Sophia’s POV

When we got back to the estate, Damon didn’t even look at me.

He walked Natalie straight upstairs like she belonged there, one hand steady on her back while she complained softly about feeling sick. He called for the chef on the way and told him to prepare her favorite dishes.

Like she was fragile.

Like she mattered.

I stood near the entrance with my suitcase still in hand, watching it all unfold like I was just passing through someone else’s life.

As he came back down, he slowed for half a second when he saw me heading toward the guest wing.

Then, without looking at me properly, he said to the staff, “Add two more dishes. Sophia’s favorites. Set a third place.”

I stopped walking.

For a second, I almost laughed.

Was that supposed to mean something?

An apology? A peace offering?

He couldn’t remember our anniversary properly, couldn’t even remember the last conversation we had without Natalie in it—but suddenly he knew my favorite dishes?

It felt insulting in a quiet way.

Like scraps thrown at a dog that had already learned the door was closed.

I didn’t respond. I just kept walking.

---

The guest room was cold when I stepped in.

Not temperature-wise. Just… empty.

I closed the door behind me and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

This wasn’t my home anymore. It hadn’t been for a while.

I dropped my suitcase on the bed and knelt to unzip it, already planning how fast I could leave once everything was ready.

But the moment I opened it, my hands went still.

My clothes.

Torn. Shredded. Ruined beyond repair.

Someone had taken their time with it—clean cuts, deliberate, almost careful.

My stomach dropped.

Then I saw it—my passport and documents tucked deep in the lining, untouched.

A warning, not a mistake.

My throat tightened.

Natalie.

Of course.

I didn’t even have the energy to feel shocked. Just tired.

I shoved whatever I could salvage into the bag, movements quick now. I couldn’t stay here longer than necessary.

That was when the door creaked open.

I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Natalie,” I said flatly.

She stepped inside like she owned the place, one hand holding a small black bottle, her expression relaxed—almost bored. Her eyes scanned the room, then landed on me with a slow smile.

“Wow,” she said. “Still here.”

I stood up slowly.

She tilted her head. “After everything, you’re still clinging to him like this? It’s kind of embarrassing, Sophia.”

I didn’t answer.

She walked further in, inspecting the room like she was judging its worth.

“Oh,” she added casually, like she was talking about the weather. “Your grandmother died last month, right?”

My fingers went cold.

She smiled wider when she saw my reaction.

“You begged him to let you see her,” she continued. “You were practically on your knees, weren’t you?”

My jaw tightened.

Natalie lifted her phone, tapping the screen. “Do you know where he was that day?”

She didn’t wait for me to answer.

“We went to the coast. Helicopter ride. Sunset dinner. He was with me.”

She turned the screen toward me.

A photo.

Damon kissing her.

The world tilted, just slightly.

My chest tightened so hard it hurt to breathe.

I remembered that day too clearly. The begging. The panic. The way I’d asked him just to let me say goodbye.

And he said no.

Because he was busy.

With her.

Something inside me cracked, slow and deep, like glass finally giving way under pressure.

Natalie watched me carefully, like she was waiting for me to break completely.

“You really didn’t matter as much as you thought,” she said softly.

Silence stretched.

Then something in me snapped.

“You think this is funny?” I said quietly at first.

She smiled. “A little.”

My hands curled into fists.

“You tore through my life like it was nothing,” I said, voice rising. “You took everything and you still stand there smiling like you won something?”

Her expression barely changed.

“I already won,” she said simply.

That did it.

I stepped forward.

“You have nothing,” I said sharply. “You’re just noise. A mistake he keeps entertaining because he’s bored.”

Her smile twitched.

“And one day,” I added, voice shaking but steady, “he’s going to look at you and realize that too.”

Sophia's POV

She shrugged, smug. “Still more than you.”

That was it.

I slapped the phone out of her hand. It hit the floor with a sharp crack.

Natalie barely had time to react before I grabbed her.

My hand went straight for her throat.

We both stumbled back, knocking into the bedside table. Something rolled across the floor—then the sharp, unmistakable smell hit me.

Gasoline.

My stomach dropped.

“Natalie—what did you—”

The bottle tipped fully, spilling out across the carpet.

She smiled.

Then a spark.

I didn’t even see what caused it—just a flash, then fire.

It erupted fast, crawling up the curtains, licking the walls like it had been waiting for this moment.

“Stop—!” I coughed, backing away as smoke filled the room.

Natalie grabbed my arm, pushing, shoving, both of us scrambling as the fire grew between us like a living thing.

The heat was unbearable. My lungs burned on the first breath.

Somewhere in the chaos, she screamed.

And I fell.

---

“Sophia!”

The voice cut through the roar of flames.

I forced my eyes open through the smoke.

Damon.

He was at the doorway, shouting, fighting with security as they tried to hold him back.

“Sir! You can’t go in—!”

“Get out of my way!”

My heart twisted painfully.

For one stupid second, I thought—

He came for me.

“Damon!” I tried to lift myself. My voice broke. “I’m here!”

Natalie’s voice rang out immediately behind me, weak and perfect.

“Damon… please… help me…”

Everything changed in his expression.

