Chapter Twenty-Nine: Family Ties
Sophie's POV
The black Lexus glided through the city's most exclusive neighborhood, its whisper-quiet engine a stark contrast to my thundering heart. I sat in the hand-stitched leather backseat, flanked by two of Marcus's most intimidating bodyguards, my fingers twisting nervously in my lap.
"Arriving shortly, Miss Haven," the driver announced, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the rearview mirror. The unspoken message was clear - they were all watching, all reporting back to Marcus.
The car approached a pair of massive wrought iron gates that looked centuries old, complete with a family crest worked into the metalwork. Unlike the sleek modernity of Marcus's domain, my father's estate felt frozen in time - a sprawling Victorian mansion surrounded by meticulously maintained formal gardens. The weathered stone walls and intricate architectural details spoke of generations of accumulated power and old bloodlines.
"Remember," the larger bodyguard rumbled as we approached the imposing oak door with its ornate brass knocker. "We maintain visual contact at all times."
To protect me or spy on me? Probably both.
The doorbell's deep, resonant chime echoed through what had to be massive halls beyond. How fucking weird was this? Standing here waiting to be let into what was technically my ancestral home. A home I had no memory of, yet something about it tugged at the edges of my mind like a half-remembered dream.
A maid in a formal uniform opened the heavy oak door, her eyes widening slightly as she took in our little group. "Miss Haven. Please, come in."
The foyer stopped me in my tracks. The sweeping marble staircase, the massive oil paintings in their gilded frames, the exact pattern of the parquet floors - - something about it made my brain itch. Like walking into a room where you swear you've been before, but can't remember when or why.
"Sophie." My father's voice snapped me back to the present. He stood in the archway to what looked like a formal parlor, wearing another perfectly tailored suit. His expression was carefully neutral, like our confrontation at the engagement party had never happened.
Just like that night, seeing him up close was like looking in a mirror - we had the same amber eyes, the same sharp features. The same capacity for cold fury, apparently.
"Alexander." I used his first name deliberately, watching him flinch ever so slightly. Good.
He gestured for me to follow him into the parlor. "I thought we could speak somewhere more comfortable."
The woman who followed him at the party sat perched on an antique settee like she was posing for a portrait. She had that ageless beauty that only came from expensive maintenance - perfect blonde highlights, immaculate outfit, not a wrinkle in sight despite being close to my father's age. Her smile didn't reach her eyes as she looked me up and down.
"Sophie, this is Katherine, my wife." The way he said it made my blood boil. Like he was introducing me to some casual acquaintance instead of the woman who'd replaced my mother.
The words "his wife" hit me like a punch to the gut. I'd seen her at the engagement party, of course, but somehow my brain hadn't processed that this polished, perfect woman was my father's new bride.
I felt sick. This woman probably slept in my mother's bed, hung her clothes in my mother's closet. She wore the same expression of barely concealed disdain I remembered from that night, when she'd stood silently behind my father while Marcus orchestrated his little engagement show, but now her presence felt like a personal assault.
"We've met," I said coldly. "Though you didn't bother introducing us then."
Before either of them could respond, movement on the grand staircase caught my attention. Two teenagers appeared like something out of a fucking gothic novel - descending those ancient stairs with the kind of grace that screamed "private school and etiquette lessons." The boy looked about thirteen, wearing a prep school uniform. The girl might been fifteen, her designer dress a perfect match for Katherine's tasteful elegance.
The air left my lungs as I really looked at them. The boy had my father's strong jaw and bearing, while the girl was blessed with those same amber eyes like me and my father. My half-siblings. The children he'd actually stuck around to raise. The perfect pure-blooded heirs to replace his halfbreed mistake.
"And these are James and Elizabeth," my father continued smoothly, like this was all perfectly normal. Like we were just one big happy fucking family.
The silence stretched uncomfortably as we all sized each other up. Elizabeth's expression matched her mother's - pure disdain. But James... there was something different in his eyes. Curiosity maybe?
"So this is how you honored mom's memory?" The words burst out before I could stop them, all the hurt and rage I'd been carrying since that party boiling over. "Built yourself a perfect new family while she died protecting your first mistake?"
"Sophie-" my father started, but I was on a roll.
"Did you even wait until her body was cold? Or were you already fucking Katherine while mom was pregnant with me?"
Katherine's nails dug into the settee's antique upholstery. "How dare you-"
"How dare I?" I laughed, the sound harsh and bitter. "You brought me here to what - show off your picture-perfect life? Rub it in my face that you replaced us without a second thought?"
"That's enough!" Katherine shot to her feet, her careful composure cracking. "You ungrateful little bitch. After everything Alexander's done for you-"
"Like abandon me and my mother when we needed him most?" I demanded.
"Katherine." My father's voice cracked like a whip. "She is not supposed to know these. Not now."
"Why shouldn't she know these?" Katherine's voice rose to a near-shriek. "About everything you're planning to give this halfbreed stranger while your true children-"
Wait wait, what does that exactly mean?