Chapter 57
Sophie sat in silence long after the door closed behind Nikolai.
The shadows in the room had grown darker, thicker. Her body hadn’t moved, but her mind wouldn’t stop. Every word he said replayed in her head like a broken reel. The way he looked at her. The way he said Ethan looked like her.
Was that guilt she’d seen?
Or possession?
Or something worse—sentiment disguised as intent?
“Sophie.”
Alexander’s voice was soft. Grounding.
She turned slowly. He was still kneeling, his fingers wrapped gently around hers like they were the only thing tethering her to the world.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel,” she whispered.
“You’re not supposed to feel anything,” he said quietly. “You’re allowed to feel everything.”
Her eyes burned. “I thought the worst part was that Ethan wasn’t yours.”
Alexander didn’t blink. “That’s not the worst part for me.”
Sophie’s breath hitched.
“It’s not?”
He shook his head, tightening his grip. “The worst part is thinking you had to go through this alone.”
She looked at him, at the quiet storm in his eyes, and her chest ached.
“I wasn’t alone,” she said, but the words felt like a lie.
“You were.” He reached up, brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “And it’s killing me.”
A tear slipped down her face. She didn’t bother wiping it.
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
Alexander’s expression softened.
“I would’ve believed you.”
Her lips trembled. “Would you have?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes. Because even when I hated you, I still trusted you more than anyone else.”
She closed her eyes.
God, why did that hurt more?
“I need to see Ethan,” she said suddenly.
Alexander’s hand twitched. “You want him brought here?”
She shook her head. “No. I need to go home. I need to see him sleeping in his own bed. Breathing. Safe.”
Alexander stood immediately. “Then we’ll go now.”
She rose to her feet, but her legs wobbled. He caught her, held her steady.
“You’re shaking.”
“I know.”
“Let me help.”
“I don’t know if anyone can.”
He didn’t argue. He just kept holding her.
They left in silence, walking past Lisa and Viktor without speaking. Sophie couldn’t look at either of them. Her trust was paper-thin now, frayed and ready to snap. And for once, neither tried to stop them.
The car ride was quiet. Alexander kept glancing at her like he was afraid she’d disappear if he blinked. She stared out the window, heart tight, lungs shallow, feeling both hollow and full.
“I don’t want him to be hurt by this,” she murmured as the city lights flickered past.
“He won’t be.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
She looked at him then. “You still want to protect him?”
Alexander met her gaze. “I love him.”
Her throat closed.
“I thought maybe... after everything...”
“I love him,” he repeated, quieter now. “He’s mine, Sophie. No name or DNA can change that.”
Tears blurred her vision. She blinked them back.
“Thank you.”
He gave a small, crooked smile. “You don’t have to thank me. He’s my son.”
She didn’t correct him.
Couldn’t.
Because maybe, in all the ways that mattered, he was.
The car pulled up outside her brownstone.
The lights were off upstairs. Ethan would be asleep.
“Wait here,” she said, her voice steadying. “I want to go in alone.”
Alexander hesitated.
“I’ll just sit on the porch,” he murmured.
She nodded, then stepped out into the night.
Each step up the stairs felt like coming back to a life that had been put on pause. As she unlocked the door and pushed it open, the smell of home hit her like a memory—warm vanilla, soft linen, the faint scent of lemon from the cleaner Mei always used.
She tiptoed through the dark, careful not to make a sound.
Up the stairs. Past the hallway pictures.
To Ethan’s room.
She opened the door slowly.
There he was.
Fast asleep.
His little body curled beneath the covers, one hand tucked under his cheek, his mouth slightly open in the softest breath.
And just like that—
Sophie’s knees buckled.
She dropped to the floor beside his bed, tears sliding down her cheeks silently, one after another, until she was gasping for air.
Not from sadness.
From relief.
From love.
From guilt.
She reached out, brushing his hair back gently, trying not to wake him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He didn’t stir.
“I’m so sorry, baby. For all the lies. For the truth. For not knowing how to protect you from any of it.”
Her chest heaved.
“I will now. I swear to you, I will now.”
A small sound came from the doorway.
She turned.
Alexander stood there.
He hadn’t stayed on the porch after all.
He didn’t say anything.
Just looked at her.
And then at Ethan.
His expression softened.
Sophie rose, wiped her face quickly.
“I needed to see him.”
“I know.”
She hesitated, then stepped closer to him.
“You’re sure?”
He didn’t blink.
“I’m sure.”
“Even if the world finds out who he is?”
“They’ll find out who raised him,” Alexander said. “And that’s what matters.”
Sophie exhaled.
“Do you want to sit with him for a while?”
Alexander’s eyes flicked to Ethan’s sleeping figure.
“Yeah.”
He stepped forward, knelt down by the bed, and rested a hand gently on the blanket.
Sophie sat beside him again, their shoulders brushing.
“He’s going to ask questions,” she said.
“We’ll tell him the truth.”
“Not all at once.”
“No,” Alexander agreed. “Just enough to remind him he’s loved.”
Sophie nodded slowly.
They sat in silence for a long time.
And maybe—just maybe—it felt like something new beginning.
Even if it was built on the wreckage of something broken.