جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 20

Sophia couldn't sleep. She laid in bed staring at the ceiling, her mind replaying dinner over and over again, every word, every glance, every shift in tone dissected with brutal precision. She wasn’t supposed to slip. Not like that. Not in front of anyone, especially not someone like Emma. And yet she had. Worse, David had seen it. Understood it and covered for her. That part bothered her the most. She didn’t need saving. She didn’t need protection. And she definitely didn’t need him stepping into spaces she hadn’t given him permission to enter. By morning, she was already dressed, already composed, already back in control. Or at least, she forced herself to believe she was. When she stepped into the kitchen, David was there again. Same as yesterday. Like he had already settled into a rhythm she hadn’t approved. He glanced up once, taking in her expression, then went back to pouring coffee. “You’re up early,” he said. “I don’t sleep in,” she replied. “You don’t sleep at all,”

Sophia's POVThe invitation arrived via courier the next morning—thick cream card, gold-embossed Ashford crest, Aunt Melissa’s elegant script.**Family Dinner – Couples Night** **This Saturday, 7:00 p.m.** **The Estate** **Sophia & David • Sophie & Jake** **Dress: Formal**I stared at the card like it was a live grenade.David read it over my shoulder. “They’re not subtle.”“They never are.” I set the card down. “It’s a trap. Psychological warfare. They want to see if we crack under pressure.”He took the card, studied it. “We go. We don’t crack.”I met his eyes. “You sure?”“I’m sure.” He set the card aside. “We show up. We play the part. We leave them wondering what hit them.”Saturday evening arrived too fast.I dressed in black velvet—long sleeves, high neck, slit up one leg just enough to remind everyone I wasn’t here to be tamed. Diamonds at my throat. Red lipstick sharp as a blade.David waited in the foyer—tuxedo tailored to perfection, dark hair swept back, ice-blue e

Sophia's POV Emma showed up unannounced the following Saturday afternoon, exactly one week after the nightmare that had cracked something open inside me. The penthouse doorbell chimed while I was still in yoga pants and an oversized sweater, hair in a messy knot, pretending I hadn’t spent the morning staring at case files instead of resting like David kept gently insisting I should.David answered the door.Emma breezed past him like she’d lived here her whole life. “Hi, future sister-in-law! I brought snacks and zero patience for bullshit today.”I blinked from the living room couch, where I’d been half-heartedly scrolling through emails. “Hello?”She held up two bulging paper bags like trophies. “Chips—multiple flavors because indecision is real—chocolate bars, those weird fancy sparkling waters you like, microwave popcorn, and emergency ice cream. We’re having a girls’ night. David’s banished to Mom’s for the evening.”David leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyebrow rais

The rain had finally stopped by Sunday morning. Sunlight slanted through the penthouse windows—pale, hesitant, like it wasn’t sure it was welcome. I woke early, as always, but for once David was still asleep beside me. Arm slung across my waist. Breathing slow and deep.I watched him for a minute—dark lashes against his cheek, faint scar above his eyebrow, mouth slightly open. Peaceful. Human. Mine.The thought hit harder than it should have.I slipped out of bed carefully. Padded to the kitchen in bare feet. Started coffee. The routine grounded me.He appeared ten minutes later—hair messy, wearing only sweatpants, rubbing sleep from his eyes.“Morning,” he said, voice gravelly.“Coffee’s almost ready.”He came up behind me. Arms around my waist. Chin resting on my shoulder. Warm chest against my back.“You okay?” he asked quietly.I leaned into him. “Better than okay.”He kissed the side of my neck—soft, lingering. “Good.”We took our mugs to the living room couch. Sat close. Legs ta

Sophia’s POVMonday morning felt different.Not because the sun was brighter or the city quieter—it wasn’t—but because for the first time in twenty years, I woke up without the familiar knot of dread in my stomach. David was already in the kitchen, humming off-key to whatever song was playing through his phone speaker while he scrambled eggs. The smell of coffee and butter filled the penthouse.I leaned against the doorway, watching him.He glanced over his shoulder. “Morning, beautiful.”“Morning.” I padded over in bare feet, wrapped my arms around his waist from behind. Pressed my cheek to his back. “You’re cooking.”“You’re observant.” He turned in my arms, kissed my forehead. “Figured you could use real food after last night’s talk.”Last night’s talk.The memory of it—sitting on the couch, legs tangled, telling him every ugly detail of the accident—still felt raw. Exposed. But not terrifying. Not with him.I rested my chin on his chest. “Thank you.”“For eggs?”“For listening. Fo