Chapter 1
Sophie
Sometimes, life seems so good, you have to wonder what you’re missing.
In reality, I couldn’t see the red flags because I was trying so hard to be loved.
When I told Max that I found it strange and uncomfortable that his friend, Natalia, was at every family gathering, he brushed me off, reassuring me I was overthinking.
“Our families have been close since before I was born. She’s more of a sister to me at this point.”
A sister. I found that hard to believe since Max and Natalia had dated on and off throughout college and the years leading up to Max and my meeting.
When we met, she was living in another country with her boyfriend.
I knew nothing about her or the threat she would become.
The only obstacle in what was seemingly a picture-perfect romance was my future mother-in-law.
Helen was the one who first told me about Max and Natalia’s romantic history.
From the moment we first met, I knew Helen didn’t like me.
She always looked at me like she had just gotten a whiff of shit.
She never held back when grilling me on my lack of formal education.
It was clear that she found my pedigree lacking.
I graduated high school, but my family couldn’t afford to send me to college.
The small midwestern farm I grew up on wasn’t something Helen could boast about to her society friends. My parents were kind, simple people. They rewarded themselves after a day of hard labor with cold tea on the porch, watching the sunset together.
They found joy in giving back, loading the pantry full of preserves made from our crops so they had enough to share with anyone who might need it. My parents loved each other deeply, and they lived their lives in easy companionship. It was as if they were one being.
My mother used to say that, in another life, she and my father were two trees planted side by side.
Both strained toward the sun, bending and stretching for its warmth, until slowly, they began to lean into each other.
With time, their branches wove together, and their roots entwined until they became one, rising as a single tree, reaching endlessly toward the sky.
They worked hard for the life they had and took the time to enjoy it.
They would have been happy for me to stay and work the farm with them, marry, and move to my own ranch nearby.
Despite that desire, they understood and respected my need to leave the state.
Before leaving, I was able to get certified as a phlebotomist.
Having grown up on a farm in Nebraska, I wasn’t squeamish, and I liked the idea of working in the medical field in a small way.
I chose Louisville because I had a friend there who helped me get a job at a private medical facility near her.
I slept on her couch for a few weeks until I was able to move into my own place.
The few times my parents had visited and met Max and his family, they were unimpressed. The opulence of the Townsend family lifestyle both overwhelmed and confused them.
“Who needs all these people living in their house? You gotta have five people up and running before you take your morning piss?” my dad had asked after the first visit to Max’s parents’ house.
I didn’t disagree with them. It had taken a lot of getting used to. Shortly after we got married, Helen insisted on taking me shopping. What I naively hoped was going to be a bonding session turned into one of the most demoralizing and traumatizing moments of my life.
In front of the store employees and other obnoxiously rich customers, she frankly told me that my clothing and lack of style were unbecoming of her family’s name. Now that I was a Townsend, it was my responsibility to respect and represent that name.
She had filled the oversized dressing room with outfits. Every time I tried one on, she managed to insult me before insisting I purchase the item. The inference was clear: anything was better than what I currently owned.
“The color does nothing for your complexion, but it does cover that extra weight you carry in your arms and stomach.” Snapping at an employee, she asked if it came in black before having me move on to another outfit.
When we went to check out, she raised her eyebrows at me, insisting I use the card Max had given me. It was supposed to be for gas, groceries, and basic necessities. Under Helen’s glacial stare, I spent the equivalent of a down payment on a car on clothing.
I felt sick the entire ride home, my body clammy and shaky from spending that much money on a few dresses. I kept everything in the bags, laid out on the bed, afraid to touch them. When Max came home, I explained what had happened, insisting we go back so I could return everything.
“I’m not trying to be ungrateful, but it was terribly uncomfortable, and she put me in a really unpleasant situation,” I explained to Max. He seemed bemused.
“Mom is a tough woman, but she means well. Don’t worry about the cost. She’s got a point. Plus, you deserve to have some lovely new clothing, darling. We do have several formal events coming. It’s good to have something appropriate for those.” In one mouthful, he had managed to throw me for a loop.
