Chapter 6

Sophia sat on the bed, staring at her shaking hands. The room felt suffocating, the curtains and furniture closing in.

“Try to sleep,” Richard had said. As if she could, with him planning her death.

The psychiatrist appointment is on Monday. The will change tomorrow at two. Vincent Romano, the same last name as her parents’ killers already working with Richard to “move faster.”

Every breath felt like swallowing glass.

Downstairs, Richard’s voice was calm and steady, like discussing business. Clinical. Efficient. Planning her death as if it were a deal.

How long? The question circled her mind. How long had he planned this? Since their first date? Their wedding? The day he charmed her in that college coffee shop?

Their whole relationship was a lie—a love story hiding murder.

Shaking, Sophia went to the dresser. The mirror showed a hollow-eyed ghost—pale and fragile—like a woman ready to die.

Had they planned that too?

Her hands shook as she opened the jewelry box, remembering the hidden recorder. How many private talks had they taped? How many tears used to prove her “decline”?

Tucked among pearls and sapphire bracelets was a small white pill bottle she didn’t know.

Her blood ran cold. The label read: Sophia Blackwood – Sertraline 50mg – Take one daily for depression and anxiety.

She had never been given antidepressants. Never talked to a doctor about depression. But now there it was—a half-empty bottle making it look like she had been taking pills for weeks. Pills that could back up Richard’s story about her being unstable. Pills that could also cover up murder if he poisoned them.

“Smart,” she whispered at her reflection, the word sounding strange in the heavy silence.

They had planned it all. Hidden recorders, a fake medical history, even medication to leave behind proof. Dr. Morrison already knew her “problems” before she had even agreed to meet him.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from an unknown number: Looking forward to our session Monday. Your husband told me about your recent episodes. We’ll work through this together. – Dr. Morrison

Sophia’s phone slipped from her hand, clattering against the nightstand. Even the psychiatrist was in on Richard’s lies, twisting the truth so carefully it almost made her doubt herself.

But she wasn’t insane. They were carefully tearing her apart, step by step.

She sank onto the bed, the pill bottle clutched so hard her fingers ached. Suddenly, all those little moments made sense, charity events where he’d called her fragile, dinner parties where he joked about her “moods,” the pitying looks from friends she never understood.

For years, he’d been carefully painting her as unstable.

A soft knock at the bedroom door made her jump.

“Sophia?” Richard’s voice came, soft and caring. “Are you okay, darling?”

“I’m fine,” she answered quickly, slipping the pill bottle back into the jewelry box. “Just lying down like you told me to.”

“Business,” Sophia thought darkly. Probably more plotting.

“When will you be home?”

“Late. Don’t stay awake for me.”

His footsteps faded, the front door shut, and silence filled the penthouse. But instead of feeling safe, Sophia felt caged.

She needed air, a place to breathe. Somewhere far from Richard’s control and hidden eyes.

She picked up her purse and headed for the door but stopped as a thought hit her.

What if she couldn’t really leave?

What if Richard’s control went beyond her money and her name? What if even the penthouse was part of the trap?

Her fingers twisted on the doorknob. It turned easily, and she almost laughed in relief until a man in a dark suit blocked her way

“Mrs. Blackwood,” he said smoothly, his hand resting on something heavy under his jacket. “Mr. Blackwood told me to be sure you stayed in tonight. He’s worried about your… health.”

The door closed firmly behind her. Her heart pounded as she stepped back, realizing the awful truth.

She wasn’t only married to the man who wanted her dead.

She was trapped as his prisoner.