Chapter 25

I had just finished tidying up the living room when my phone buzzed. Cleaning always calmed me—something about the mindless repetition helped quiet the chaos in my head.

Now that I was fully recovered and could manage on my own, I’d dismissed Charlotte. She’d been an incredible help, but I didn’t need a nurse anymore. Independence suited me better.

I crossed the room and snatched up my phone. My finger hovered over the decline button when I saw Amelia’s name flash across the screen. Part of me was still irritated with her, but another part understood. If I loved someone, I’d probably move mountains for them too—even if it meant meddling in their fractured family relationships.

“Hey,” I answered, heading upstairs to my bedroom.

“Sophia, I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked, raw with emotion. “I crossed a line. I promised I wouldn’t bring up Nathan again, and I did.”

The sincerity in her tone caught me off guard. She sounded genuinely remorseful, even a little heartbroken. I wasn’t used to apologies that felt this real. Most people in my life had a habit of hurting me and never looking back.

“Amelia—”

She cut me off. “You were right. We can’t just expect you to forget. To pretend he didn’t spend years tearing you down. No amount of regret erases that kind of pain. I love him—God, I do—but that doesn’t mean I can ignore how cruel he’s been to you. You’re kind, Sophia. And he broke you. How could I ask you to forgive that? It’s not fair. Our friendship means too much to me to ruin it.”

I exhaled, exhaustion settling deep in my bones. Forgetting would be easier. But pain like this? It doesn’t just vanish.

People say time heals everything. Lies. Some wounds never close. You just learn to live with them—or drown them out.

“Look, I get it,” I said finally. “I know how hard this must be for you. I do value our friendship. But I don’t want to come between you and Nathan. The last thing I need is him hating me more than he already does.”

“He doesn’t hate—”

I didn’t let her finish. “Please. We both know he does. He’s made that very clear. And I’ve accepted it.”

Honestly, you get used to it when your entire family—husband, in-laws, everyone—despises you. It stung like hell at first. Now? It’s just background noise.

She sighed. “I don’t want to lose you, okay? I’ll figure out how to keep you both in my life—separately.”

I doubted that would work. Straddling the line between two people you care about, who despise each other? That kind of balancing act never ends well.

I opened my mouth to say exactly that when another call buzzed through. My lips curved into a smile for the first time since my argument with Amelia hours ago.

“I’ve got to go. Liam’s calling, and I want to talk to him before bed,” I said, already eager to hear my son’s voice.

“Of course,” she murmured. “But… we’re good? I swear I won’t mention Nathan again.”

“We’re good,” I assured her, and meant it.

“Thank you,” she breathed, relief palpable. “Tell Liam I said goodnight.”

“Will do.”

I hung up and dialed Liam back immediately.

“Hello?”

I froze. That wasn’t Liam.

My mother’s voice—soft, trembling—sent ice through my veins. I hadn’t spoken to her since the airport. Of all the people who’d hurt me, her betrayal cut the deepest. A mother was supposed to love her child. Protect them. Mine had done neither.

Now that I had Liam, I couldn’t fathom how she’d done it. I’d never abandon him.

“Sophia? Are you there?” she whispered. “Please… say something.”

My throat locked. This was the mother I’d ached for as a child. A year ago—hell, a month ago—I’d have clung to this moment. But it was too late.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me,” she said quietly. “I’ll put Liam on. Just… know I love you.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. If this was her idea of love, I wanted no part of it.

I heard her call for Liam, and seconds later, his small voice filled the line.

“Hi, Mommy.” But he didn’t sound like his usual bubbly self.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I miss you,” he mumbled. “It’s fun here, but… when can I come home?”

My heart shattered. I wanted him home. But his safety came first.

I was about to answer when a crash echoed from downstairs.

“Liam, let me check something. I’ll call you right back,” I said, already moving.

He agreed, and I hung up, gripping my phone as I crept downstairs. Maybe it was nothing. A fallen dish. A clumsy accident.

But the shattered glass of my back door—now swinging open—told me otherwise.

Someone was in my house. And I knew it wasn’t just a thief.

I fumbled for my phone, about to dial 911, when a sharp pain exploded at the back of my skull.

“This time, you won’t survive,” a stranger’s voice hissed.

Then everything went black.