Episode5
1519 Words
The morning sun broke through the sheer curtains of Sophia's room like a spotlight, but she wasn't asleep. She had been awake for hours, lying still, her thoughts spinning uncontrollably since she left Alexander’s hotel room. Her phone was already buzzing on the nightstand.
She sat up slowly, her muscles sore and her heart conflicted. 40 missed calls. And then came messages – screenshots, news, headlines. She scrolled through them with trembling fingers.
“Burnett Heirness Spotted in the Hotel With Beaumont Tycoon” “Sophie Burnett’s Scandalous Night”
The footage was grainy, but it was unmistakably her. Dressed in last night’s cocktail dress, hair dishevelled, stepping into a hotel with Alexxander Beaumont.
“Damn it, Alexander”, she muttered under her breath.
Just then the door swung open. her mum, walked in holding a tablet, a grave expression plastered on her face.
“Sophie.” Sophie braced herself.
her mum handed her the tablet. “It’s everywhere”.
“I know,” Sophiw replied, her voice dry. her mum studied her, “Did you plan this?”
Sophie’s eyes snapped up. Excuse me?”
“I mean –was this a stunt? A move against Etan? Because if it was, it’s working”.
“No, Mum,” Sophie said firmly. “I didn’t plan anything. Silence fell between the. Finally her mum sighed. “Well, whether it was a mistake or not, the world is watching now.”
A knock interrupted them. Richard Burnett entered, stern as ever.Come downstairs. Emergency meeting, “he said.
****
The blinding lights of early morning filtered through the conference room's floor-to-ceiling windows. Sophie sat at the head of the polished mahogany table, flanked by Burnett Group’s senior board members—some loyal, some skeptical. The hush in the room was unsettling.
Her father, Richard Burnett, stood behind her with crossed arms, his presence silent but thunderous.
“And as you can see,” said John, the head of public relations, gesturing at the monitor, “the footage has already been picked up by EliteGist, PowerPulse, and BusinessRadar. It’s everywhere.”
Sophie couldn’t look at the screen.
She didn’t need to.
The grainy hotel security footage looping on the news was branded in her mind—her stepping into the hotel beside Alexander Beaumont, her eyes hollow, her body language unmistakably intimate.
I trusted you’d keep a low profile, “Richard said, calm but biting. “But here we are.”
Xander her brother cut in, eyes locked on sophie. It’s not just the footage. People are questioning your ability to lead. There’s chatter about you being emotionally unstable.
Sophies’s jaw clenched. “Because i had a breakdown after being publicly humiliated by my cheating ex-husband?”
“That’s not what they see, “Xander said coldly. “They see weakness.”
Richard leaned forward. “We’ll control the narrative. But you have two choices.”
Sophie lifted her chin. “I’m listening.”
“One : stay quit. Let us handle the damage. You’ll stay outy of the spotlight and wait this out quietly, “he said.
“Two : own it. Hold a press conference. Reclaim your voice. You’ll need to make it clear that you’re not a victim anymore.”
Sophie hesitated. And then, slowly she spoke. I’ll hold the press conference.”
Freya blinked. “ Are you sure?”
“I’ve been hiding for too long. If I'm going to fix this. I’ll do it my way.”
That evening, she sat alone in her apartment in the Burnett penthouse, the city skyline glittering outside her window, mocking her. She picked up her phone, hesitating, then finally called the one person who owed her an explanation.
Alexander answered on the second ring. “Sophie.”
“Did you leak the footage?” she asked, skipping greetings.
He exhaled. “Yes.”
The word crashed into her chest like glass.
“You bastard,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Why? What the hell was the point of humiliating me again?”
“I did it to protect you,” Alexander said. “Or at least, I told myself that. I knew the press would sniff it out eventually. Better to control the narrative. Make you look like you moved on fast... not like a victim.”
“Victim?” she laughed bitterly. “You think that makes me look powerful? You handed the press a scandal. And for what? Revenge? Pride?”
