Chapter 128

The hospital corridor stretched endlessly before Sophia, its sterile white walls closing in on her.

Her heart pounded against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Liam’s small hand trembled in hers, his wide eyes filled with unspoken fear.

"Mommy, is Daddy going to be okay?" His voice was barely a whisper.

Sophia swallowed hard, forcing a reassuring smile. "He’s strong, sweetheart. He’ll fight."

But the truth gnawed at her.

Ethan Blackwood had been rushed into emergency surgery after the explosion at the gala.

The doctors hadn’t given her any guarantees.

Isabella appeared at the end of the hallway, her face pale. "Sophia!"

Sophia’s grip on Liam tightened.

Isabella reached them, breathless. "Nathan just called. They’ve arrested Daniel Carter."

Sophia’s stomach twisted.

Daniel—her new lover, the man she’d trusted—was behind this?

It didn’t make sense.

But then, nothing did anymore.

The doors to the operating room swung open.

Dr. Bennett stepped out, his expression unreadable.

Sophia’s breath hitched.

"Mrs. Blackwood," he began, his voice steady. "Your husband is stable—for now."

Relief flooded her, but it was short-lived.

Dr. Bennett’s next words sent ice through her veins.

"But there’s something else. We found traces of a rare toxin in his blood."

Sophia’s vision blurred.

Toxin?

Who would—

Then it hit her.

The wine.

Ethan had taken a sip from her glass at the gala.

A glass meant for her.

Someone had tried to kill her.

And Ethan had paid the price.

Liam tugged her sleeve, his voice trembling. "Mommy?"

Sophia knelt, pulling him close. "It’s okay, baby. Daddy’s going to be fine."

But inside, a storm raged.

This wasn’t an accident.

This was war.

And she would find out who was responsible.

No matter the cost.

Across the room, her phone buzzed.

An unknown number.

A single message:

"You should have stayed gone."

Sophia’s blood ran cold.

The game had just begun.

When I set my plan into motion, I never imagined I'd fall for her. That realization hit me like a freight train—the cruelest irony fate could have thrown my way.

I thought it would be simple. Eliminate her, claim what was rightfully mine. But Sophia wasn’t just another target. She wasn’t someone you could discard or forget. She was the kind of woman who rewired your soul, who made you question every dark choice you’d ever made.

I felt it the second my heart betrayed me. I fought it—clawed against it like a drowning man fighting the tide. But love doesn’t ask for permission. It crashes into you, relentless.

By the time I admitted the truth to myself, the damage was irreversible. The clock was ticking. The truth would surface, and I’d lose her forever. So I clung to her, selfishly stealing every second I could, knowing it would never be enough.

Hurting her is my greatest sin. Her pain carved into me, deeper than any blade. When she shattered, I shattered with her. I traded our future for greed, and if she never forgives me, I’d deserve it.

"Daniel, you’ve got a visitor," a guard barks.

I’d refused my parents every time they came. Shame coiled in my gut like a venomous snake. They took me in. Loved me as their own. And I repaid them by trying to murder their real daughter.

How could they still want to see me? If our roles were reversed, I wouldn’t have spared a second glance.

"Daniel…" The guard’s voice sharpens. I glare over my shoulder, icy silence my only reply.

For a heartbeat, I consider sending them away again. But something lodges in my throat. The words die before they can form.

I give a stiff nod. He gestures for my hands. The cuffs click into place, cold and familiar, before he leads me out.

I’m new here, but no one tests me. They’ve learned the hard way—I don’t break easy.

The moment I step into the visitation area, my blood turns to ice.

Sophia sits in the far corner, her posture tense, fingers twisting in her lap. The guard uncuffs me, but I barely notice. Every step toward her feels like walking through a dream.

"Sophia?" Her name scrapes raw from my throat as I sink into the chair opposite her.

I drink her in—memorizing the curve of her lips, the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. This might be the last time I ever see her. She’s probably here for closure. Women need that, don’t they? Before they move on.

Her gaze flickers to mine, then away just as fast. Like looking at me physically hurts. And God, it does. Seeing her flawless face only hammers home what I’ve lost. I’ll never hold her again. Never marry her. Never watch her belly swell with my child.

The agony of it roots deep, a blade twisting in my chest. My heart—what’s left of it—aches in ways I didn’t know were possible.

"I wasn’t sure if I should come," she murmurs, voice fraying at the edges. "Or if you’d even care. But I had to."

Her uncertainty guts me. I did this. Broke her trust so thoroughly she hesitates to speak to me.

"What is it, Sophia?" I soften my tone, fighting the urge to reach for her.

She inhales sharply, then falters. "I—"

My stomach knots. "Sophia…"

"I’m pregnant," she whispers, staring at the table between us.

The world tilts. Did I hear her right?

"What?"

"Three months," she says, firmer now. "I found out last week."

A father.

The words detonate in my skull. We created life. I remember every inch of her beneath me, the way she gasped my name like a prayer.

And now she’s carrying my child.

No one else could ever be the mother of my baby. No one but her.