Chapter 6

CH 6

POV: Sophia (Isabella)

The Mansion

The Hartwell estate did not look real.

Sophia had seen luxury on television,

In magazines.

On social media.

But nothing compared to standing before iron gates that opened silently at her arrival.

As if the world itself was making way for her.

The car rolled forward smoothly.

Her reflection stared back at her from the tinted window.

Calm.

Composed.

Hungry.

When the vehicle stopped, a uniformed attendant opened the door.

Sophia stepped out slowly.

The mansion rose before her—white stone walls, towering pillars, endless glass windows reflecting the late afternoon sun like mirrors.

For a second, her breath caught.

This is mine, she told herself.

Mine.

Julian walked beside her, watching her carefully.

“Nervous?” he asked gently.

Sophia lowered her eyes, allowing a small pause before answering.

“A little.”

The response pleased him.

She saw it in the softening of his expression.

Good.

Let them believe she was fragile.

Let them believe she needed protection.

Alexander remained a few steps ahead, speaking quietly with Daniel Reeves.

Even from behind, he looked intimidating.

Straight posture.

Measured steps.

Controlled.

Unreadable.

That one will be harder, Sophia thought.

But not impossible.

The grand doors opened as they approached.

Inside, the foyer stretched wide beneath crystal chandeliers.

Marble floors gleamed under soft golden light.

A sweeping staircase curved upward like something from a royal palace.

Staff members stood respectfully along the walls.

Some looked emotional.

Some curious.

Some skeptical.

Sophia felt every pair of eyes on her.

Measuring.

Judging.

Comparing her to a memory of a three-year-old child.

“Welcome home,” Julian said softly.

Home.

The word almost made her smile.

Almost.

Instead, she tightened her grip on her bag strap.

As if she didn’t feel like she belonged.

As if she were overwhelmed.

A performance.

And she was excellent at it.

A housekeeper approached carefully.

“Miss Hartwell, your room has been prepared.”

Miss Hartwell.

The title sent a thrill through her spine.

She followed the staff upstairs, aware of Alexander’s gaze lingering on her longer than the others.

Observing.

Calculating.

Later that evening, Sophia stood alone in a bedroom larger than the entire lower floor of her old house.

Silk curtains framed tall windows.

A king-sized bed sat in the center like a throne.

Fresh flowers rested on a polished table.

The wardrobe doors, when opened, revealed rows of new designer clothing already arranged for her.

She walked slowly toward the mirror.

Isabella Hartwell.

She repeated the name silently

Isabella.

Not Sophia.

Not anymore.

A knock came at the door.

Her heart skipped.

She turned.

Julian entered gently.

“I thought you might need this,” he said, holding out a small velvet box.

Sophia’s pulse quickened.

Had they discovered something?

Does he know?

She forced calm into her voice.

“What is it?”

Julian opened the box carefully.

Inside lay a delicate gold bracelet.

Simple.

Elegant.

“Our mother bought this when you were born,” he said quietly. “She kept it safe… just in case.”

Sophia stared at it.

This wasn’t staged.

This wasn’t strategy.

This was history.

Julian stepped closer.

“I know this is overwhelming,” he continued. “But we’re here now. You’re not alone.”

For a brief second—

Something uncomfortable twisted inside her chest.

Because he sounded sincere.

And she was not.

She lowered her gaze, allowing her voice to soften.

“Thank you… brother.”

The word felt foreign on her tongue.

Julian smiled faintly.

Alexander appeared in the doorway moments later.

His presence changed the air instantly.

“DNA results will take a few days,” he said evenly. “Until then, you’ll remain here.”

Remain.

Not belong.

Sophia caught the difference immediately.

Alexander’s sharp eyes studied her.

Too carefully.

He didn’t trust easily.

Good, she thought.

But you will.

After they left, Sophia closed the door quietly and exhaled.

The mask slipped for a moment.

She rushed toward the mirror.

Quickly pulling her hair aside, she examined the birthmark on her upper back.

The crescent moon.

Embracing a small star.

Perfectly drawn.

Perfectly placed.

Temporary.

But convincing

She smiled at her reflection.

Across the city, in a small quiet bedroom—

Elena lay awake.

The house felt emptier without Sophia.

And Victoria had been unusually silent all evening.

Elena stared at the cracked ceiling above her.

For reasons she couldn’t explain—

Her chest felt tight.

As if something important had just been taken.

And she didn't even know what it was yet