Should I be upset? Insulted? Other women would be salivating over the brands in those bags. I didn’t want to embarrass Max, but that feeling of wrongness never left me.
Every time I slipped one of the new outfits on, I felt like a part of the real Sophie—the old Sophie—was getting erased.
A distance had developed between my parents and me.
Our conversations were no longer easy. I felt as if they were judging me in a way that differed from what I was already getting from Helen and Max.
In hindsight, all of those were red flags. The honest, lame truth was that I had been blinded. I loved Max. He seemed perfect, untouchable, when we first got together. I couldn’t believe he was interested in me, that he noticed me out of all the women he could have.
I was twenty-four when we started dating, but I was inexperienced and unworldly. A lot of things slipped past me in those early days, my belief being that the error was on my end, my misunderstanding.
I never had big dreams for myself. The idea of leaving Nebraska had been my sole focus for so long that, once I made it, I wasn’t sure what my next move was. I was just figuring things out. Max was a patient at the office where I worked.
I met him for the first time after living in the city for nearly a year.
Louisville was like an entirely new planet compared to Nebraska.
Everyone moved at a faster pace, with purpose and determination.
I always felt a bit behind, like I was doing everything I could just to keep my head above water.
I didn’t have any friends outside of a few nurses I ate lunch with.
My roommate worked in PR, and our hours were basically reversed.
Without realizing it, a full year had passed, and I barely had a social life or any love life to speak of. Which left me vulnerable and alone when I finally met Max. He quickly became my everything, and it helped that I had no one else to turn to for advice.
When he asked me out that first time, I was shocked, but I managed to politely decline, which seemed to amuse him.
The following week, he sent flowers and chocolates to the office, a note with his number attached.
I remembered holding that damn card all day, almost blurring the ink with my sweaty palms. Finally, once I was back in my apartment, I texted him a thank-you note.
My phone rang, and I picked it up, Max’s voice on the other line asking me out again.
He was charming and insistent, and it was with genuine regret that I declined again.
As flattered as I was, it was frowned upon to date patients, and I couldn’t risk losing my job. Not to mention the fact that I knew he was several years older than me, and I wasn’t sure that was something I was comfortable with.
Max’s first visit was for a routine checkup; he wasn’t due for a follow-up appointment for at least six months. Instead, I found him back in my chair a few weeks later.
“Do I have to let you drain me dry before you’ll accept a date with me?” he asked, his lopsided smile disarming me.
“You’re a patient. I can’t. I-it’s not allowed,” I managed to stumble out, looking down at my white sneakers to avoid his gaze. When I glanced up at him, Max looked genuinely surprised and eventually started to laugh.
“Is that why you won’t go out with me? I’ve known Dave since middle school. I swear, it’s not a problem. Now, please put me out of my misery?” he begged, and I caved. I had shamelessly eavesdropped when he first came in and knew he was close friends with Dr. Richards, who ran the practice.
From there, he swept me off my feet. Max lavished me with attention, gifts, and over-the-top dates. He sent flowers to the office and took me to the types of restaurants and bars I had only seen in movies.
A part of me was taken by the luxury, the newness of it all. It was so different from everything I knew and had grown up with. For our one-year anniversary, he surprised me with a trip to Paris. We used the family plane—something I hadn’t realized existed until then.
It all sounded so shallow and vain, in hindsight.
I had never left the country before. Paris was where I had always wanted to go.
I had mentioned it to Max on our first date, and I couldn’t believe that he remembered.
I felt special, important. The extent of the family’s wealth was something that intimidated me, and I was honest and upfront with Max about that.
He called me all the time, always wanting to know where I was and sending cars so I wouldn’t take public transportation.
Max love-bombed me, masking his control as care.
I had my concerns. Our engagement was quick and felt punctuated by the return of Natalia, his best friend and childhood sweetheart.
It became glaringly clear that everyone but Walt in Max’s family would have preferred Natalia over me. But there was something secret, something unspoken, that I wasn’t privy to until far too late.
It took overhearing that conversation between my husband and mother-in-law to kick me into gear. I knew what I had to do.