Chapter 7
1700 Words
Sofia’s POV
The city woke under a bruise-coloured sky, clouds hanging low and heavy like unspoken threats. I stood by the window of Noah’s penthouse, a porcelain mug cooling in my hands, watching traffic inch forward far below. From up here, everything looked orderly. Predictable. Controlled.
A lie, of course.
Behind me, the soft click of keys echoed from Noah’s study. He’d been awake for hours. He always was. Men like him didn’t sleep so much as power down briefly, like machines designed for war and negotiation.
My phone buzzed again.
I didn’t need to look to know who it was.
Daniella
You think you’ve won. You haven’t.
I exhaled slowly and set the phone down without replying. Silence, I’d learned, could be sharper than any insult.
“Breakfast?” Noah asked from behind me.
I turned. He stood in the doorway, jacket already on, sleeves crisp, expression carved from stone. The calm mask of a man about to step into battle.
“Maybe later,” I said. “I’m not hungry.”
“You haven’t been hungry in days.”
I shrugged. “Adrenaline is filling in the gaps.”
His eyes lingered on me, assessing, calculating, but beneath it I caught something else—concern. Real, unguarded concern.
“Today won’t be easy,” he said. “The board wants a formal statement. Investors are restless. And…” He paused. “Daniel has been asking questions.”
My jaw tightened. “About me?”
“About us,” he corrected. “About the contract.”
I turned fully toward him. “How does he even know—”
“He doesn’t,” Noah said calmly. “But he suspects. Men like Daniel always do when they’re no longer the ones holding the leash.”
A flicker of grim satisfaction warmed my chest. “Good.”
Noah studied me. “You’re changing.”
“So are you,” I countered softly.
For a moment, something unspoken stretched between us. Then his phone rang, slicing through the tension.
He glanced at the screen and frowned. “I need to take this.”
As he turned away, a strange unease settled over me. The air felt… off. Like the moment before a storm breaks.
---
The charity luncheon was meant to be harmless.
A controlled environment. Neutral territory. Wealthy donors sipping champagne, pretending altruism while networking beneath crystal chandeliers.
Noah insisted I attend.
“They need to see you beside me,” he said. “Unshaken.”
So I wore ivory silk and a calm smile, my spine straight, my arm looped through his. Cameras flashed. Whispers followed.
That’s her.
The adopted one.
She’s prettier than Daniella.
He chose well.
The last one made my pulse stumble.
As we moved through the crowd, hands shook, pleasantries exchanged. I played my role flawlessly. Too flawlessly.
Then I saw her.
Daniella stood near the bar, radiant in red, her arm hooked through my mother’s. My father hovered nearby, his smile strained. They hadn’t expected me. That much was clear.
My mother’s eyes met mine. Surprise flickered, quickly smothered by something colder.
“Sofia,” she said when we approached, voice carefully neutral. “I didn’t realise you’d be attending.”
“I’m Noah’s wife,” I replied pleasantly. “Of course I’m attending.”
Daniella’s smile tightened. “You look… well.”
I returned it. “So do you. Red suits you. Very… aggressive.”
Her nails dug into her palm. “I heard your little video,” she said sweetly. “Very dramatic.”
“I lived it,” I said. “Drama was unavoidable.”
Noah’s grip on my hand tightened slightly. A warning. Or reassurance. I wasn’t sure.
My mother cleared her throat. “Sofia, perhaps we should talk. Privately.”
I met her gaze. “I think we’re past private conversations, Mother.”
Something dark flashed in Daniella’s eyes.
“You know,” she said lightly, “people are starting to ask questions. About how quickly you moved on. About whether this marriage is… authentic.”
The word hung in the air, sharp as glass.
Noah smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Our marriage is not up for debate.”
“Oh, I’m not debating,” Daniella said. “I’m just… curious. Aren’t you, Sofia?”
I leaned closer, lowering my voice so only she could hear. “Curiosity killed the cat. And I’m done being prey.”
For a split second, her composure cracked.
Then she smiled wider.
“I hope you enjoy your fairytale,” she whispered. “They always end.”
Before I could respond, she turned away, dragging my parents with her.
My chest felt tight. “She’s planning something.”
Noah’s voice was low. “I know.”
---
The first c***k came that evening.
We were halfway through dinner when Noah’s phone buzzed again. Once. Twice. Then incessantly.
He checked it, his expression hardening.
“What?” I asked.
