Playing Mrs. Beckett

Chapter 12

Silence stretched. Sophie waited, and waited, and waited, but Adrian remained. The shock was too great. He thought he had the perfect defense. He had never expected Sophie to hold the most damning information of all.

“Sophie, I—”

“I can’t do this, Adrian. Not anymore,” Sophie cut him off, walking towards her desk’s drawer. “I gave you chances. I thought you’d confess. And what do we have here?” Sophie scoffed. “Reward? Temporary access?”

Sophie took out a brown envelope, then threw it before the kneeling Adrian. “Did you take her to the amusement park as a reward, too? Taking her to the cinema? Embracing by the lake? Are those rewards too?”

With trembling hands, Adrian took the content of the envelope. He examined the photos one by one, each one more incriminating than the last.

“You—you can’t do this, Sophie,” Adrian said, his voice weak, but there was a trace of defiance.

“What can’t I do?”

“Taking photos. This … this is illegal. It's a breach of privacy…”

Sophie laughed. The kind that is free and unrestrained. She had never done this for three years—it didn’t fit Mrs. Beckett’s image. “And is that the point right now, Adrian?”

Adrian said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the photographs. Sophie stepped closer, and when she reached Adrian, she crouched. “The point is,” Sophie said, her voice low. Deep. Full of threat. “What kind of professional obligation justified j*********f over the phone while wishing you’re inside her?”

Adrian shivered. His thought scrambled for an explanation. Something. Anything. The necklace was easy to explain. The fingerprint was, too. He had crafted a story for those. One he thought was perfect. And indeed it would, on an unassuming, unaware target. But now, judging by the photos, Sophie was definitely not in that category.

His mouth was open, then closed. Nothing. What could even justify that phone call?

Sophie sneered, walking towards the door. When Adrian’s hand tried to hold on to her, she shifted, and his hand met only air. “I can’t be here right now—I don’t want to. Looking at you, it felt filthy. I don’t deserve to live like this.”

Her hand turned the knob, and she swung the door open. Before she closed it again, she threw a glance at Adrian. Now, she didn’t even bother to hide her disgust.

“I can’t live with you anymore, Adrian Beckett,” she said, her tone like a judge delivering their sentence. “I want a divorce.”

“No!”

And so the door closed.

Sophie walked, her steps fast but steadfast. She grabbed the keys to her car, one she purchased on her own from the revenue her clothing brand made. It was a Volvo. She deliberately chose it so it seemed believable. After all, in people’s eyes, it suited the image of modest, genuine Mrs. Beckett who had stood beside Adrian before he came to money.

She got in the car, her hands found every control without thinking. In a second, she had left the garage, then out to the main street. When she stole a glance to the rear-view mirror, she didn’t see anyone following. Great. She couldn’t be in that penthouse anymore. She couldn’t face Adrian without gagging. She didn’t want to let him see it—the fact that he still had an effect on her.

She drove to a random parking lot, intending to leave the car there indefinitely. From there, she walked to a subway station, took random trains until her investigator gave her the clear—if anyone’s following, they had lost her. So she turned, hopped onto a taxi, and instructed them to an address. A high-rise upscale condominium in the most established part of New York.

The moment she arrived, she walked toward the receptionist and gave them a business card. When they saw the card, they immediately understood. The key was prepared in a flash and before she knew it, she was up in the elevator.

Finally. Finally somewhere she could actually rest. No performance, no need to read other people. She allowed herself one moment: eyes shut, back against the wall, just breathing. She savored everything until she heard a ding. A sign that she had arrived at her unit—the only one connected to this private elevator.

Lights lit up as she triggered the motion sensor, and she finally had a full sight of the condo. Clean, minimalistic. It had been empty for three years, yet there was no dust to see.

She could feel her eyes getting hotter. Not good. Everything that happened had made her rather sensitive, she couldn't believe it would be a clean condo that finally broke her.

As if on cue, her phone rang, with a ringtone that was reserved for only one person. She took the call, and a hopeful voice immediately filled her heart.

“Sophie! The reception contacted me. You’re finally using that unit I bought for you. So? What do you think? I keep the furniture to the minimum, just so you can decorate it however you want. If you need contact with a designer, I can—”

Somehow, this was it. The warmth and consideration was what finally opened the floodgate, and for once, Sophie let herself sob.

“Oh dear, what happened to my baby sister?”