Chapter 45 Sophia
T hese past seventy-two hours have been pure hell.
I spent a ridiculous amount of money on a last-minute ticket to get back to Chicago. It was unsurprisingly expensive and it’s definitely going to set me back for the foreseeable future. Not like it matters anyway, because I’ve had a lot of time to think due to the lack of sleep.
I’ve always been a fighter, you know? I have always had a fight-or-flight response for everything. It’s how I stay productive, it’s how I’ve managed to survive, but this… This was the last blow that obliterated me. If I had any fight left in me, I would be trying to deliver justice. I would be trying to explain and make amends.
Fuck that and everyone else, too.
I walk into Vogue Elite’s building with one thing in mind. I don’t knock on Max’s door when I storm into his office. He looks up, surprise lacing his face for a moment before he shoots me a knowing, smug grin. “To what do I owe this pleasure? ”
Without a word, I slam my letter of resignation on his desk.
He looks at it, tilting his head, amusement creeping into his voice. “Oh, leaving us so soon?”
“Why’d you do it?” I ask, not giving him any context.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he says.
I roll my eyes. He knows damn well what he did.
“Good to see you haven’t lost your writing talents, at least.”
After the slight mental breakdown I had over it, I had time to mull it over. He must have gotten into my laptop, grabbed all my notes, and twisted them to the point of no return. Max is a lot of things, but he’s not stupid. He was looking for an opportunity to fuck with me and took it.
He rubs his chin, giving me an enigmatic look. “You really thought I was going to let that little empty threat you gave me the other day fly?”
“It really doesn’t matter now, does it?”
I was determined to go to the VP and show her everything, but when I logged in to my work email, everything was gone. It’s my fault, really, if you think about it. Leaving the laptop here, I practically handed it to him on a silver platter.
“I suppose not.” He laughs as he points at the letter. “You sure this is what you want?”
Instead of answering, I turn around and walk out that door for the last time, because I’m officially done with it all. I’m done with the city. There’s nothing for me here. It doesn’t matter how good of a writer I am, journalism jobs in Chicago are a rarity. There’s a reason I started as an assistant and worked myself to the bone to rise through the ranks. All the hours wasted, the tears, the anger, and the stress were for…nothing. Because I’m tired, and I’ll be grabbing my things and not looking back ever again.
Sweat prickles down my neck as I tape a box labeled BOOKS . Packing is taking me less than I thought, because my apartment is the size of a box and I’ve always been sort of a minimalist. The less I had, the bigger my apartment looked. All I have left to do is sell the furniture, which will help me get some extra money that will help me cover for Mom’s mortgage one more month.
Who would have thought, at the ripe age of twenty-six, I would be moving back to my childhood home? The thought alone makes me shiver. It’s only temporary, though. As soon as I get a job, I am moving us out of that damn house.
As I’m folding my winter clothes, I hear some keys rattle and the front door opening. I don’t even bat an eye, because it was only a matter of time before my best friends came to check in on me. I disappeared on everyone, and they have been calling and texting.
Everyone but him.
I should be thankful he was smart enough to take the last thing I said to him seriously. But it stings. I thought, after everything, we deserved a little more than this. It doesn’t matter, anyway. He made his feelings quite clear. I have only myself to blame, thinking this time it was going to be different.
Before I can spiral any deeper, I slam the door shut on those thoughts. I can’t afford to think about him, because when I do, it feels like a thousand tiny needles are piercing my chest. Giving it any more thought is just going to slowly kill me.
Doesn’t matter if you don’t think about it. It’s killing you all the same.
I sigh, giving a final shove to all those emotions and slapping on a smile as I walk out of my room. Both of my friends are standing in the living room, their faces twisted in concern as they take in the mess around them.
“What’s happening here?” Aria asks carefully.
“Oh.” I wave my hand around. “I’m moving,” I manage to say with a casual tone.
Isabella’s eyes flash with a hint of hurt as she takes a step back. “Were you planning on telling us?”
“Of course, silly.” I force my practiced laugh.
They both stand there, staring at me expectantly. For the first time in a long time, I can feel my mask slipping. I fake a cough as I walk back into my room and busy myself with more packing, folding boxes and shoving clothes inside, trying to keep my hands moving.
Aria follows me, snatching the coat I’d spent twenty minutes folding out of my hands.
