Sophia's POV
I froze, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. “Good morning,” I managed, my voice a little tight. My mind was scrambling for an excuse, a way to deflect any recognition. Please don’t remember me from Dad’s house. Please don’t remember me from Dad’s house.
He leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. He tapped a finger against his chin, his gaze unwavering. “You know,” he said slowly, a small smile starting to form, “I do remember seeing you. But it wasn’t at… well, it wasn’t here.”
My breath hitched. Was this it? Was my cover about to be blown? I braced myself for the inevitable question, the piercing look that would reveal he knew exactly who I was, or at least who I used to be.
Then, his smile widened. “Yes, I remember now! You were at the gala last
