Chapter 133: Sophia's Mother

Arthur

My blood ran cold. "How do you know all this?"

Carter's expression turned bitter.

"Sophia's mother. My ex-fiancée's mother—she was taken by the Grey family when Sophia was young. Held for months before they finally let her go, and she's never been the same since. Just—broken. And for this reason, she often ignored Sophia's pleas for help when she was being bullied.

He looked at me, and I saw genuine fear in his eyes. "If Ceci's stepfather is part of that family, if Evelyn fled from them—now Cecilia and Daniel seem to be investigating Evelyn's cause of death—"

Understanding crashed over me like a wave of ice water.

"They think Ceci knows something," I said, my voice coming out hollow. "They think she's a threat."

"Or they want leverage," Max added grimly. "If they know who she is, who you are—they might be planning to use her to get to you, to get to Winston Corporation."

I felt like I couldn't breathe. Ceci was out there somewhere, in the hands of a criminal organization that specialized in making people disappear. That had the resources to disable surveillance cameras, to orchestrate kidnappings in broad daylight, to operate with complete impunity.

And I left her. I fucking left her alone and flew to California like an idiot.

I pulled out my phone, already dialing Ethan's number. He answered on the first ring.

"I need you to mobilize everything," I said. "Every Winston asset we have in the UK, every security team, every intelligence contact. I want eyes on the Grey family—their properties, their associates, their movements. Everything."

"Understood," Ethan said, his voice clipped, efficient tone that meant he was already making mental lists.

I hung up and turned to Carter and Max, who were both watching me with expressions that mixed concern and determination.

"I'm going to the UK," I said. "Tonight. As soon as Ethan has a location."

"We're coming with you," Max said immediately, his voice brooking no argument.

"Max—"

"Don't even try to talk us out of it," Carter interrupted. "Ceci's our friend too. And besides, you're going to need backup if you're planning to go up against the Grey family."

I looked at them—these two men who'd become like brothers to me over the years, who were willing to risk everything to help me find the woman I loved.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

Carter nodded. "That's what family does."

My phone buzzed with an incoming text from Ethan: Initial intel coming through. Grey family has a private estate in Yorkshire.

"Get your things," I said to Carter and Max. "We leave in one hour."

Cecilia

Pain dragged me back to consciousness like fishhooks in my flesh, sharp and insistent, refusing to let me sink back into merciful darkness.

My head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache that seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat.

I forced my eyes open despite the way my eyelids felt like they'd been weighted down with lead, blinking against dim light that filtered through heavy curtains. The room came into focus slowly—unfamiliar walls painted a nondescript beige, unfamiliar furniture that looked worn but clean, everything cast in shadows that made it impossible to tell whether it was day or night outside.

My mind struggled to piece together what had happened. The text from Daniel. Driving to the old house. His terrified shout telling me to run. The black SUV cutting me off, ramming into my side with brutal force. The world spinning, glass shattering, metal crunching—

And then nothing.

I pushed myself upright despite every muscle in my body protesting the movement, my hands gripping the edge of the mattress as the room tilted slightly before settling back into place.

I was still dressed in the clothes I'd been wearing—jeans torn at the knee, my shirt stained with what looked like dried blood, though whether it was mine or someone else's I couldn't tell.

The door opened without warning, and I tensed, my body going rigid with fear as I prepared to fight or flee or do whatever I needed to do to survive.

Then I saw who it was, and my brain short-circuited completely.

"Sophia?"

She stood in the doorway carrying a tray with what looked like tea and toast, her blonde hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, her face lighting up with obvious relief when she saw I was awake.

"Oh thank god," she breathed, hurrying into the room and setting the tray down on the dresser with hands that shook slightly. "You're finally up. I was starting to worry you might not wake up at all."

I stared at her, trying to make sense of this impossible situation.

"What the fuck is going on?" The words came out hoarse and sharp, my throat raw like I'd been screaming. "Where am I? Why are you here?"

Sophia's expression shifted into something complicated—relief mixed with guilt mixed with something else I couldn't quite identify. She moved closer but stopped when she saw me tense, holding up her hands in a placating gesture.

"You're safe," she said quickly, her voice gentle in a way that felt almost genuine. "I promise, you're safe. You're in my room, in—" She paused, seeming to struggle with how to phrase what came next. "In a place where certain people have influence. Bad people, but not the worst people, if that makes sense."

"It doesn't make any fucking sense," I said, my hands clenching into fists in the sheets. "Sophia, where the hell am I?"

She took a breath, her shoulders sagging slightly. "England. We're in England, in a district that's controlled by—well, by organized crime, basically. This is more like neutral territory, if you can call it that."

My blood ran cold. "England? Did they bring me here?"

"Yes, and I've been stuck here for days," Sophia said, her voice dropping lower as she glanced toward the still-open door like she was worried someone might overhear.

"The man who runs this place—the boss—he had me brought here not long after the moment my plane lands. I don't know why, I don't know what he wants from me. He just stares at me sometimes, like he's trying to figure something out, and then he tells me to leave."

She looked at me, and I saw genuine fear in her eyes. "Yesterday, I saw some of his men dragging you in. You were unconscious. I managed to convince them to let me take you instead, told them I'd take care of you."

I felt something twist in my chest—not gratitude exactly, but a reluctant acknowledgment that Sophia had potentially saved my life. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I owe you," she said simply. "Because of what happened at the villa, because of Madison, because of—" She stopped, her hands twisting together. "Because you're a decent person who didn't deserve any of this, and I'm trying to be better than I was."

The words hung in the air between us for a moment before I pushed past them, my mind racing through more immediate concerns. "Is there anyone else here? Another prisoner, maybe? A man around my age—"

Sophia's expression shifted into confusion. "No, I haven't seen anyone else. The men who brought you—they specifically said they'd found you on the side of the road, that you'd been in some kind of accident. Why?"

On the side of the road? Did those kidnappers dump me here?

Besides, where is Daniel?