Chapter 143
The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the bedroom floor. Sophia stretched lazily, savoring the rare moment of peace.
Her phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand.
She groaned, reaching for it. The screen flashed with an unknown number.
Her fingers hesitated before swiping to answer.
"Sophia Blackwood?" A deep, unfamiliar voice sent a chill down her spine.
"Yes?" She sat up abruptly, gripping the phone tighter.
"You should be more careful about the company you keep." The line went dead.
Sophia stared at the screen, her pulse racing.
A soft knock at the door made her jump.
"Mom?" Liam’s voice was muffled through the wood.
She exhaled shakily before calling out, "Come in, sweetheart."
The door creaked open, revealing her son’s tousled hair and sleepy eyes. "Did I wake you?"
She forced a smile. "No, I was already up."
Liam shuffled closer, frowning. "You look weird."
Sophia ruffled his hair. "Just tired."
He didn’t look convinced but shrugged. "Can we have pancakes?"
"Sure." She stood, pushing the unsettling call to the back of her mind.
Downstairs, the scent of coffee filled the kitchen. Ethan was already at the counter, scrolling through his tablet.
He glanced up, his sharp gaze immediately narrowing. "What’s wrong?"
Sophia hesitated. "Just a weird call."
Ethan set the tablet down. "What kind of weird?"
She bit her lip. "A threat. Or a warning. I don’t know."
His jaw tightened. "Number?"
"Blocked."
Liam tugged at her sleeve. "Mom, the pancakes?"
She blinked, refocusing. "Right."
Ethan moved to the stove, taking over. "I’ll handle breakfast. You call Harrison."
Sophia nodded, stepping into the hallway.
Her lawyer answered on the first ring. "Sophia?"
She relayed the call, her voice low.
Harrison sighed. "I’ll look into it. But be careful."
She hung up, her unease growing.
Back in the kitchen, Ethan slid a plate of golden pancakes toward Liam. The boy grinned, oblivious.
Sophia watched them, her chest tight.
Someone was watching.
And they weren’t happy.
"Honestly, I've never seen anyone's heart melt so fast over my dog. Most people find him utterly unbearable," the warm, deep voice made me spin around so quickly I nearly gave myself whiplash.
Holy hell.
Up close, the man was breathtaking. Jet-black hair, emerald green eyes that could pierce through steel, sharp cheekbones, a jawline carved by the gods, lips that promised sin, and a body that screamed temptation. He was ridiculously attractive—and he knew it.
I could practically hear the warning bells in my head. "Slow down, Sophia. You’ve been burned by pretty faces before. Don’t make the same mistake twice."
I wasn’t. I’d sworn off love and men, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t admire a masterpiece when I saw one. I wasn’t dead.
"Have we met before?" The words slipped out before I could stop them. "You just... look familiar."
He studied me for a long moment before answering. "Yeah. Same school. You were two years below me."
I racked my brain, but nothing clicked. Probably because I’d been too busy obsessing over Ethan to notice anyone else.
"Lucas Montgomery," he supplied when I kept staring blankly.
The second he said his name, it hit me.
"Oh my God—Nerd Lucas?" I blurted out, then immediately cringed at my own volume.
He groaned at the old nickname, shooting me a glare that did absolutely nothing to intimidate me.
"Wow. Talk about a glow-up," I said, still gaping.
The Lucas I remembered was scrawny, with thick glasses constantly sliding down his nose, braces, and a face full of angry red acne. He’d been the library ghost while the rest of his peers were sneaking off to make out in supply closets.
In short—not someone you’d glance at twice.
Now? Now he was devastating. The kind of man women fantasized about. The kind who could stand toe-to-toe with Ethan Blackwood in the looks department.
"Yeah, well. Thanks," he muttered, clearly uncomfortable.
"I also remember you had the biggest crush on Isabella. How’d that work out for you?" I teased, not meaning any harm.
Back then, when he wasn’t buried in books, he’d trailed after Isabella like a lovesick puppy. The only problem? Isabella only had eyes for Ethan. When they got together, they became the golden couple—every guy wanted to be Ethan, every girl wanted to be Isabella.
"And you were head over heels for Ethan. How’d that work out for you?" he shot back, irritation flashing in his eyes.
"Touché," I murmured.
The old ache flared, but I shoved it down.
I didn’t know Lucas well, but I thanked God on his behalf. Thanked Him for sparing Lucas from Isabella’s love—because her love for Ethan would’ve destroyed him, just like Ethan’s love for her destroyed me.
"Dad, can I watch TV?" A sweet voice pulled me from my thoughts.
I turned to see an adorable little boy standing behind Lucas, with the same striking green eyes.
"Hi, I’m Sophia," I said, unable to resist.
"Hi," he replied shyly, and my heart instantly melted.
"What’s your name?" I asked gently.
"Hunter."
"I have a son around your age—Liam. You should come over and meet him after school. He’d love a new friend." I glanced at Lucas. "If that’s okay with your dad, of course."
Hunter looked up at Lucas. A silent exchange passed between them before Lucas sighed in defeat.
"Fine," he muttered.
I studied him, my gaze locked onto his. There was something in his eyes—something raw and wounded, something that called to the broken pieces inside me.
He shifted uncomfortably. "Look, I’m sorry about Thor wrecking your garden. I’ll send someone to fix it tomorrow."
Thor. Fitting name for the massive husky.
"Thor," Lucas called, and the dog trotted obediently to his side.
After a brief nod from Lucas and a shy smile from Hunter, they disappeared through a gap in the hedge I’d never noticed before.
I stood there, watching their retreating figures until they vanished into the house next door. Only then did I realize what I’d seen in Lucas’s eyes.
Pain. Hurt. A soul as fractured as mine.
In him, I saw a reflection of my own darkness—the kind I’d spent years running from.
A kindred spirit.
And as the realization settled over me, one question burned in my mind:
What—or who—had hurt him so badly?