Chapter 117 Chapter 117
Sophia’s POV
I stood in my father’s office, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, feeling the familiar burn of being dismissed and ignored.
“I’m not comfortable with Louis,” I repeated, my voice rising with frustration. “I don’t feel safe with him as the head guard here.”
“This isn’t about your comfort, Sophia,” my father said, his voice hard and final. “This is about security. About what’s best for everyone in this house, not just you.”
“But I’m your daughter!” I protested. “Doesn’t my opinion matter?”
“Not on security matters,” my father said bluntly. “Louis is the most qualified person for this position. He stays. End of discussion.”
“You never listen to me!” I shouted, tears of frustration stinging my eyes. “You never take my concerns seriously! I’m telling you something is wrong with Louis, and you just….”
“That’s enough,” my father interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “I have more important things to deal with right now than your personal issues with the security staff. You’re dismissed, Sophia.”
Dismissed. Like I was nothing. Like I was just an inconvenience he had to tolerate.
“Fine,” I said, my voice shaking with anger and hurt. “Fine. I don’t care anymore. Do whatever you want.”
I turned and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind me with enough force that it echoed through the hallway.
I stood there for a moment, breathing hard, trying to control the tears that threatened to spill over.
Nobody cared about me. Nobody listened. I was completely alone in this house full of people who either hated me or ignored me.
I started walking, not really paying attention to where I was going, just needing to move, to burn off some of this angry energy.
That’s when I rounded a corner and nearly collided with someone.
Vincent.
He was standing in the middle of the hallway, looking around with an odd expression on his face, his injured hand still bandaged but hanging at his side.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.
Vincent turned to look at me, seeming unsurprised by my sudden appearance. “Just giving myself a tour,” he said casually. “Getting familiar with the layout of the safehouse. I’ll be living here for a while, so I should know my way around.”
I studied him suspiciously. There was something about the way he spoke that sounds suspicious.
“Louis is supposed to give tours to new residents,” I said. “That’s his job.”
“Louis has been busy,” Vincent said with a slight smile. “Besides, I prefer to explore on my own. Get a feel for the place without someone hovering over me.”
He continued looking around, his eyes moving slowly across the hallway, and then he said something that made me stop.
“This safehouse looks much like the one we once lived in with Elena,” he said, his voice taking on a nostalgic quality.
I felt my breath catch. “What do you mean ‘looks like’? This IS the same safehouse. We’ve always been here.”
Vincent turned to look at me, and there was something odd in his expression. “Is it?”
“Yes,” I said, confused by the question. “This is where we spent summers when…” I trailed off, unable to finish.
“But your father did extensive work on it, didn’t he?” Vincent asked, still in that same casual tone. “Wiped this location off the radar.
Refurbished it externally. Changed things.”
“How do you know that?” I asked, my suspicion growing. “That was all done after my mother died. After you were already gone from our inner circle.”
Vincent smiled slightly. “Your father mentioned it in passing. Besides, I can see the changes.”
He walked a few more steps, running his hand along the wall, and then he said “It has been the same all along.”
I frowned, moving closer. “What did you say?”
Vincent looked at me, and for just a second, I saw something in his eyes something that looked almost like… regret? Fear? I couldn’t tell.
“What did you mean by that?” I pressed. “What’s been the same all along?”
“I meant to say you’re turning into the splitting image of your mother,” Vincent said quickly, his tone shifting to something warmer, more complimentary. “The resemblance is striking. Especially around the eyes.”
The sudden change of subject threw me off. “I… thank you?”
“Do you still miss her?” Vincent asked, his voice softer now. “Your mother?”
The question hit me like a physical blow. My throat tightened, and I felt tears burning behind my eyes again.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Because if I tried to speak, I’d break down completely, and I refused to cry in front of this man I barely knew.
Vincent seemed to understand my silence. He nodded slowly, his expression sympathetic.
“Of course you do,” he said quietly. “A daughter never stops missing her mother.”
He started to walk past me, heading back toward where I assumed his room was, but then he paused and turned back.
“Sophia,” he said, his voice taking on an odd, almost cryptic quality. “You’re impulsive and your impulsiveness might help you leave longer.”
I stared at him, completely confused. “What? What does that even mean?”
Vincent just smiled slightly, that same odd, knowing smile. “Just something to think about. Have a good evening, Sophia.”
He walked away, leaving me standing alone in the hallway, my mind spinning.
What the hell had that meant? Leave longer? Leave where? This house? This life?
And why had he said it like it was some kind of warning or prophecy?
I stood there for several minutes, trying to make sense of the conversation, trying to understand what Vincent had been trying to tell me.
But nothing made sense. Vincent had always been weird everyone knew that.
But this felt different. This felt like he was trying to tell me something.
I thought about his comment about the safehouse. “It has been the same all along.”
What did that mean? The safehouse was the same as what? As it used to be? As something else?
And why had he quickly changed the subject when I’d questioned him about it?
I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.
I was probably reading too much into it. Vincent was just a weird man who didn’t know how to have normal conversations. That’s all.