Chapter 85 Chapter 85
Sophia’s POV
I should have stayed quiet. Should have accepted my father’s words and just sat there in silence like the obedient daughter I was supposed to be.
But I couldn’t.
Something inside me snapped, and before I could stop myself, I was on my feet again, my hands slamming down on the table.
“I’M SORRY!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry about everything! I’m sorry about Tyler, I’m sorry about the attack, I’m sorry about Marco! I’ve said I’m sorry a thousand times! But going to my mother’s safe house living in her space, surrounded by her things, her property… I CAN’T DO IT!”
“Sophia, sit down,” my father ordered again.
“No!” I screamed. “You don’t understand! That place is all I have left of her! Every room, every piece of furniture, every picture on the wall she chose all of it! She loved that place! And now you’re going to bring her there?” I pointed at Hailey again. “You’re going to let your replacement move into my mother’s sanctuary?”
“That’s enough!” my father’s voice thundered.
“How can you be so selfish?” Barbara’s voice cut through, sharp and condemning. “Your father is trying to protect all of us, and you’re worried about a house? About furniture and memories? People’s lives are at stake!”
“You don’t understand….” I started.
“No, YOU don’t understand!” Benita jumped in, her voice raw with emotion. “You’re standing here crying about a house while Marco is DEAD! While seventeen guards are DEAD! While we’re all traumatized and scared! And you’re worried about protecting your mother’s memory?”
She stood up, her whole body shaking with rage.
“Your mother is GONE!” Benita screamed. “She’s been gone for years! But Marco just died! HE’S DEAD! And you have the audacity to stand here and make this about you and your feelings about a fucking HOUSE?”
“Benita…” Hailey said softly, trying to calm her.
“No!” Benita interrupted. “She needs to hear this! She needs to understand that the world doesn’t revolve around her pain! We’re all suffering! We’re all scared! But she’s the only one selfish enough to put her feelings above everyone’s safety!”
Even Isabella spoke up then, her voice cold and disappointed.
“Sophia, you have no right to protest,” she said. “Not after what you’ve done. Your father is making the best decision for this family’s safety. You will go where he tells you to go. End of discussion.”
I looked around the table at all of them my grandmother, Benita, Barbara, Hailey, my father. All of them united against me. All of them looking at me like I was the villain.
Maybe I was.
“I hate all of you,” I whispered, then turned and ran from the room.
I slammed my bedroom door behind me and collapsed onto my bed, sobbing into my pillow.
They didn’t understand. None of them understood.
That safe house wasn’t just a property. It was the last place I’d been truly happy with my mother. The last place where our family had been whole.
And now my father was going to fill it with his new family. Replace all those memories with new ones. Erase my mother completely.
I cried until I had no tears left, until my throat was raw and my eyes burned.
Then I just lay there in the silence, staring at the ceiling, feeling completely and utterly alone.
An hour later, I couldn’t stand being in that room anymore. The walls felt like they were closing in on me.
I got up, washed my face, and decided to go sit on the balcony. The fresh air might help. Might clear my head.
I stepped out onto the balcony and stopped short.
Benita was already there.
She stood at the railing, her back to me, her shoulders hunched. She looked small and broken, nothing like the vibrant girl I’d met months ago.
At the sound of the door opening, she turned, and the moment she saw me, her expression hardened.
She actually hissed at me. Like a snake. A sound of pure contempt.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous. “Are you here to scout for the killers who are going to end me too? Planning to give them access codes and override passwords?”
The accusation stung, even though I knew I deserved it.
“I just wanted some air,” I said quietly. “I didn’t know you were here. I’ll leave.”
I turned to go back inside, but something stopped me. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was the need to make someone anyone—m understand.
“I’m sorry about Marco,” I said, not looking at her. “His death… it’s killing me inside.”
“You don’t get to say that,” Benita said, her voice sharp. “You don’t get to act like you cared about him when you’re the reason he’s dead.”
“I did care about him!” I turned back to face her, tears starting again. “I know you don’t believe me. I know you think I’m just some spoiled brat who doesn’t care about anyone but herself. But Marco… he meant something to me too.”
“Yeah, right,” Benita scoffed.
“He was my personal guard before he was yours,” I said, the words tumbling out. “When my father first recruited him years ago, he was assigned to me. He protected me, watched over me, listened to me complain about school and boys and all my stupid teenage problems.”
Benita’s expression shifted slightly, surprise flickering across her face.
“He was there when my mother died,” I continued, my voice breaking. “He was the one who found me when I locked myself in my room for three days. He was the one who sat outside my door talking to me through it until I finally came out. He helped me through the worst time of my life.”
I wiped at my tears with the back of my hand.
“So don’t tell me I don’t care that he’s dead,” I said. “Marco spent more years with me than he did with you. He was a good person. One of the best people I’ve ever known. And his death… it’s not like any other death. It’s not just another guard gone. It’s Marco.”
Benita stared at me for a long moment, and I saw her own tears starting to fall.
“He was like a big brother to me,” I admitted. “The only person in this whole organization who treated me like a normal person instead of the boss’s daughter.”
We stood there in silence, both of us crying, both of us grieving the same man from different perspectives.
“I really am sorry,” I whispered. “I know it doesn’t change anything. I know it doesn’t bring him back. But I need you to know that I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted anyone to die.”
“But they did,” Benita said, her voice hollow. “They did die. Because you were too blinded by jealousy to see that you were being used.”
“I know,” I said. “And I have to live with that for the rest of my life.”
Benita turned away from me, back toward the railing, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
“Well, none of this is going to bring him back,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Then she pushed past me and stormed back inside, leaving me alone on the balcony.