Chapter 227
Sophia's POV
I forced myself to stand straighter, pulling my shoulders back even though my legs felt like they might give out.
Claire's eyes were still locked on me, sharp and suspicious, and I knew I had seconds—maybe less—to sell this lie.
"I'm not pregnant," I said again, my voice steadier this time. "I just have a stomach bug. I've been cold all week, probably caught something." I wrapped my arms around myself, playing up the shiver. "That's why I was throwing up. It's nothing."
Claire's perfectly shaped eyebrows arched. "A stomach bug. In a hospital. How convenient."
"I'm here with my mother," I shot back, letting a bit of irritation creep into my tone. Anything to make this seem real. "She has severe asthma. That's why we're at the hospital. Not because of me."
For a moment, I thought she might believe it. Her expression flickered, then her face twisted into something ugly.
"You lying little whore."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I stumbled back half a step, my spine hitting the wall.
Claire advanced on me, her voice rising. "You think I'm stupid? You think I don't know what you are?" She jabbed a perfectly manicured finger toward my face. "You're nothing but a homewrecker. A pathetic little slut who seduces other women's men."
"That's not—"
"Don't you dare interrupt me." Her voice was venomous now, all pretense of civility gone. "You've been spreading your legs for someone you have no right to touch, and now you have the audacity to stand here and lie to my face?"
My hands balled into fists at my sides. "I don't know what you're talking about—"
"Shut up!" Claire's hand flew out before I could react.
The slap cracked across my cheek like a gunshot, sharp and brutal. My head snapped to the side, and I tasted blood where my teeth had cut into the inside of my mouth. For a second, I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The side of my face burned, and my eyes watered from the shock of it.
"You shameless bitch," Claire hissed, her voice low and trembling with rage. "You think you can just waltz in and steal what's mine? Play innocent while you destroy people's lives?"
I pressed my hand to my stinging cheek, blinking back tears. My ears were ringing. A few people in the hallway had stopped to stare, but no one intervened. Of course they didn't. This was a private hospital. People like Claire could do whatever they wanted.
"I didn't—" My voice came out hoarse. "I didn't do anything."
"Liar." Claire's face was inches from mine now, her breath hot against my skin. "Let me make something very clear, Sophia. Even if you are carrying someone's bastard child—even if you think you can use it to climb your way up—it will never work. Do you understand me?"
I couldn't speak. My throat had closed up.
"He will never let you keep it," she continued, her voice cold and precise. "You're nothing. Just a convenient distraction. If you're stupid enough to think otherwise, you'll learn the hard way. And if that baby exists?" Her smile was cruel. "He'll only want children from someone worthy. Not from trash like you."
"Stop it." The voice came from behind me, weak but furious.
I turned, and my heart dropped into my stomach.
My mother stood at the end of the hallway, one hand braced against the wall for support, her hospital gown hanging loose on her frail frame. She was breathing hard, her face flushed, but her eyes were blazing.
"Mom—" I started toward her, but she held up a hand.
"Don't you dare touch my daughter," she said to Claire, her voice shaking with effort. "Don't you dare put your hands on her again."
Claire turned, looking my mother up and down with barely concealed disgust. "And who the hell are you?"
"I'm her mother." Mom took a few unsteady steps forward, and I wanted to scream at her to go back to her room, to rest, to stop pushing herself.
Claire let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Oh, how touching. The dying woman comes to defend her daughter."
"Watch your mouth," Mom snapped. "You don't know anything about my daughter."
"I know she's a homewrecker," Claire said coldly. "I know she seduces men who don't belong to her. And I know that if she thinks she can use a pregnancy—if there even is one—to manipulate her way into a life she doesn't deserve, she's even dumber than she looks."
Mom's face went pale, but she didn't back down. "My daughter is worth ten of you. Whatever you think she's done—"
"What I think?" Claire's voice rose, sharp and cutting. "I know exactly what she's been doing. Throwing herself at someone else's man. Playing the victim while she ruins lives." She turned her glare back to me. "You better control your daughter, Mrs. Cruz. Because if she keeps this up, if she doesn't stay away from what's mine, I will make sure both of you regret it."
"Are you threatening us?" Mom's voice was hoarse now, her breathing labored.
"I'm giving you a warning." Claire's smile was ice-cold. "Keep your desperate little girl on a leash. Or you'll both find out exactly what I'm capable of."
She turned on her heel and started to walk away, but Mom's voice stopped her.
"What... what is she talking about, Sophia?"
I turned to face my mother, and the look in her eyes made my stomach twist. Confusion. Fear. And underneath it all, a terrible suspicion.
"Mom, it's nothing—"
"Don't lie to me." Her voice was barely above a whisper now, and she was gasping for breath, one hand pressed to her chest. "What does she mean? Who... who is she talking about?"
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. How could I explain? How could I tell her that the man who'd destroyed our family—who'd imprisoned my father and held our entire lives hostage—was the same man who'd been using my body like it belonged to him?
"Sophia." Mom took another step toward me, and I could see the effort it took. "Please. Tell me... tell me you're not..." She couldn't finish the sentence, but I knew what she was asking.
Are you still involved with Lucas?
The question hung in the air between us, and I felt my carefully constructed walls start to crumble.
"I..." My voice broke. "Mom, please, you need to sit down. You're not well—"
"Answer me." Her eyes were filling with tears now, and her breathing was getting worse. I could hear the wheeze in every breath, see the way her lips were starting to turn pale. "Are you... are you with him? With Lucas?"
Then she added, "Those hickeys on your neck—he did that, didn't he? And that's his fiancée Claire, isn't it?"