Chapter 4: Everything Falls Apart

~Sophia's POV~

"Shit!!"

That was the first thing in my head when my eyes snapped open. "Don’t look at him. Just run before he wakes up."

Sunlight traced the ridges of his bare back in warm gold. The room smelled of his cologne—spiced cedar with something darker—and my stomach flipped at last night’s memories. God. I’d been reckless. Shameless. Heat still clung to my skin like an accusation. I eased from the bed, wincing with each shift of the mattress, careful not to disturb the comforter tangled around his hips.

"Just leave. Pretend none of this happened."

But then—A flash of how good it felt stopped me. His mouth tracing every line of me like he was memorizing it. His hands steady and sure. His voice saying my name like a promise… and a dare. The memory rolled through me like heat blooming under my ribs.

“…dammit,” I whispered.

I fished three crisp hundred-dollar bills from my purse and set them on his nightstand. The bills fluttered slightly in the soft morning breeze coming through the cracked window. I scribbled a note—quick, sharp strokes of a pen betraying my shaking fingers.

'Thanks for the services.' – S

And then I ran.

The moment I stepped into my parents’ house—still smelling of fresh coffee and polished wood—my mother pounced.

“Where were you all night? Sophia, do you know how worried Kiara was?”

I dropped my purse. “She was worried? She slept with Damin!”

My father’s eyebrows shot up, deepening the stern lines on his face. “Lower your voice.”

“No! Why are you two acting like I’m the crazy one? She stole my fiancé!”

I thought my parents would take my side, but to my shock, my father took hers. “You should let Kiara and Damin be together.”

My mother exchanged a weary look with him, the kind that carried years of unspoken agreement. “Maybe it’s for the best. Kiara and Damin have always had… chemistry.”

I stared at her. “You want them together?”

“She’s been fragile since she was young,” my mother said softly, as if the word fragile was holy. “We just want her to have stability.”

“You’re doing it again.” My throat tightened, the familiar ache clawing its way up. “Taking her side. Like always. She’s the one who stole my fiancé! She’s been taking everything from me since we were kids!”

My father’s jaw twitched—a warning. “We spoiled you too much. You resent her happiness because of it.”

Something cold slid into my chest like melting ice. “Let me ask you something,” I murmured. “If you could only keep one daughter, would you choose her over me?”

The room went silent—heavy, suffocating, like the air before a storm.

Then my father, clearly embarrassed and angry, shouted, “You’re jealous, selfish, and cruel. You’ll never be happy until you drive your sister away!”

“Okay.” I lifted my purse, holding it like armor. “She doesn’t need to leave. I’ll go.”

“Sophia!” he shouted after me.

But I didn’t stop. Ignoring my father’s furious shouts, I pushed open the door and left.

“Sophia! Come back here!” he yelled, but I refused to turn around.

Outside, the cold morning air slapped my face, but it grounded me. My hands were cold, but my steps stayed firm. 'It’s fine. It’s fine. You still have jewelry. You still have your dream.'

Repeating it felt like clinging to a life raft in a storm.

Jewelry had always been my one true love—shimmering stones, delicate metalwork, the quiet thrill of shaping something beautiful from raw pieces. I’d never gone to college, yet I’d dreamed endlessly of becoming a jewelry designer. This year, I finally touched that dream: my cheetah-inspired necklace—crafted with my own recessed-carving technique—had won the Aurelia Jewelry Design Prize in Las Vegas.

I could still remember the weight of it in my hands the moment I finished it—sleek, fierce, alive.

Sometimes I caught myself murmuring, “I actually won… I did that,” just to believe it was real.

A few days ago, during a family dinner, the award committee contacted me asking for a personal photo.

“Miss Sophia, could we have a picture for the official announcement?”

“I… no, thank you. I’d rather stay anonymous,” I’d replied, offering a polite smile while hiding my nerves.

They didn’t know that even the name I’d submitted was fake. I wanted people to admire the art, not pick apart the artist. To love the creation without knowing the messy, imperfect hands behind it.

But now… everything had changed.

I don’t have much time left, I reminded myself, feeling the sharp truth settle deep in my chest. A quiet, constant reminder. Before I leave this world, I want them to know it was me. Sophia.

I exhaled, steadying myself. “I’ll tell them the truth. No more hiding.”

Just as I was about to reach out to the committee, a T*****r notification popped up. “What now?” I muttered, checking my phone.

The bold headline Bellmont Jewelry Design Prize Winners instantly caught my eye.

“This is it…” My fingers trembled as I tapped into the post.

My heart pounded while I scrolled down, recognizing pieces, searching for mine. And then—there it was. My golden cheetah necklace, its emerald-green eyes glinting with pride even through the screen, every curve exactly as I’d carved it.

A soft exhale escaped me. “That’s mine,” I whispered, a small, hopeful smile forming.

My gaze shifted to the designer’s photo beside it—

It was Kiara’s face staring back at me.

I didn’t feel my phone slip from my fingers. Didn’t hear it hit the floor.

All I felt was the ground tilting, like the earth had dropped out from under me.

And then at the bottom of the page—a tag:

Hosted by the Bellmont Foundation with sponsorship from Virelli Caldris.

My breath caught. “Oh,” I whispered. “Of course.”