HER NAME WAS NEVER REAL

Chapter 14: The Things She Doesn't Say

Sophia couldn't breathe.

The photograph trembled in Adrian's hand.

Rain lashed against the windows of Vale Manor, thunder rumbling in the distance.

Adrian stared at the image.

A younger version of Sophia stood beside his father.

Smiling.

Happy.

Real.

His father's hand rested protectively on her shoulder.

The sight unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

Because his father had trusted very few people.

Slowly, Adrian turned the photograph over.

The handwritten message remained impossible to ignore.

ASK HER WHAT REALLY HAPPENED.

Silence stretched between them.

Heavy.

Suffocating.

Adrian finally looked up.

"Sophia."

Her throat tightened.

"Who gave you this?"

The question wasn't the one she expected.

"I don't know."

Adrian studied her carefully.

"Did you know my father?"

Sophia's fingers curled into trembling fists.

She remembered laughter.

Summer afternoons.

A warm voice telling her she'd always have a home.

Then blood.

Screams.

Gunshots.

She forced the memories away.

"Yes."

The single word echoed through the room.

Adrian's expression hardened.

"You knew him."

Sophia nodded.

"And you never thought to mention it?"

"It's complicated."

Adrian laughed bitterly.

"Of course it is."

"Sophia."

He took a step toward her.

"What happened?"

Pain flickered across her face.

"I can't tell you."

"Can't?"

His voice rose.

"Or won't?"

Sophia lowered her gaze.

"If I tell you..."

She stopped.

Because if Adrian knew the truth—

He'd hate her.

He'd hate everything she represented.

And she'd lose the one person she had no right caring about.

"I'm sorry."

Adrian's jaw tightened.

"I'm tired of hearing that."

Then he walked away.

Leaving Sophia alone.

Again.

The next few days passed quietly.

Too quietly.

Adrian immersed himself in work.

Meetings.

Contracts.

Anything to avoid the woman sleeping just down the hall.

Sophia noticed.

Of course she did.

He stopped asking questions.

Stopped seeking her out.

Stopped looking at her the way he once had.

It hurt more than she expected.

Which was dangerous.

Because feelings complicated missions.

And Sophia had spent years learning how not to feel.

Late that evening, Sophia wandered into the manor's greenhouse.

The scent of roses filled the air.

The stillness helped.

A little.

"You've been avoiding him."

Sophia stiffened.

Eleanor Vale stood near the entrance.

Watching.

Sophia forced herself to relax.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Eleanor snorted.

"I've lived long enough to recognize guilt."

Sophia remained silent.

Eleanor stepped closer.

"My grandson is a difficult man."

Sophia blinked.

"That's one way to describe him."

"He trusts very few people."

A pause.

"And when he does..."

The older woman's voice softened.

"He gives everything."

Sophia's chest tightened painfully.

"I know."

Eleanor studied her.

"You care about him."

Sophia looked away.

"No."

The lie came too quickly.

Eleanor noticed.

"You remind me of someone."

Sophia frowned.

"Who?"

Eleanor's expression darkened.

"Someone who believed love could save people."

"And?"

"It couldn't."

Silence followed.

Then Eleanor turned to leave.

Without looking back, she said quietly—

"Don't break him."

Sophia stood frozen long after Eleanor disappeared.

Because she wasn't sure she had a choice.

Later that night, Sophia entered Adrian's study.

The room was empty.

Moonlight spilled across polished wood floors.

She approached his desk carefully.

Not to search.

Not to investigate.

Just to return something.

The photograph.

She placed it gently beside his laptop.

Then noticed another picture nearby.

Adrian as a child.

Standing beside his father.

Smiling.

Sophia's breath caught.

She remembered that day.

Adrian had scraped his knee trying to climb a tree.

He'd refused to cry.

Even then.

A soft sound behind her made Sophia jump.

"You remember that."

Adrian's voice.

Sophia turned slowly.

He stood in the doorway.

Watching her.

"You know this photograph," he said.

It wasn't a question.

Sophia swallowed.

"Yes."

Adrian stepped closer.

"Were you there?"

She looked down at the picture.

At the boy Adrian used to be.

At the innocence he'd lost.

"Yes."

His breathing changed.

Subtle.

Uneven.

"Then tell me."

Sophia closed her eyes.

"I can't."

Adrian laughed without humor.

"You know what's funny?"

Sophia looked up.

"I don't even know if I should believe you anymore."

The words struck harder than she expected.

Because trust had never mattered before.

Until Adrian.

"You shouldn't," she whispered.

Adrian stared at her.

Then said quietly—

"I don't want to feel that way."

Sophia's heart cracked.

Because she didn't want him to either.

But wanting and reality were rarely the same thing.

Much later, Sophia stood alone on her balcony.

The city lights glittered below.

Her phone vibrated.

Unknown Number.

Sophia's stomach dropped.

She opened the message.

A photograph appeared on the screen.

Sophia.

Adrian.

Taken earlier that day inside Vale Manor.

Someone had been watching again.

Then another message arrived.

You're getting attached.

Sophia's fingers tightened around the phone.

A third message followed.

Don't forget what happened last time.

Her blood ran cold.

Finally

One last message appeared.

Six devastating words.

You don't deserve another chance.

Sophia sank onto the balcony chair.

Her composure finally breaking.

Tears blurred her vision.

Because the message wasn't threatening.

It was true.

She didn't deserve Adrian's trust.

His kindness.

His growing affection.

Not after what she'd done.

Not after the role she'd played eleven years ago.

A voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Sophia?"

She quickly wiped her tears away.

Adrian stood in the doorway.

Concern etched across his features.

For a moment, neither moved.

Then Adrian crossed the distance between them.

"Are you okay?"

Sophia forced a smile.

"Fine."

Adrian frowned.

"No, you're not."

The gentleness in his voice nearly undid her.

Because Adrian still cared.

Despite everything.

Sophia looked away.

"You should hate me."

Silence.

Then Adrian asked softly

"Why?"

Sophia's eyes filled again.

Because she didn't know how to answer.

Not without destroying everything.

She opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Then whispered

"Because I already do."

As Adrian watched Sophia walk away, something slipped from her pocket onto the balcony floor.

A worn newspaper clipping.

Adrian bent down to pick it up.

His breath caught.

The headline read:

VALE FAMILY TRAGEDY: BUSINESSMAN KILLED IN SUSPECTED ASSASSINATION

The article was dated eleven years ago.

The same year Sophia refused to discuss.

The same year she'd said everything changed.

And scrawled across the margin in Sophia's handwriting were three chilling words:

It was my fault.