Sophia's POVThe apartment I shared with Emma was wrapped in a rare domestic calm. Michael and I were curled up on the sofa, some movie serving as the backdrop for our kisses. His touch was gentle, a welcome contrast to the constant chaos that seemed to follow me. The scent of his cologne, now so familiar, mingled with the aroma of the dinner we had made together. It was one of those moments of peace that I was learning to savor.But a tiny unease began to gnaw at me. I looked at the clock on the living room wall."This is strange," I murmured, breaking the kiss. "Emma isn't usually out this late without sending a message. And she won that big case today, she should be celebrating."Michael pulled me closer, burying his face in my hair. "Don't worry, love. She's an adult. She's probably celebrating with Patrick. Or she went straight to his place."It made sense. Patrick, the stubborn detective who had become a constant presence in her life, despite her initial refusals. "Yeah, maybe,"
Emma's POVThe air in the Cook County District Court was charged with a tension you could cut with a knife. Twelve pairs of eyes stared at me from the jury, and across the room, PetroMax's lawyers looked like they'd stepped out of a catalog of expensive suits and corporate arrogance. But my eyes were fixed on my clients – the Miller family, sitting behind me. Mr. Frank, with his hands calloused from years of work in the workshop, twisting a Caterpillar cap. Mrs. Carol, discreetly dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. And their two teenage children, Jake and Lily, trying to look strong, but with fear etched on their young faces.Their home in a quiet residential neighborhood on the South Side, passed down through three generations, was threatened with demolition because the all-powerful PetroMax had discovered oil reserves underground. They were offering a pittance as "fair compensation," an amount that wouldn't even buy a studio downtown. They wanted them to disappear, quietly.But th
Sophia's POV Mark's confession hung in the air between us, heavy and warm. He still had his back to me, but he was no longer looking at the ceiling. His head was now tilted forward, his gaze lost on an indefinite point on the polished wooden floor."Did something happen? With your mother?" I asked, my voice little more than a whisper, fearing that any louder sound might break the fragile thread of his openness.He shook his head slowly, a gesture of profound weariness. "No. My mother is recovering well. Thank God." There was a pause, and he took a deep breath, as if gathering strength. "This... this is about me."Finally, he slowly swiveled the armchair to face me. His face was pale, his eyes marked by a vulnerability I had never seen in him. This was the Mark behind the executive's facade, the perfect son, the man who always seemed to have everything under control."From the first day," he began, his voice low but clear, "the day Irina introduced me to you, saying I would be your su
Sophia's POV My office at Pierce Holdings was quiet, too quiet. The low hum of the air conditioning seemed to amplify the whirlwind of thoughts in my head. The glass walls offered a stunning view of Chicago, but today the city seemed gray, shrouded in a fog of my own guilt. I leaned my forehead against the cool glass, feeling the weight of the last few days on my shoulders.The phone in my hand vibrated, and Emma's smiling photo appeared on the screen. I answered, desperately needing her sanity."Emma.""Soph, are you still thinking about that?" her voice got straight to the point, as always. "Stop. Enough of the self-punishment.""How can I stop, Emma? She fainted, looking at me as if I were a... a traitor." The word came out with difficulty."She fainted because she was in shock. A shock from a reality that her son stubbornly refused to tell them." Emma's voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "It's not your fault, Sophia. It's Mark's. He should have come clean a long time a
Sophia's POV The world slowed down until it stopped. The muffled scream, Mrs. Thompson's elegant body folding like a rag doll, her hand clutching her chest with desperate force. Every detail was imprinted on my retina with terrifying clarity."Ma'am!"My voice came out as a hoarse cry. I didn't think. I acted. I pushed myself from the edge of the pool, my wet feet slipping on the wooden deck, ignoring the water dripping from my body. I ran to her, landing on my knees beside her. Michael was right behind me, his presence an anchor in a moment of chaos."Mrs. Thompson! Please, breathe," I pleaded, holding her ice-cold hand. Her eyes, wide open and full of indescribable panic, were fixed on me. "Soph... Soph..." was all she could whisper, her voice a thread of raspy air. My name came out like an accusation, a lament."No, no, no," I repeated, mechanically, rubbing her hand, trying to convey some warmth, some comfort that I myself didn't feel. My heart hammered against my ribs, a drum of
Sophia's POV One month.One month since the meeting that changed everything. One month since Project Phoenix came to life and my nights were no longer just about work. One month since Michael showed up at my door in Chicago, with a suitcase and a hesitant smile, and I decided to take a leap of faith.The late afternoon sun in Chicago danced on the turquoise blue water of the infinity pool at The Aqua club, a place where money bought privacy and a stunning view of the skyline. I was lying on a white fabric lounger next to Emma, who was chattering animatedly while sipping a mocktail."...and then, my client, an heiress to a beer fortune, insisted that her pet parrot, a macaw named Bismarck, was the key witness in the divorce case! She swore up and down that the bird repeated her husband's conversations with his mistress." Emma paused dramatically, her eyes shining with amusement. "The judge, a serious man in his seventies, had to listen to a recording of Bismarck screaming 'Kissy, kiss