63
The sun filtered through the kitchen window, casting pale gold across the table where Sophie sat, unmoving. The steam from her untouched tea curled into the morning air like smoke from a fire already long gone.
Mei paced near the door, phone to her ear, voice sharp, low.
Alexander stood by the window, his gaze locked on the quiet street outside. His jaw flexed every few seconds, his fingers twitching like he was itching to grab hold of something—or someone.
Sophie didn’t look at either of them.
She just watched the tiny swirl in her tea and wondered if it meant something that she couldn’t taste anything anymore.
Finally, Mei hung up and turned. “The team in SoHo swept the perimeter last night. Nothing. No prints. No trace. No surveillance they left behind. It’s like the entire place was designed to vanish.”
Alexander didn’t move. “That’s because it was.”
Sophie glanced up.
Alexander’s voice was grim. “Everything Nikolai does is constructed with one goal—leverage. Not permanence. He builds to bait, not to keep.”
Mei crossed her arms. “Then why reveal himself at all?”
Alexander’s eyes flicked to Sophie, just briefly. “Because this time, the leverage is personal.”
Sophie finally spoke, her voice quieter than she meant it to be. “He wants me to question everything.”
Mei nodded. “He’s already done that.”
Sophie pushed her tea aside. “I thought I knew what I wanted. What was real. Who I was.”
“You do,” Alexander said, turning toward her.
She looked at him, tired. “Do I?”
“You’re Ethan’s mother. You’re the woman who rebuilt her life from ashes. You’re the woman who looked a man like Nikolai in the eye and didn’t flinch.”
Sophie’s voice cracked. “I flinched.”
“But you didn’t run.”
She blinked back the burn behind her eyes.
Mei interrupted gently. “And now you have a decision to make.”
Sophie nodded.
“I do.”
Later that day, Sophie stood in the doorway of Ethan’s room.
He was lying on his stomach, crayons scattered across the floor, drawing spaceships and monsters and little stick-figure heroes with capes.
The moment felt too still. Too beautiful to touch.
“Ethan,” she said softly.
He looked up, grinning. “Mama, look! I made you a rocket ship. This one goes to the moon and back.”
She smiled and knelt beside him. “That’s amazing.”
“I put your name on it, see?” He pointed to a little S in red marker. “And this is me in the window.”
She touched the drawing lightly. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
He blinked. “Am I in trouble?”
“No,” she said. “Not at all.”
He rolled over and sat cross-legged. “Is it a secret?”
“Kind of.”
He leaned closer, whispering, “I like secrets.”
Sophie swallowed. “Well, this one… this one’s big.”
Ethan tilted his head. “Is it a good big or a bad big?”
“I don’t know yet,” she whispered. “But I think… it’s something we’ll figure out together.”
He reached for her hand. “Okay.”
She closed her fingers around his, fragile and warm.
“Remember when you asked me about your dad?”
Ethan nodded.
“Well… the man you’ve called your dad—Alexander—he loves you very much.”
“I know.”
“But there’s someone else,” she said carefully. “Someone who helped make you. He… he’s your biological father.”
Ethan blinked. “Like… science stuff?”
“Yes.”
“Is he nice?”
Sophie hesitated. “He wants to meet you.”
Ethan didn’t respond.
Sophie continued, “But only if you want to. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”
“Is he like Daddy?”
“No,” she whispered. “He’s not.”
“Is he scary?”
“A little,” she admitted.
Ethan frowned. “Then I don’t want to meet him.”
Sophie’s heart twisted.
“You don’t have to,” she said again. “I just wanted you to know the truth.”
Ethan leaned against her, wrapping his arms around her neck. “I already have a daddy.”
Sophie buried her face in his hair, her voice trembling. “I know, baby.”
“I don’t want another one.”
“You don’t have to have one.”
“Can we go to the museum again tomorrow?”
She smiled through her tears. “Yes. We’ll go to the museum.”
“Can Daddy come too?”
“Of course.”
Ethan nodded. “Then everything’s okay.”
And for a few moments—it almost was.
That night, Sophie stood in the doorway of the guest room, watching Alexander button his shirt.
He looked up.
“You okay?”
She walked in slowly. “He doesn’t want to meet him.”
Alexander nodded once. “I’m not surprised.”
Sophie stopped in front of him. “He said you’re his daddy.”
Alexander’s throat worked. “He said that?”
“He did.”
He looked away.
Sophie reached out, touching his face. “You are.”
He caught her wrist, gently. “Sophie…”
She leaned in, her forehead resting against his chest. “What if I let go of the past?”
He didn’t move.
“What if I stopped trying to rewrite it, or justify it, or hide from it… and just let it go?”
His voice was soft. “Then maybe you’d finally breathe.”
She looked up at him.
And he kissed her.
Not hard.
Not desperate.
Just right.
And when they parted, she whispered, “Stay tonight.”
He nodded. “I wasn’t planning on leaving.”
Hours later, after the house had gone still again, Sophie sat awake in bed, Alexander’s arm draped over her waist.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
She grabbed it quickly.
One message.
From Nikolai.
“You should ask Viktor why he kept you from the one person who could have saved your mother.”
She stared at the screen.
No response.
No reply.
Just another crack in the foundation of everything she thought she knew.
She turned off the phone.
But she couldn’t stop the whisper in her mind.
Because if Viktor had let her suffer…
If he had let her sell herself to Vertex…
If he had let her believe there was no other way…
Then maybe the biggest betrayal wasn’t from Nikolai at all.
Maybe it had been closer than she thought.
She lay back down slowly, curling into Alexander’s warmth.
But her heart was already racing.
Because tomorrow—
She would ask Viktor the one question she had never dared to.
And she already knew—
She wouldn’t like the answer.