Chapter 50
I'm a goddamn coward. Plain and simple. Two fucking months, and I still can't bring myself to face Sophia—or even speak to her.
What was I supposed to say? How could I explain to the woman I accused of deceiving me when it turned out she was innocent all along?
Shame burns through me. Shame for everything I did to her. Shame for letting her shoulder the blame. Shame for standing by while everyone treated her like trash because I believed she deserved it.
I don’t know how to face her. How to look into her eyes and apologize. Hell, I don’t even know how to apologize to anyone—because I’ve never been wrong before. I’m always fucking right. Except when it comes to Sophia.
I take a sharp sip of whiskey, trying to drown the guilt. It doesn’t work. But for a few minutes, I can pretend my entire world wasn’t shattered by the truth.
"Sir, Mr. Sterling is here to see you. He seems... distressed," Rosalind, my housekeeper, interrupts.
"Let him in," I mutter, turning away.
When the truth came out, Sebastian couldn’t keep quiet any longer. He shared the video with everyone. Now both families know Sophia wasn’t lying when she said she was drunk that night.
Everyone felt guilty—except Isabella. She clung to her grudge, insisting it didn’t excuse Sophia "going after a man who wasn’t hers."
My relationship with Isabella hasn’t improved. She keeps pushing, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to give in.
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. I wanted a future with her. Yet here I am, pushing her away for reasons I can’t even name.
The door opens, and Nathan storms in.
"What’s going on?" I ask, immediately noticing the panic in his expression.
"I don’t know, but I need your help." He rakes a hand through his hair. "I’m freaking the hell out."
I stand, rounding my desk. I grab a glass, pour whiskey, and shove it into his hands.
"Breathe. Then tell me what happened."
He downs the drink in one gulp. "Sophia called me out of nowhere. Before she could say anything, I heard a scream—then nothing. I tried calling back, but no answer. I called Amelia—they were supposed to be together—but I can’t reach her either. It’s been two hours, and neither of them is picking up."
My body tenses. Sophia would never willingly call Nathan. Something’s wrong.
"Do you know where they went?" I’m already pulling out my phone.
"No. Amelia didn’t tell me."
Maxwell answers on the first ring. "Track Sophia’s car. Now."
"On it."
I had a tracker installed on her car without her knowledge. After she demanded I withdraw her security detail, it was the only way to keep her safe.
Seconds later, the location pings back—near one of my clubs.
"Let’s go," I snap at Nathan.
We arrive in minutes. The bouncers let us through without question. A bartender—Samuel—recognizes them from the photo I show him and leads us to their private booth.
"Both their purses are here. So is Amelia’s phone," Nathan says, rifling through her bag.
"Did you see them leave?" I demand.
Samuel shakes his head. "They came in, ordered drinks, talked for a while. The brunette left for the bathroom, then went outside. The other girl followed. Neither came back."
Rage coils in my gut.
"You didn’t think to check on them?" I slam him against the wall.
He yelps. "I—I didn’t notice! It’s been packed tonight!"
"What the hell is happening here?" Theodore, my manager, strides over.
"What kind of idiots do you hire?" I snarl.
Theodore pales when he recognizes me. "M-Mr. Blackwood?"
"Explain it to him, Nathan. Because if I do, I’ll kill someone."
While Nathan fills him in, I storm to the back exit. The alley is empty—no sign of them. Then my shoe kicks something.
Sophia’s phone.
Nathan rushes out with a tablet. "You need to see this."
The security footage shows Sophia stepping outside—before a man strikes her unconscious and drags her into a waiting car.
Kidnapped.
But where the hell is Amelia?
"At least we have the bastard’s face and license plate," Nathan says.
I ignore him and dial Sebastian.
"Find someone for me." I send him the video.
Hold on, Sophia. I’m coming.