Chapter 1 - The Weight of the Stone Steps
The rain didn't just fall; it drove sideways against the stone facade, turning the grand entrance into a slick waterfall. My bare feet found no purchase on the moss-darkened marble, yet I kept moving. Every muscle in my legs burned, tightening against the cold that soaked through the translucent fabric of my mint-green slip dress. The fabric clung to my skin like a second layer of ice, heavy and wet against my swollen stomach. With both hands, I gripped the rubber handle of the black rolling suitcase, wincing as the plastic wheels bumped erratically behind me, jarring my wrists with every single stair.
Behind me, the heavy oak doors banged open against the stone wall, framing the warm, golden glow of the foyer.
"Sophia, what the hell are you doing?"
His voice cut through the roar of the storm, sharp and disbelieving. I didn't stop. I couldn't afford the luxury of turning around, not when my resolve was already stretched as thin as the silk against my ribs. The gravel of the driveway waited at the bottom, dark and unforgiving.
Footsteps slapped hard against the stone. He was descending fast, his tailored black suit already darkening with rain, the white shirt plastered to his chest. I reached the second-to-last step, my foot sliding on a slick patch of algae. Panic flared hot in my throat, but I caught my balance against the cold handle of the suitcase, dragging it down onto the wet cobblestones with a heavy metallic clatter.
I paused, chest heaving, the cold air burning my lungs. Above us, framed by the arched doorway, two silhouettes lingered beneath the ornate chandelier. The older woman in the cream satin dress lifted her champagne flute, catching the amber light of the sconces. Next to her, the woman in the red gown leaned in close, their laughter swallowed entirely by the wind.
May you like
"Let her go," the older woman's voice drifted down, cool and detached. "She'll be back by morning."
That was the exact moment something inside me snapped shut, locking away every lingering doubt. I turned my head, my hair plastered across my wet face, catching his reflection in the dark, polished body of the parked luxury car. He reached out, his fingers brushing the wet air inches from my shoulder, his face twisted in a mixture of anger and disbelief. But I pulled away, stepping off the estate entirely and onto the dark road beyond the gates.