“No,” he said quietly. “Because I still care.”
A pause. Sophie didn’t respond. She didn’t know how.
Alexander continued, “I told you before—the business world doesn’t care about your feelings. But they do care about your name. Use this. Own it. Spin the story. Show them you don’t run from anything.”
Click. Sophie ended the call. She stared at her reflection in the darkened glass window.
They won’t destroy me again. Not Ethan. Not Alexander. Not the press. Later That Night
The cursor blinked on her laptop screen. Blank.
Then:
“My name is Sophie Burnett...” She deleted it. Typed again.
“Some of you know me as Ethan’s ex-wife…”
Backspace.
She stared at the keyboard for a long time before her fingers began to move—not with logic, but with raw emotion.
Every sentence poured out of her like blood from a reopened wound.
By the time the draft was finished, it was nearly 3 a.m., and her hands were trembling. Not from fear. From release.
The Next Morning
The house buzzed with quiet tension. Burnett staff moved like shadows, prepping the estate’s media hall. A makeup artist waited in the foyer, and a stylist hovered by Sophie’s room with a selection of blazers and heels.
But Sophie didn’t need help today.
She emerged in a simple white blazer over a black silk blouse, her hair pinned back in a sleek low bun. No heavy makeup, no jewelry, no performative glamour.
She was here to speak. Not to be seen.
As she stepped into the private media hall, the sound of cameras and murmuring reporters echoed in her ears. A spotlight lit the podium.
She walked toward it slowly.
Her parents watched from a private balcony above. Alexander, she noticed, stood at the far back of the room—arms folded, eyes unreadable.
She didn’t waver.
She took the mic. The room fell silent.
Sophie adjusted the microphone. Her throat was dry, and for one long second, she thought her voice might fail her.
Dozens of reporters sat before her. Lights. Cameras. Microphones angled like weapons.
And above them all, behind a glass partition, were the Burnetts—her family, regal and silent. Xander stood with his arms folded. Her father sat still as stone. Rachel’s eyes shimmered.
And in the shadows near the exit—Alexander Beaumont.
Sophie took a breath, long and slow.
And began.
“Good morning.
My name is Sophie Burnett.”
A flash went off. Then another.
“Some of you know me as Ethan Crawford’s ex-wife. Some of you know me as the woman in last night’s scandal. Some of you… don’t know me at all.
But I’m here to change that.”
The room quieted. Every eye was on her.
“Three years ago, I walked away from the Burnett name. I thought I was making a brave choice—one rooted in love. I gave up my wealth, my career, my identity. I did it because I believed in someone who promised me the world.
That person was Ethan Crawford.”
Her voice didn’t c***k—but her fingers curled tightly around the podium.
“I was wrong.”
A murmur rippled across the reporters.
“I believed that love meant sacrifice. So I sacrificed everything.
I endured silence when I should’ve spoken.
I swallowed pain I should’ve screamed about.
And I let myself become small, thinking that’s what good wives do.”
Flashbulbs popped. More reporters leaned forward, fingers dancing on keyboards.
“On our wedding anniversary, I found my husband in bed with another woman. A woman I had once called a friend.
And that night, he handed me divorce papers.
Just like that—three years, erased.
But it didn’t stop there. No. Days later, I was arrested. Charged with a crime I didn’t commit. Accused of embezzling money from the very company I gave up my life to support.”
Gasps.
“Ethan Crawford didn’t just cheat. He lied. He stole.
And then, he tried to ruin me.”
Sophie’s voice grew firmer, louder.
“But I’m not ruined. I’m here. I survived.
And I’m taking my life back.”
A beat of silence passed. Sophie inhaled, then softened her tone.
“I didn’t ask to become a symbol.
But if my pain can mean something—if it can help even one person feel less alone—then I’ll wear this spotlight with pride.
To every woman who’s been gasli
ghted, discarded, or mocked…
To everyone who’s been silenced…
I see you.
And you will hear me.”
- Writer
