Chapter 9: The Wife Who Doesn't Sleep
959 Words
The corridor fell silent.
Adrian stared at Sophia.
She stood barefoot in the dimly lit hallway, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Rain battered the windows outside.
The old grandfather clock downstairs struck midnight.
"You think someone in this house is trying to kill me?" Adrian asked.
Sophia's expression remained grim.
"I know what I saw."
"You didn't see their face."
"No."
"Then how can you be certain?"
Sophia hesitated.
Because trained killers don't run.
Because they disappear.
Because I'd recognize those footsteps anywhere.
Instead, she said, "Instinct."
Adrian let out a frustrated breath.
"Instinct isn't evidence."
Sophia crossed her arms.
"And evidence didn't stop someone from cutting your brake lines."
The words hit their mark.
Adrian fell silent.
"Get some sleep," he finally said.
Sophia almost laughed.
Sleep.
As if sleep had been an option since she'd married him.
"As long as you're in this house," she said quietly, "I'm not sleeping."
Without waiting for his response, she turned and walked away.
At two in the morning, Vale Manor slept.
Sophia didn't.
Dressed in black, she slipped through the silent corridors.
She studied the paintings.
The security cameras.
The servants' entrances.
She memorized exits.
Blind spots.
Patterns.
Whoever had taken that photograph inside the manor knew the house intimately.
Which meant one thing.
They belonged here.
Sophia reached the west wing.
Locked.
Interesting.
She crouched beside the door.
The security keypad had recently been replaced.
Even more interesting.
"Care to explain?"
Sophia froze.
Adrian leaned against the wall behind her.
His expression unreadable.
Of course he'd followed her.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
Sophia stood slowly.
"Couldn't sleep."
"Most insomniacs read books."
"I've never been most people."
Adrian's gaze dropped toward the keypad.
"You're investigating my house."
Sophia met his eyes.
"I'm protecting my husband."
The word husband hung awkwardly between them.
Adrian recovered first.
"Without my knowledge?"
"You would've said no."
His jaw tightened.
"Try me."
Sophia studied him.
Then said softly—
"Someone inside this house wants you dead."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
Adrian took a step closer.
"How do you know?"
Sophia looked away.
"I just do."
Frustration flashed across Adrian's face.
"No records. No past. No answers."
His voice hardened.
"And somehow you always know what's going to happen."
Sophia's pulse quickened.
"You think I'm involved."
"I don't know what to think."
The admission hurt more than she expected.
"Then maybe you shouldn't have married me."
Silence.
Adrian's expression shifted.
"You gave me a choice between marriage and death."
"I gave you the truth."
"No."
His voice dropped.
"You gave me your version of it."
Sophia held his gaze.
Then said the one thing she'd been avoiding.
"Would it matter if I told you everything?"
Adrian didn't answer immediately.
Finally—
"Yes."
Sophia looked away.
"That's the problem."
Later that morning, Vale Manor buzzed with activity.
Breakfast.
Meetings.
Staff moving through the estate.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
Sophia sat beside Adrian.
Eleanor observed them carefully.
"You both look terrible," Eleanor remarked.
"We didn't sleep well," Adrian replied.
Sophia nearly choked on her coffee.
Eleanor raised an eyebrow.
"Interesting."
Across the table, Isabella looked disgusted.
Sophia ignored her.
Then Adrian's phone buzzed.
His expression changed instantly.
"What is it?" Sophia asked.
Adrian slid the device toward her.
An email.
No sender.
No subject.
Attached was a video file.
Sophia's stomach tightened.
"Don't open it," she said.
Adrian already had.
The footage appeared grainy.
Black and white.
Security camera footage.
Adrian's study.
Recorded the previous night.
Sophia's blood ran cold.
Because the camera angle shouldn't exist.
Neither should the footage.
The study camera had been removed years ago.
The timestamp read:
2:13 A.M.
Sophia appeared on screen.
Searching Adrian's desk.
Opening drawers.
Examining documents.
The video ended abruptly.
Silence filled the dining room.
Every pair of eyes shifted toward Sophia.
Isabella smirked.
Eleanor's expression hardened.
Adrian looked at Sophia.
"Were you in my study?"
Sophia hesitated.
The truth would sound terrible.
"Yes."
The room erupted.
"I knew it!" Isabella exclaimed.
"Enough," Adrian snapped.
Everyone fell silent.
His attention remained fixed on Sophia.
"Why?"
Sophia swallowed.
"I was looking for evidence."
"Of what?"
"Anything."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"Do you understand how this looks?"
Sophia nodded.
"Yes."
"Then explain it."
She couldn't.
Not without revealing too much.
"I can't."
The disappointment in Adrian's eyes cut deeper than anger ever could.
For the first time since meeting Sophia—
he stepped back.
Emotionally.
Physically.
Like he wasn't sure she belonged beside him anymore.
Sophia felt it immediately.
And hated how much it mattered.
Adrian stood abruptly.
"I need some air."
"Adrian—"
He didn't stop walking.
Sophia remained seated.
Alone.
Under the weight of everyone's suspicion.
Isabella smiled triumphantly.
Eleanor watched quietly.
As if trying to decide whether Sophia was a threat.
Or a tragedy.
Sophia lowered her gaze.
Because for the first time since entering Vale Manor—
she wondered if Adrian had made the wrong choice.
That evening, Adrian returned to his study.
He stared at the hidden camera footage again.
Sophia had lied.
Or omitted the truth.
Again.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
A text message.
Three words.
> Trust your wife.
Adrian frowned.
Another message followed.
> She isn't your enemy.
Then a final message appeared.
One that made his blood run cold.
> The enemy is sitting at your dinner table.
Adrian's grip tightened around the phone.
A floorboard creaked behind him.
He turned sharply.
The study door stood open.
Empty.
But resting on his desk—
where nothing had been moments before—
lay a silver pocket watch.
Old.
Elegant.
Familiar.
Adrian's breath caught.
He recognized it instantly.
It had belonged to his father.
Engraved inside were six words:
> Some memories are buried for a reason.
- Writer
