Novel & Cerita Saving Sophie: A Novel

I pull my face out of her grasp, yanking on my restraints, desperately trying to break free so that I could tear the bitch limb from limb. “You were supposed to be with him on that plane!” Sophie shouts. “After all the pain you put me through, you both deserved to die, but then I found out he went alone, and when he survived and lost his memory, that was my chance to win him back, but you…” I wince when she grabs me by the throat and squeezes tight cutting off my oxygen. “You manipulated him and stole him from me again!” Sophie barks, digging her nails into my flesh before she lets go, and I suck in a lung full of air.

Alexander “Why are you the one driving?” Sophie mumbled after a moment of silence. “Is that your way of saying thank you?” She swallowed hard. “Thank you.” “You're not much of a sub, are you?” She threw a glance at me; obviously surprised that I asked her that. The truth is, there's absolutely nothing I do not know about her. Sophie is a lover of bread; loves to play golf, and would have been a model if she hadn't become so engrossed in the corporate world.

Ivy muttered, going to get the dog. When she brought the dog, Gena made it lick the tea and everyone watched earnestly to see what would happen. Sophia wept. She knew this was a conspiracy to destroy her, these three girls planned this evil against her, what did she do to them? The dog started barking funnily, after some moments, it fell on the floor and stretched its legs in everlasting rest. Sophia covered her face and wished for death to come, the shame is just too much. "What do you have to say about this, Sophia?" Mrs Smith asked.

The SoHo café smelled of buttery croissants and freshly brewed coffee, bustling with artists and writers Luna would sneer at as "common." Sophia sat in a corner booth, hidden by lush potted ferns, her grip tight on the briefcase locked beside her ankle. She’d swapped her power blazer for a soft, oversized cardigan, her hair loose and framing her face—carefully playing the part of a desperate wife, not the ruthless strategist she had become.

Each knock was a release, a scream I couldn’t let out. My pack was suffering, that boy’s cries still echoing in my skull, and Damon’s promises were crumbling like ash. I was done being invisible, done being the silent surrogate carrying his child while he ignored me and let my people bleed. The door creaked open, and Sophie stood there, her perfect auburn hair catching the sunlight like a halo. Her smile was syrupy, too sweet, as her eyes locked onto mine. “Anna,” she said, voice dripping with false warmth, “what brings you here?” Her gaze was sharp, calculating, slicing through me like a blade.

She is a fantastic mom and wife. “They blame her for what happened to her mom. Sophie was five when her mom died in a car crash. Sophie was also in that car. She blames herself. Her father and brother blame her as well. These men think they are big and tough for beating a little girl, broken bones, bruises, you name it. Now they sold her to someone. Momma is using her contacts with the Mothers Revenge to find out where they are and who they sold Sophie to. So when you are out in town, keep your eyes open. They are unhinged, so be careful. Take a good look at these mugs gentlemen I want them, I want to play with them.” I say, and the men chuckle. They know how I get when we are hunting.

Sophie reminded me so much of Lily that I couldn’t stay away. Every time the little girl laughed or ran through the hallway with her curly hair bouncing, it felt like a knife twisting in the emptiness inside me. Lily would be old now, probably gone, but Sophie was here. Alive. Seeing me. Talking to me. Choosing me. I began testing small disturbances around the house, not to scare them away, but to stay close to her. To make them feel me. To make Sophie’s parents understand that I was real.

I wiped the tears from my face, suddenly calming down as I said, "Did you know? I'm actually an orphan. I once wished to stay here forever. After all, compared to the cash reward and everything in the real world, your love was what I craved most." My gaze swept across these people, who were in immense pain. "But I've found a new home and people who truly care about me. I won't stay here anymore. If worst comes to worst, I'll just die again. This life was never really mine to begin with!" Sophie loosened her grip, the obsession in her gaze gradually turning into despair. "I'll let you go… I'll let you go…" Letting go of me, Sophie suddenly picked up the paring knife on the floor and plunged i

But now he was gone and I kept thinking about all the things I could've done. I noticed Sophie was acting strange. Jumpy, nervous, always looking over her shoulder. At first I thought it was just the atmosphere, the heaviness of it all. But she didn't look one bit affected by the death or the atmosphere. She'd flinch at sudden sounds, avoid eye contact, and rush out the door the second her shift ended. "Sophie," I called out one afternoon as she grabbed her bag. "Everything okay?" She froze, her hand on the door. "Yeah. Fine."

"The martyr routine. You tried? You call leaving your husband on the night his daughter is buried trying, Jane? You’ve been looking for an excuse to punish me for years, and you finally found one." "An excuse?" My voice rose, a flash of raw pain breaking through my cold exterior. "Sophie is dead, Murphy! Our little girl is gone because you couldn’t be bothered to answer your phone. Because you were too busy playing savior to your assistant. I am not punishing you. I am surviving you."