That was all it took.

He ran past me.

Straight to her.

He didn’t even look back.

---

I don’t know how long I stayed there after that.

The smoke got thicker. Heavier. My vision blurred until everything turned into heat and noise.

And then something in me snapped into survival.

I don’t even remember deciding.

One moment I was choking on the floor.

The next—

Pain.

Bones shifting. Skin tearing. Breath turning into something deeper, instinctive.

I changed.

The world sharpened instantly. Sound. Smell. Movement.

Fire wasn’t just fire anymore—it was a wall I could read, a path I could escape.

I grabbed my bag with my teeth and ran.

Glass shattered as I threw myself through a window. It sliced into my side, but I didn’t stop.

I landed hard outside, rolling into the grass, coughing violently.

Alive.

Barely.

I didn’t look back at the burning house.

I just ran.

Through a side path. Through darkness. Through pain I didn’t have time to feel.

Until I found a service gate left open.

And I kept going.

Even when my legs gave out.

Even when my lungs felt like they were tearing apart.

I didn’t stop until the estate was gone behind me.

---

The flight terminal was quiet.

Too quiet.

I sat in the corner seat, wrapped in a borrowed coat, my hands still shaking slightly.

My phone buzzed.

Damon.

Don’t play games, Sophia. I don’t have time for hide-and-seek.

I stared at the screen.

No anger.

No sadness.

Just… nothing.

Then I turned the phone off.

Damon’s POV

[Tomorrow at 10 AM, Natalie’s prenatal exam. You’ll accompany her. And get your lungs checked while you’re at it.]

No reply.

Not even a read receipt.

At the time, I didn’t think much of it. Sophia liked to ignore messages when she was upset. She always came back around.

But this time… the silence felt different.

---

The next morning, the clinic was quiet except for soft voices and the smell of antiseptic.

Natalie was clinging to my arm the moment we arrived.

“Damon, is everything okay? Is the baby fine?”

I nodded. “Doctor said everything’s stable. No issues from the fire.”

She exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for days. “Thank God…”

I should’ve felt relieved too.

Instead, my mind kept drifting.

Sophia’s face. That last look in the smoke-filled hallway. Not fear. Not anger.

Just acceptance.

Like she already knew I wouldn’t choose her.

And the worst part was—I hadn’t.

---

After lunch, I dropped Natalie back at the estate and went straight to the council hall.

My phone stayed silent the entire drive.

Too silent.

My beta caught up as I stepped inside.

“Sir, Chairman Morgan has returned. Summit starts tonight.”

I nodded without slowing down.

But something in my chest tightened.

Sophia still hadn’t been found.

No movement. No exit records. No sightings at the gates.

Nothing.

Like she’d simply stopped existing inside the system.

“She didn’t go to the clinic?” I asked.

“No, Sir.”

“Home?” I tried again.

“No.”

My jaw tightened. “Then where the hell is she?”

No one answered.

Because no one knew.

---

As I walked faster, I spoke over my shoulder, “Buy a few new designer pieces. Jewelry too.”

“For Mrs. Natalie?” my assistant asked.

I paused just long enough for the words to feel wrong.

“…Send them to the Sterling estate.”

If Sophia was anywhere, it would be there.

But even as I said it, something uneasy settled in my stomach.

And I hated that I couldn’t explain why.

---

A week passed.

Work. Meetings. Strategy reports. Border disputes.

Normal things.

Except nothing felt normal.

It was just after midnight when I returned from a long session with the patrol division.

The house was dark except for one light in the living room.

A figure curled on the sofa in silk.

For a second, my chest loosened.

“Sophia,” I said under my breath, almost amused. “I told you… I always come back. You don’t have to—”

I stopped.

It wasn’t her.

It was Natalie.

She looked up slowly, her face softening into disappointment when she saw me.

“Damon…” Her voice wavered. “She still hasn’t come back. Not even once.”

I exhaled and loosened my tie.

“She’s just being dramatic,” I said.

But it came out flatter than I intended.

Natalie sniffed, eyes glossy. “I even apologized. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me. Maybe I should leave.”

I sat beside her and kissed her forehead out of habit more than anything else.

“Don’t stress yourself,” I said quietly. “It’s not good for the baby.”

Then, after a pause, I added, “This is your home now. Yours and the child’s.”

A beat.

“…Whether Sophia likes it or not.”

The words should’ve felt final.

They didn’t.

---

Later that night, I stood alone on the terrace.

Cold air. City lights below. Silence everywhere else.

I lit a cigarette for the first time in years.

I wasn’t even sure why.

It didn’t calm me.

Nothing did.

My phone was in my hand before I realized it.

Sophia’s name sat at the bottom of my contacts.

Still there.

Still untouched.

My thumb hovered over the call button.

I didn’t press it.

Instead, I typed:

Tomorrow is Chairman Morgan’s 80th birthday. Don’t cause a scene. Don’t provoke Natalie or the child.

I stared at it for a moment before sending.

Waiting.

For what, I didn’t know.

The wind hit harder across the terrace.

My chest tightened again, sharp and unfamiliar.

It’s just stress, I told myself.

Nothing else.