Chapter 44 44
Two days had passed since the incident in his wardrobe.
Two days and she hadn’t seen him once.
That hadn’t been an accident.
Sofía had been careful. Painfully so. She memorized his routine, noted the hours he left for the academy and the times he returned home. Whenever she knew he was inside the house, she locked herself in her room and didn’t come out.
He didn’t try to force her either.
If anything, he had changed.
For the past two days, he’d been distant quieter, more withdrawn, as if something weighed heavily on him. But she couldn’t bring herself to care.
Just as he’d promised, all her belongings had been moved into the house. His boldness in emptying her apartment still sat bitterly in her chest, but she said nothing. Even the savings she had hidden beneath her bed had been returned to her, untouched.
She hadn’t attended classes in days.
No leave application. No explanation.
She clung to the hope that her scholarship wouldn’t be revoked, though the thought gnawed at her constantly. When she returned, she knew she’d be drowning in missed work.
Physically, she was healing. Her foot had improved there was still a faint limp, but the pain was minimal. The bruises had faded completely. Outwardly, she looked normal again.
Inside, she wasn’t.
For two days straight, her mind had worked relentlessly, mapping escape routes, possibilities, risks.
And today, she finally found the courage to act.
She needed her phone.
She needed Alfonso.
God knew how worried he must be.
It was noon Fernando would be at the academy.
Moving quietly, Sofía slipped into his bedroom. The room was completely dark. She slid the curtains aside, letting light spill in, then checked the drawers on the side table.
Nothing.
She searched his wardrobe next.
Still nothing.
Frustration bubbled over as she stepped back into the hallway and that’s when it struck her.
She’d never explored the house.
The thought felt invasive. Ill-mannered. Almost wrong.
But rules blurred when you were trying to escape a man who spoke about you like you belonged to him.
She walked to the room on the right side of the corridor.
Locked.
Her brows lifted slowly.
That was it.
Something was in there.
She hurried downstairs, searching the lounge for keys. Nothing. She checked again. Still nothing.
With an irritated huff, she moved into the kitchen. That’s when she spotted something useful.
A fork.
A knife.
Grabbing them, she rushed back upstairs and crouched in front of the locked door, jabbing the knife into the keyhole with clumsy determination like they did in the movies.
It didn’t work.
Half an hour later, she dropped both utensils to the floor and pressed her forehead against the door, seething.
Nothing.
Not even a phone in this entire damn house.
She exhaled sharply
Then froze.
An idea sparked.
A slow grin curved her lips.
She pulled some money from her savings, changed quickly into jeans and a loose white shirt, pulled a cap low over her hair, and checked herself in the mirror. If by some awful chance someone from the academy lived nearby, she wouldn’t be recognizable.
Resolved, she stepped out of the house.
Once outside, she glanced left.
Then right.
The neighborhood was lined with massive, expensive houses. Quiet. Polished.
And completely devoid of shops.
With a sigh, she turned left and started walking.
And walking.
What felt like hours turned out to be just one but when she finally spotted a bakery, relief surged through her.
“Finally!” she squealed under her breath and hurried inside.
An elderly man greeted her with a warm smile. Another customer was finishing up at the counter, and once they left, Sofía stepped forward.
“Sir, I’d like this donut,” she said cheerfully, pointing to a chocolate-covered one that looked sinfully good.
He packed it, took her money, and handed it over.
Smiling, Sofía sat on a small couch by the window and savored every bite. It had been so long since she’d tasted something sweet.
At Fernando’s house, breakfast meant pancakes neatly arranged on the island. Dinner was always pizza, lasagna, burgers, steak.
It wasn’t bad.
But it wasn’t sweet.
When she finished, she tossed the wrapper into the trash and returned to the counter.
“Sir,” she began politely, tilting her head and summoning the same pout that used to melt her grandfather’s resolve, “I forgot my phone at home. I was supposed to meet my friend here, but she hasn’t arrived yet. Would you mind if I borrowed your phone for a minute?”
The old man chuckled softly.
“Of course, my child. There’s a phone in the kitchen. You can use it.”
Her smile was radiant.
She hurried into the back and dialed Alfonso’s number from memory the one she’d memorized the moment he texted her after arriving in Manchester.
Two rings.
Then
“Hello?”
Relief rushed through her so fast it nearly made her dizzy.
“Alfonso… it’s me. Sofía.”
“Oh my God SOFÍA!” he shouted. “Where the hell have you been? How are you? Where’s your phone? And who the fuck was that man?!”
“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “My phone got lost.”
“How are you?” she asked, redirecting.
“Don’t dodge me,” he snapped. “The guy who answered your phone said he was your boyfriend.”
Her hand flew to her mouth.
Fernando Ruiz was evil.
“I—I don’t know who that was,” she lied quickly. “I lost my phone. Maybe whoever found it was just messing with you.”
There was a pause.
Then Alfonso sighed.
“I was so worried about you.”
Her throat tightened.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, wiping away a single tear. “I miss you.”
They talked for a few more minutes before she hung up.
After thanking the old man, Sofía stepped back outside and began the walk home her chest heavy, her heart aching with longing.
She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice the car until
A loud horn blared right beside her.
She jumped.
Turning sharply, ready to glare
Her heart stopped.
Fernando Ruiz sat behind the wheel of his Range Rover, watching her.
And in that exact moment, Sofía knew
She was dead.