16. Sophie
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Sophie
The park is beautiful in the morning light.
Dew glitters on the grass. Joggers pass in colorful bursts. An old man feeds pigeons on a bench nearby, oblivious to the drama about to unfold.
I’m early. I wanted time to steady my nerves, to remind myself why I’m here.
I’m not afraid of Caleb. Not anymore.
I keep telling myself that. Eventually, I might believe it.
Dominic’s somewhere nearby - I don’t know where, he insisted on staying hidden - and knowing that helps. But this is something I need to do myself.
“Sophie.”
I turn.
Caleb’s walking toward me, arms spread wide, smile firmly in place. He looks perfect, as always. Tailored coat, expensive watch, not a hair out of place. The picture of a concerned husband worried about his troubled wife.
I want to vomit.
“Thank God you’re okay.” He reaches for me, and I step back. Hurt flickers across his face - practiced, calculated. “Sophie, please. I’ve been so worried.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Care about you? Care about our daughter?”
“Don’t pretend.” My voice is steady, and I’m proud of that. “I know what you’re doing, Caleb. The concerned act, the worried husband routine. I’ve seen behind the mask now. It doesn’t work anymore.”
His expression shifts. Just slightly. Just enough.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then let me refresh your memory.” I take a step toward him. “You cheated on me with our babysitter. You tried to hit me in Alexa’s apartment. You broke into the place I was staying and left a threatening note in our daughter’s crib.”
“Sophie-”
“You don’t love me. You never did. I was just something you wanted to own. A trophy to display, a wife to complete the picture.” My hands are shaking, but my voice isn’t. “Well, I’m not your trophy anymore. And I’m never going back to you.”
He stares at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, the mask drops.
“You think you can just leave?” His voice is cold now, all pretense gone. “You think you can take my daughter and disappear and there won’t be consequences?”
“I’m not taking her anywhere. I’m filing for divorce and reasonable custody. You can see Anna whenever-”
“Reasonable custody.” He laughs, and it’s a cruel sound. “I’m her father. I’m a respected surgeon. You’re a cashier at a grocery store. Who do you think the courts are going to side with?”
“The one who didn’t try to hit his wife.”
“Your word against mine.” He steps closer, and I hold my ground. “And who’s going to believe you, Sophie? Poor, unstable Sophie who ran away from her perfect husband and shacked up with a stranger?”
“He’s not a stranger.”
“No?” Caleb’s smile turns predatory. “Do you even know who he is?”
My heart stutters, but I keep my face neutral. “I know exactly who he is.”
“Do you?” He leans in, lowering his voice like he’s sharing a secret. “Did he tell you about his history of violence? About the girlfriend who ran away because she was terrified of him?”
“Celia ran away from you.” The words come out sharp as knives. “She was terrified of you. Dominic was the one who helped her escape.”
Something flickers in Caleb’s eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition.
“So you do know,” he says slowly. “You know he’s my brother.”
“I know everything.” I lift my chin. “I know about your parents disowning him for defending Celia. I know about the years he spent building a life without you. I know that he’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.”
“He’s a liar.”
“And you’re not?”
We stare at each other, the air between us thick with hatred.
“You’re making a mistake,” Caleb says finally. “Choosing him over me.”
“I’m not choosing him over you. I’m choosing myself.” I take a breath. “I’m choosing to be someone you can’t hurt anymore. Someone who doesn’t need your approval or your money or your so-called love.”
“You’ll regret this.”
“Maybe.” I turn to leave, then stop. “But probably not.”
I walk away.
I don’t look back.
Caleb calls after me - threats, promises, some pathetic attempt to get the last word - but I tune him out. His voice fades into the background noise of the park, just another sound I don’t need to hear.
When I reach the edge of the park, Dominic steps out from behind a tree.
His face is tight with controlled anger, and I know he heard everything. I know he wanted to intervene, to defend me, to put himself between me and his brother.
But he let me fight my own battle.
And somehow, that means more than any rescue ever could.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m okay.” I take his hand. “Let’s go home.”