom and repetition.

At 5:30 PM, Victoria appeared next to my cubicle, impeccable in her Prada dress and Louboutin heels that probably cost more than my monthly rent.

"Sophia, darling," she began in her falsely sweet tone. "I need you to stay late tonight. We have that presentation for the Japanese client on Monday, and the slides need to be redone."

I looked at her, incredulous. "Redone? I spent the whole week working on them. You approved them yesterday."

Victoria shrugged, indifferent. "I changed my mind. I want a cleaner look, less text, more images. And I need it by tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow is Saturday," I protested.

"Yes, and?" She arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Any problem working on the weekend? You used to do it all the time when you were director."

'When I was director.' As if it were a past life, a distant dream.

"I have commitments tonight," I replied, thinking of Michael's visit.

Victoria smiled, and there was something predatory in that smile. "What a shame. Cancel them."