“Hey! That took me forever to fold!” I snap, trying to grab it back.
“I’m not doing this with you,” Aria says firmly, pointing a finger at me. “You’re not going to pretend everything’s fine when I know it’s not. I’ve given you three days to cool off, but enough is enough. Sit .” She points to the bed with authority.
“Bossy much?” I mumble but comply, crossing my legs beneath me.
She levels me with a dry, exasperated look. “You forced my hand. ”
Isabella lingers in the doorway, arms crossed. “Matteo told me what happened.”
I snort, shaking my head. “I can’t believe those words came out of your mouth. You? Talking to Matteo?”
She shrugs nonchalantly. “We’re married now,” she says, as if that explains everything.
“Yeah, and you still haven’t explained what happened there.”
Aria snaps her fingers in front of my face, pulling me back. “No. I’m not letting you deflect. While I’m dying to know what’s going on with those two, I’m more worried about you. Where are you going? Why are you packing?”
“I’m moving back home.”
“To Kentucky ?!” they both exclaim at the same time.
“Where else?” I shrug. “Turned in my resignation letter this morning. My lease is ending soon. It works out perfectly.”
“Oh, for the love of God,” Isabella mutters, rubbing her temples. “So, you’re quitting your job and running away because you and Lorenzo broke up?”
“It’s complicated,” I say, keeping my tone neutral as the weight of the truth presses against my chest painfully.
Aria’s nostrils flare in frustration. “You better start filling in the blanks, because none of this makes sense.”
“I’m done talking about it,” I mumble, getting up to resume folding.
But of course, Aria isn’t about to let it go. She’s as stubborn as I am. She grabs the clothes I’ve just folded and tosses them onto the floor. “I’ll keep doing this all day if I have to.”
“Are you five ?” I snap. “Do you know how hard winter clothes are to fold?”
“Talk. Now ,” she orders .
“I didn’t write the article. Max did. I tried to explain that to Lorenzo, but he didn’t believe me.” I shrug, my voice tight as I avoid their eyes.
What I don’t say is how deeply I fell in love with him. How his words cut into me like glass, leaving me in pieces. What I don’t say is how utterly shattered and numb I feel. What I don’t say is I am trying to escape. I want to leave this city and never look back, because I believed in something that was never real. He made me fall for him, and now all I have to show for it are my scars.
“Why did Max do that? I know he’s always been an asshole, but that’s too far, even for him,” Aria points out.
“For the past few years, I’ve been doing Max’s job,” I confess. There’s no point hiding it anymore. My life at Vogue Elite is over. “That’s why I always worked insane hours.”
“That asshole!” Isabella exclaims. “Why didn’t you report him?”
I shrug sheepishly.
“You wanted to make sure you could still take care of your mom, didn’t you?” Aria asks softly, brushing my forearm. “You were scared he’d fire you.”
I nod, the knot in my throat tightening. “And look at where it got me. The second I told him I was done being his puppet, he did this.”
“You need to report him, Sophia,” Isabella says firmly.
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“So, this is it? You’re just…leaving?” Isabella’s voice wavers, and it shocks me, because Isabella isn’t the type to show emotion.
I close the distance between us and pull her into a tight embrace. “You can always come visit. Now that you own a jet and all, Mrs. Carter ,” I joke.
“I have a feeling even if she wasn’t Mrs. Carter, Matteo would give her the world.” Aria snickers. “God, I’ll never get used to saying that.” She crosses her arms, tapping her index finger against her cheek. “Isabella Carter,” she says, testing the name like it’s a foreign word on her tongue.
Isabella sniffs, stepping back and giving us a dry look.
After a beat of silence, Aria looks at me. “Is this what you really want?” she asks softly.
I let out a long sigh, nodding.
They exchange a quiet glance before looking back at me, understanding etched into their expressions. I open my arms, pulling them both into a tight hug, holding on to the comfort they bring.
Despite everything, I can tell my friends are sad. I can feel their unspoken worry, how much they don’t want to see me go. And honestly, it breaks my heart a little.
But we don’t talk about it for the rest of the night. Instead, they help me pack, keeping the conversation light, and for a few hours, they manage to help me forget, for the most part. I don’t think there’s enough will in this world that can help me forget about the man who simultaneously mended and broke my heart.