All Chapters of The Woman He Couldn’t Keep : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Francesca’s POVThe first thing I noticed was that Sophie’s bed was still made, and that alone told me something was wrong, because Sophie never made her bed.Sophie was always careless with her things. She left clothes on the floor, makeup scattered across her vanity and shoes wherever she happened to take them off. Mom complained about it constantly, but never made Sophie clean anything herself. This morning, the room looked untouched and too neat. I stood in the doorway, staring at the perfectly arranged pillows.“Sophie?”No answer. I stepped inside and glanced around the room. The curtains were open and her perfume still lingered in the air. Her phone charger was plugged into the wall, but her phone was gone. I crossed to the wardrobe and when I opened it, the entire section hung bare. “Sophie?”I pulled open another drawer. It was empty and her passport was gone too. She was gone, actually gone.I hurried downstairs. Mom was sitting at the breakfast table, scrolling through

Francesca’s POVI barely slept because I kept wondering why Julian reacted that way towards my pendant and when Sophie even had time to borrow it.I had almost forgotten about the necklace until he noticed it. It was one of the few pieces I had designed for myself, a thin gold chain with a small emerald pendant. I had worn it for years. I had no idea why he had looked at it that way. Or why, for a brief second, he seemed unsettled.By morning, I had convinced myself it meant nothing. I was halfway down the stairs when I heard shouting.“Let me through!”I stopped, my hand tightening on the railing. The voice was familiar.“Sophie.”I reached the bottom of the stairs just as the front doors opened. Sophie stood in the entrance looking different from the last time I had seen her. Her hair was styled perfectly, her makeup was flawless, and she wore a cream colored dress that made her look fragile and innocent. Exactly how she liked to look when she wanted people to feel sorry for her. Tw

Francesca’s POV I still couldn’t sleep much after I went back to my room. I stayed up all night tossing and turning. Time went by quickly and before I knew it, it was morning already. I lay there staring at the ceiling for a long time before I made myself get up, take a shower, and get dressed. I left my room, hoping not to run into Sophie, but well I was unlucky. Sophie was already in the hallway, arms crossed, watching me come down like she’d been waiting. “You look different today,” she said. “I look the same.” “No.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You look like someone who slept badly for a good reason.” “I don’t even know what that means and I don’t have the strength for tantrums this morning.” “Tantrums?” She said looking offended “Yes tantrums.” I repeated. “Julian left his room early this morning.” She tilted her head, studying me. “Where do you think he went?” “I have no idea.” I said “Neither do I. Isn’t that strange?” She smiled, “You’d think a husband would te

Francesca’s. POV “Let me help you up,” Julian said, reaching for my arm. I pulled it back before his hand could close around it. “I’m fine.” “You’re clearly not fine. You’re bleeding.” “Marta’s already getting the kit.” I looked past him, toward the top of the stairs. “I don’t need your help.” Marta returned a moment later with the first aid kit, and I let her clean the cut on my arm while Julian stood there watching. “I can carry you to your room. He said. “Your knee..” “I can walk.” I couldn’t, not easily, but I got up anyway, gripping the railing hard. Julian reached out again, and I stepped away from his hand before it landed. “Francesca.” “I’m fine, Julian.” I made it up the remaining stairs on my own, even though I was slower. I didn’t hear from Julian again until a few days passed. I was in the drawing room, sketching, when he appeared in the doorway. “How’s your knee?” He asked. “Healing.” “Good.” He didn’t come in but he stood there for a moment, the

Francesca’s POVA few days passed quietly after the argument I’d overheard. Sophie kept her distance, and I finally got some peace.I spent my evenings in the garden again, sketching. One evening, Julian found me there and sat across. “You’ve been drawing that same design for a week,” he said.“It’s not right yet.”“What’s wrong with it?”I turned the sketchbook toward him. A ring, delicate, the stone setting slightly off-center on purpose. “The placement, It looks unfinished.”“It looks okay to me.” He said “Well it doesn’t to me.”He looked at the picture for a while before saying, “Can I borrow this page of the ring?“Why? I asked “I want to show it to someone.”“Who?” I asked suspiciously“Nobody important. Just someone I know.” He tore the page carefully, folded it once and stood. “You’ll get it back.” I didn’t ask again. He left with the sketch and I sat wondering what he was up to.Three days later, a small box arrived at my door, no note attached. Marta brought it up herse