Sophia's POV
I was still holding the card from the roses when my phone rang again, and for one disoriented second I thought it might be the boutique calling back, or Damien checking in, or even, absurdly, Ethan himself, brazen enough to call directly after everything.
It was worse than any of those.
*Mom.*
The contact name still read that way, unchanged, because I'd never gotten around to editing it, the way you don't get around to a lot of things when some part of you is still hoping the old version of a relationship might come back on its own. I stared at it for three rings before I answered, some old, deeply worn instinct in me unable to simply let it go to voicemail.
"Hello?"
"Sophia." Margaret Bennett's voice arrived exactly the way it always did—clipped, immediately businesslik
