Chapter 4

Sofia

I stared at her face, barely glancing at my phone. Seeing their photo together felt like someone was carving my heart with a knife.

"You're probably trying to seduce him again with your little tricks," she continued, her tone venomous like a snake's hiss. "That's how you wormed your way into our family, isn't it? Too bad it won't work this time."

"He pursued me!" I growled, my mind flooding with memories of Princeton nights, Blake holding my hand outside the library, smiling as he called me the most stubborn girl he'd ever met. "He loved ME, Sofia! Not your pile of money or your goddamn social status!"

"He never truly loved you," Julianna spat, her façade of composure cracking. "It was just a momentary lapse of judgment. Now he finally sees you for what you are—a gold-digging whore."

"Bullshit!" My voice rose, my body trembling with rage. "He respected me! We planned for children, for a lifetime! You destroyed everything, you vicious old bitch!"

Her laugh was like shattering ice, piercing my ears. "Children? With your broken body? Doctors said your chances of getting pregnant were like winning the lottery. Even if you did conceive, Blake needs an heir worthy of the Sterling family name."

Her words were like a knife straight to my heart, but I clenched my jaw, refusing to let her see how much it hurt. If there is a God, please let me get pregnant, if only to spite this witch. "Your class warfare bullshit is disgusting," I said coldly.

"Not disgusting—realistic," she replied, fiddling with her blinding diamond bracelet, putting on a show. "Amanda has connections, networks, understands our circle. You? You've been pretending, acting like you belong. But you'll always be an outsider. Amanda and Blake's union is what everyone expects—equals coming together."

I stared at her, hardly believing this dinosaur was still living in the Middle Ages. "Are you fucking mental? Love isn't some goddamn transaction!" I shouted, thinking: What century are you living in?

A strange expression crossed her face, something between pity and mockery. "Oh, Sofia, that's exactly why you'll never belong here. Do you really think love is worth anything in our world?" She flipped her perfectly styled hair. "Even Amanda understands it's just a business arrangement."

For a moment, I actually felt sorry for Amanda. Then I remembered her face, those calculating eyes, and how she'd started mimicking me months before the plane crash—my hairstyle, my clothes, even the way I spoke, like she'd been cast from the same mold.

Fuck, she was like that psycho from "Single White Female." It suddenly hit me—her scheme with Blake must have started long before my coma. She'd been planning to replace me all along.

I was such a fucking idiot. How did I miss it? I'd never trust her again, or anyone connected to Julianna.

Her gaze suddenly dropped to my stomach, her voice dropping to a snake-like whisper. "Your little tricks won't work. Even if you're pregnant now, don't think you can use a child to claim Sterling money." She stepped forward, her presence suffocating. "I'll make you disappear from Blake's life completely, as if you never existed."

Doctors said natural conception was nearly impossible for me, but not entirely out of the question. God, could I actually be pregnant? The thought flashed through my mind, triggering a fierce protective instinct. She would never touch my child. Never!

"I'm not pregnant," I lied, staring directly into her eyes, forcing composure. "Doctor says it's just stress-induced gastritis."

Julianna moved closer to the bathroom door, like a stalking leopard, the air thick with threat. "You'd better not be. If I discover you're carrying, I'll show you what hell looks like. You'll be crying in court, begging me to spare that child, and I'll savor every second of your breakdown."

My face drained of color, my heart hammering like it might explode. You heartless bitch, threatening your own grandchild? What kind of monster are you? But I bit down hard, keeping my expression blank. "You need to leave," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "Security is on their way."

She laughed loudly, as if I'd told the funniest joke. "Security? Little girl, don't forget who has the real power here." She turned, her heels clacking against the floor. "I want this apartment emptied by the weekend. Your little show is over."

The moment she left, I locked the door, securing every deadbolt. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That woman was dangerous. She would hurt me—hurt us—to get what she wanted. With shaking hands, I ran back to the bedroom, digging a pregnancy test from my emergency bag. I'd bought it months ago, foolishly hoping my late period was a sign.

Five minutes later, I stared at two blue lines, sinking down onto the edge of the bathtub, my legs too weak to stand.

"Jesus..." I whispered, "I'm carrying his child. It's a fucking miracle." Everything had changed.

I would never let those vipers near my baby. Never.

A determination I'd never felt before exploded inside me. This wasn't just about me anymore—it was about protecting this innocent life from the Sterling family's toxic garbage. They could have their money and status. I would take my child and build a better world, a more authentic world.

I packed quickly, taking only essentials. The pregnancy test and packaging went carefully into my bag—no one could find out. As I zipped my suitcase, I felt the sadness in my heart replaced by a fierce survival instinct—and maternal resolve. No one would harm my child.

Taking one last look at what had once been "our home," I wheeled my suitcase out. The door closed behind me, shutting a chapter of my life.

Two days later, I sat in a luxury suite at The Pinnacle hotel, a silver tray of exquisite hors d'oeuvres arranged before me like a magazine cover. Lauren would arrive any minute. I'd ordered champagne, though I wouldn't touch a drop. I needed Lauren to think I was moving forward, that I was okay.

I couldn't tell anyone about the pregnancy—not yet, not even Lauren. The fewer people who knew, the safer my baby and I would be.

I'd scheduled an appointment with a doctor in Boston next week. Given my endometriosis, this pregnancy would require careful monitoring from the start. Elizabeth, my Harvard mentor, had already cleared her guest room for me until I found my own place. The escape plan was taking shape. Just a few more days in this hellhole, and my baby and I would be free.

The hot shower had eased my morning sickness somewhat, but as I adjusted the appetizer arrangement, I still felt slightly dizzy. I rested my hand gently on my still-flat stomach, marveling at the tiny miracle inside.

"I'll protect you, baby," I whispered, "whatever it takes." Your dad might be brainwashed, your grandmother might be Satan incarnate, but you'll always have me, little one.

Lauren would arrive soon. I walked into the bathroom to check my appearance. Steam from the shower still lingered, and I wiped my face with the hotel's towel. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hit me, and I grabbed the marble countertop to steady myself. Damn, when would this morning sickness pass?

"Don't tell me you're planning some kind of 'surprise,'" Amanda's voice came from the doorway, sharp as a knife. "Blake hates surprises, especially from people like you."

I froze, my mind buzzing. How the fuck was she here? How did she find me? And how did she get in? I tightened my grip on my bathrobe, suppressing the panic rising in my chest as I turned to glare at her. "How the fuck did you get in here? Get out!"