He stood abruptly. “We need to leave. Now.”
My stomach dropped. “What happened?”
“Daniel filed an injunction.”
The words didn’t fully register. “An injunction for what?”
“To contest the legality of our marriage.”
The room seemed to tilt. “He can’t do that.”
“He can try,” Noah said grimly. “And he’s not acting alone.”
---
Back at the penthouse, chaos unfolded.
Lawyers flooded the living room. Screens lit up with documents. Voices overlapped. Words like fraud, coercion, breach flew through the air like shrapnel.
I sat on the couch, hands clasped tightly, trying not to fracture.
“They’re claiming Sofia married under duress,” one lawyer said. “That Noah manipulated her emotional state.”
I laughed hollowly. “He didn’t manipulate me. Daniel did.”
“They’ll twist it,” another replied. “Daniella has witnesses.”
My heart slammed. “Witnesses to what?”
“To your vulnerability. To your miscarriage. To your… instability.”
The word sliced deep.
Noah slammed his hand on the table. “Enough.”
The room went silent.
“They are not putting her on trial,” he said coldly. “This ends tonight.”
I looked up at him. “What are you going to do?”
His gaze softened when it met mine. “Protect you.”
“By destroying them?” I asked quietly.
“If necessary.”
The lawyers dispersed shortly after, leaving us alone in the vast, echoing space.
I hugged my arms around myself. “They’re trying to make me look weak again.”
“They won’t succeed,” Noah said firmly.
“But what if they do?” My voice cracked. “What if they convince the world I’m just a pawn you picked up when I was broken?”
He crossed the room in two strides and knelt in front of me, taking my hands. The gesture startled me.
“Look at me,” he said.
I did.
“I did not marry you because you were broken,” he said slowly. “I married you because you are unbreakable. And because—” He stopped, jaw tightening.
“Because what?” I whispered.
He released my hands abruptly and stood. “Get some rest. Tomorrow will be… loud.”
That night, sleep never came.
---
The next morning detonated like a bomb.
BREAKING: NOAH SMITH’S MARRIAGE UNDER LEGAL REVIEW
EX-LOVER CLAIMS BRIDE WAS MANIPULATED
My name trended worldwide.
I sat at the kitchen island, staring at the screen, numb.
Noah paced. “They leaked sealed documents.”
“Which ones?” I asked.
His phone buzzed again. He froze.
Slowly, he turned the screen toward me.
A medical report.
My medical report.
Details of the miscarriage. Dates. Notes. Trauma assessments.
My breath left me in a rush. “How did they get that?”
Noah’s voice was dangerously quiet. “Only one person had access.”
My blood turned to ice. “My mother.”
Silence confirmed it.
I stood abruptly. “I want to see her.”
“Sofia—”
“No,” I said, shaking. “I need to hear it from her mouth.”
---
I found her in the family home, sitting perfectly composed, tea untouched.
“You leaked my records,” I said without preamble.
She didn’t deny it. “It was necessary.”
“For whom?” I demanded.
“For Daniella,” she said simply. “She was suffering.”
A sound tore from my throat, half laugh, half sob. “So was I.”
She met my gaze, eyes cool. “You were never meant to be permanent, Sofia. This marriage… it disrupts things.”
“You sold my pain,” I whispered.
“You survived it,” she corrected. “You always do.”
I turned and walked out before I shattered.
---
By nightfall, everything burned.
Sponsors pulled out. Protestors gathered outside the building. News vans camped at the gates.
Noah stood by the window, phone pressed to his ear, voice sharp and controlled.
“Yes,” he said. “Initiate Phase Two.”
I stiffened. Phase Two?
He ended the call and turned to me.
“What is Phase Two?” I asked.
His eyes were dark, unreadable. “The part where I stop playing defense.”
A chill crept down my spine. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” he said slowly, “that I expose the one secret Daniel has been killing to keep buried.”
My heart raced. “What secret?”
Before he could answer, my phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
A single message.
You shouldn’t trust your husband.
Attached was a photo.
Noah.
Standing far too close to a woman I didn’t recognize.
Intimate. Private.
My breath hitched.
Another message followed immediately.
Ask him about the night his first wife died.
The room spun.
I looked up at Noah, my voice barely a whisper.
“Noah… what aren’t you telling me?”
His face went still.
Too still.
And in that moment, I knew
The man I married to save myself might be hiding the one truth that could destroy us both.
- Writer
