Chapter 223
Sophia
He tightened his arms around me. "We're a team, remember? I'll try to get back as quickly as possible."
Before I could respond, Jasper's cry echoed through the baby monitor. I immediately pulled away from Blake's embrace and rushed to the nursery, my heart racing. By the time I reached the crib, Jasper was wailing, his tiny face scrunched up and red.
I scooped him up, checking his diaper and feeling his forehead, a rush of protective instinct surging through me. "Shh, it's okay, mommy's here," I murmured, bouncing him gently in my arms.
Blake appeared in the doorway, watching us with a tender expression. "Need any help?"
"I've got him," I said, maybe a bit too quickly. "Why don't you go spend some time with Lily? She's been asking for you all day."
Blake nodded, but lingered for a moment. He came over and gently kissed Jasper's forehead. "Do you want me to take him for a bit?"
"No, I'm fine," I insisted, even as my arms ached with fatigue. "You go. I've got this."
As Blake left to find Lily, I continued rocking Jasper, whose cries were finally beginning to subside. "That's it, that's my good boy," I whispered.
From the doorway, I heard Blake's voice, soft and full of love. "Our little fighter," he said, gazing at us one last time before heading down the hall.
I tiptoed out of Jasper's nursery, carefully pulling the door until it was almost closed—just enough space to hear him if he cried.
My heart still raced every time I left his side, even though the doctors had assured us he was doing fine now. After five months in the NICU and a week at home, you'd think I'd be less paranoid, but nope. Every tiny cough or hiccup sent me running back to check on him like a goddamn fire alarm had gone off.
In the dim hallway, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, my chest tight with an anxiety that never seemed to fully disappear. Fuck, I'm so tired. Not just physically—though lugging around diaper bags and constantly being on high alert was exhausting as hell—but mentally.
My brain felt like scrambled eggs thrown against a wall, constantly bouncing between Jasper's feeding schedule, Lily's school projects, Emma's adjustment to our family, and the mountain of work emails I'd been ignoring that probably had Alex ready to strangle me.
Should I go back to work full-time or focus on being a mom? The question had been circling my mind for days, making me dizzy with indecision. I didn't want to be one of those neurotic helicopter moms who hovered over their kids constantly, counting every breath they took.
But Jasper was still so fragile, his tiny body fighting so hard.
Maybe I could sell half my stake in the company to Alex. That would give us financial security while allowing me more time with the kids. The thought of giving up what I'd built made my stomach clench and twist like someone had punched me in the gut, but wasn't that what motherhood was? Constant fucking sacrifice until you barely recognized yourself?
I made my way to the kitchen, surprised to find Mia sitting at the island counter, scrolling through her phone. My eighteen-year-old sister looked up and smiled—a genuine smile that reached her eyes, unlike the forced ones I'd seen too often since the kidnapping that made my heart break every time I saw them.
"Hey," I whispered, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. "Thanks for helping with Jasper and the girls today."
Mia shrugged. "No problem. Those girls are hilarious. You should've seen what they did with the markers I gave them."
"Oh shit, please tell me they didn't draw on the walls." The interior designer had charged us a fortune for that custom paint job—more than my first car cost, for Christ's sake.
"Relax," Mia laughed. "I gave them that giant sketch pad. Though Emma did try to convince Lily that the wall would make a better canvas."
We both giggled, and for a moment, it felt like old times—before Mexico, before the drugs, before everything went to hell in a handbasket. Mia looked better than she had in weeks. The dark circles under her eyes had faded, and she'd gained back some of the weight she'd lost. But I could still see something unsettled in her eyes, a wariness that hadn't been there before, like she was constantly ready for something terrible to happen.
I settled onto the stool beside her, trying to sound casual while my heart hammered with worry. "So... are you really okay now? After everything?"
Mia rolled her eyes. "You mean am I still doing drugs? No, Sophia, I'm clean. I'm fine."
I flinched at her bluntness, guilt stabbing through me. "Mia, I didn't—"
"It's okay," she interrupted, softening her tone. "I get it. You're worried. But that fancy rehab place actually worked. It wasn't that hard to quit, honestly."
I studied her face, looking for signs she might be lying, hating myself for being so suspicious but unable to stop the flood of protective panic that washed over me whenever I thought about what had happened. "Really? Because the doctors said withdrawal from whatever they gave you could be brutal."
"It wasn't fun," she admitted, fidgeting with her water bottle. "But I had good doctors, and they gave me meds to help with the symptoms. I'm past the worst of it now."
Relief flooded through me, warm and sweet, but it was quickly replaced by another worry that had been nagging at me, gnawing at my insides like a hungry rat. "And Mateo? How's that going?"
I watched her expression carefully. Mateo had appeared in her life suspiciously close to when all the trouble started, and something about him just felt... off. Like finding a piece of glass in your favorite dessert—you don't know how it got there, but you know it doesn't belong.
Mia's shoulders stiffened. "He's been great, actually. Really supportive through everything."
"I'm sure he has," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral and failing miserably. My tone dripped with skepticism I couldn't hide. "I just... I don't know, Mia. Something about him doesn't seem right to me."
"What's that supposed to mean?" The defensive edge in her voice was unmistakable, sharp enough to cut.
I sighed, knowing I was treading on thin ice but unable to stop myself. My protective instincts were screaming too loudly to ignore. "Don't you think it's weird how he just happened to be gone when you were kidnapped? And how he somehow knew details about our family that you say you never told him? I mean, come on, Mia. That shit doesn't add up."
"Jesus fucking Christ, Sophia!" Mia slammed her water bottle down, water splashing onto the counter. "He was set up, okay? Someone sent him fake messages from me saying I'd gone home early."
"That's convenient," I muttered, my stomach churning with unease.
"He's not like the Sterling men, if that's what you're worried about," Mia snapped, her eyes flashing with anger. "He actually had a shitty childhood. His father abandoned him when he was a kid. He's nothing like your fancy Sterling in-laws with their private jets and billion-dollar scandals."
I felt my own anger rising, hot and sharp in my chest. "This isn't about Blake's family. This is about your safety. Those kidnappers knew everything, Mia. Our routines, where we lived, even about Blake's business deals. How the hell do you explain that?"
"Oh my God, are you seriously accusing Mateo of setting me up to be kidnapped?" Her eyes widened in disbelief, hurt flashing across her face. "Not everyone is out to get you and your perfect little life, Sophia! The world doesn't revolve around you and your paranoia!"
"Perfect?" I laughed bitterly, the sound scraping my throat like broken glass. "My son just spent five fucking months fighting for his life in the hospital! My marriage barely survived! You think that's perfect? Are you kidding me right now?"