13. Sophie
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Sophie
Three days.
That’s how long I last before I crack.
Three days of living with Dominic, of sleeping in his bed, of waking up wrapped in his arms. Three days of watching him with Anna - patient and gentle and somehow able to calm her when nothing else can. Three days of falling deeper and deeper into something I’m not ready to name.
Three days before the doubt becomes too loud to ignore.
She must never find out who I really am.
The words won’t leave me alone. They follow me through my days, interrupt my thoughts at random moments, whisper in my ear when I’m trying to fall asleep.
Who is he really?
He told me about Celia. About knowing Caleb. It should be enough. It should explain everything.
But something doesn’t add up.
His apartment is too nice for someone who “works in investments” without specifying what kind. His lawyer friend is too well-connected. His confidence when dealing with Caleb is too assured, like he’s playing a game he knows he’ll win.
I’m not suspicious by nature. Three years with Caleb taught me that suspicion leads nowhere good. But this is different. This isn’t jealousy or paranoia.
This is survival.
If I’m going to trust Dominic - really trust him, with my heart and my daughter and my whole damaged future - I need to know who he is.
So when he goes out for a run on the morning of the fourth day, I start looking.
I tell myself I’m not snooping. I’m just… exploring. Getting to know my surroundings. It’s not like I’m going through his drawers or reading his emails.
Except that’s exactly what I end up doing.
His office is sparse like the rest of the apartment - a desk, a computer, a filing cabinet that’s locked but not very securely. I find the key in the third drawer I check and tell myself this is necessary. This is self-preservation.
This doesn’t make me a terrible person.
The first file I open is financial records. I’m not an accountant, but I understand enough to see the numbers don’t make sense. There are too many zeros. Way too many zeros.
Dominic isn’t just comfortable. He’s wealthy. Seriously, substantially, buy-a-private-island wealthy.
Why would he hide that?
The second file is corporate documents. A company name I vaguely recognize - something in tech, something that made headlines a few years ago. And there, on the letterhead, a name.
Dominic Brennan, Founder and CEO.
Brennan.
The room tilts.
Brennan is Caleb’s last name. It was my last name, until a week ago.
Dominic Brennan.
Dominic Rath.
The same person.
He’s… Caleb’s brother?
No. No, that can’t be right. Caleb doesn’t have a brother. He’s never mentioned one. In three years of marriage, he never once-
But even as I think it, pieces start falling into place. Dominic’s intensity when he talks about Caleb. The way he knew about Celia without explaining how. The way he intervened that first night, like he’d been waiting for the chance.
I won’t let Caleb hurt anyone else again.
Anyone else.
Not just Celia.
Me.
He’s been protecting me from his own brother. This whole time. And he never told me.
I don’t realize I’m crying until a tear drops onto the document in my hands.
The front door opens.
“Sophie?” Dominic’s voice, slightly breathless from his run. “I picked up bagels. That place you like, the one with-”
He stops in the doorway of the office.
His face goes pale.
“Sophie.” My name sounds like a death knell from his lips. “What are you doing?”
“Brennan.” I hold up the document with shaking hands. “Your name is Brennan.”
He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t try to explain or deflect or charm his way out of it.
He just says: “Yes.”
“You’re Caleb’s brother.”
“Yes.”
The simplicity of the admission breaks something inside me.
“You lied to me.” My voice cracks. “This whole time. You told me you knew him, but you didn’t tell me - you let me think-”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me?” A laugh rips out of me, bitter and broken. “Protect me from what? From knowing that the man I’ve been sleeping with is related to the man who tried to destroy me?”
“From Caleb.” Dominic takes a step toward me, and I take a step back. Pain flickers across his face. “Sophie, please. Let me explain.”
“Explain what? That you’ve been lying since the moment we met?”
“I didn’t lie about everything.”
“But you lied about this.” I throw the document at him. It flutters to the ground between us, a paper barrier that feels insurmountable. “This is the most important thing, Dominic. This is who you are. And you hid it from me.”
“Because I was afraid.” His voice breaks, and I’ve never heard him sound like this before. Vulnerable. Exposed. “I was afraid that if you knew, you’d think I was like him. That you’d run. That I’d lose you before I even had you.”
“So instead you decided to lie? To manipulate me into trusting you?”
“It wasn’t manipulation-”
“What would you call it?” I’m crying openly now, tears streaming down my face. “You showed up when I needed help. You brought me groceries. You saved me from your own brother. Was that all part of the plan?”
“There was no plan.” He runs a hand through his hair, frustration and desperation warring on his face. “I saw him about to hit you and I couldn’t - I couldn’t let it happen again. Not after Celia. Not after everything I didn’t do when I should have.”
“Celia was real?”
“Everything I told you about Celia was real. She was my friend. Caleb destroyed her. I helped her escape.” He swallows hard. “Our parents disowned me for it. For choosing her over him. For telling the truth about their golden boy.”
Some of the rage drains out of me. Not all of it - not nearly all of it - but enough that I can breathe.
“They disowned you?”
“Threw me out. Cut me off completely. I was nineteen.” He laughs, and there’s no humor in it. “I changed my name. Built a company from nothing. Made a fortune just to prove I didn’t need them.”
“And you never told Caleb.”
“He didn’t recognize me when he saw me. I was a teenager the last time we were in the same room.” Something dark passes over his face. “He was always too self-absorbed to notice anyone but himself. Even his own brother.”
I don’t know what to feel. The betrayal is still there, still sharp, but it’s tangled up with sympathy and understanding and a horrible, creeping realization.
“You should have told me,” I whisper.
“I know.”
“I trusted you.”
“I know.”
“How am I supposed to trust you now?”
He doesn’t answer. We stand there, the length of his office between us, and I feel like I’m standing on a cliff edge, trying to decide whether to jump or step back.
“I need time,” I finally say. “I need to think.”
“Sophie-”
“Don’t.” I hold up a hand. “Don’t try to convince me. Don’t try to fix this right now. Just… let me think.”
He nods slowly. His whole body is tense, like he’s fighting every instinct to reach for me.
“I’ll be in the living room,” he says. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Then he turns and walks away, leaving me alone with a document that changes everything.