(Sophia's POV)

I gave the cab driver the address of the penthouse apartment Alexander and I shared.

Theodore Blackwood had given it to us as an engagement gift. A symbol of his blessing, he'd said.

Now it just felt like a cage.

The doorman greeted me with his usual smile. I forced one back and headed straight to the elevator.

When I walked through the door, Margaret, our housekeeper, looked up from arranging flowers in the foyer.

"Miss Bennett! You're back already?" Her eyes scanned behind me, searching for Alexander. "Is Mr. Blackwood still at the office?"

"He's busy," I said flatly.

Margaret's brow furrowed slightly, but she didn't press. "Shall I prepare dinner for you?"

"No, thank you. I won't be staying long."

I climbed the stairs to our bedroom, dragging my suitcase behind me.

The apartment was massive-three floors of marble and glass overlooking Central Park. Theodore had spared no expense.

But it had never felt like home.

I pulled my suitcase onto the bed and started throwing clothes into it. Dresses, shoes, toiletries. I didn't bother folding anything.

As I passed Alexander's study, something made me stop.

The door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open.

His desk was immaculate as always. Leather-bound books lined the shelves. Everything in its place.

Except for the iPad sitting on his desk.

I stared at it, remembering the one time I'd tried to use it to look up a recipe. Alexander had practically ripped it out of my hands, his face twisted with anger.

"Don't touch my things, Sophia," he'd snapped.

But Isabella? She played with his phone all the time, scrolling through it like it was hers.

My feet carried me to the desk before I could think better of it.

I picked up the iPad. The screen lit up, asking for a passcode.

My fingers hovered over the numbers.

I typed in Alexander's birthday. 0-8-1-5.

Incorrect passcode.

I tried my own birthday. 0-3-2-2.

Incorrect passcode.

My chest tightened. I already knew what would work, but I had to see it for myself.

Isabella's birthday. 1-1-0-7.

The screen unlocked.

Of course it did.

The home screen was sparse. Just a few apps-email, calendar, notes.

But there was a photo album.

My hand trembled as I tapped it open.

Hundreds of photos. Maybe thousands.

Isabella and Alexander as children, building sandcastles on a beach.

Isabella and Alexander as teenagers, at some formal event, her in a white dress, him in a tuxedo.

Isabella and Alexander last year, laughing at some private joke.

Isabella. Isabella. Isabella.

Every single photo was of her.

I scrolled faster, my vision blurring.

There wasn't a single picture of me.

Not one.

My throat burned. I thought of all the times I'd asked Alexander to take a photo together.

"I don't photograph well," he'd always said with a dismissive wave.

The only photos we had together were our engagement pictures. Professional shots that had cost a fortune.

He'd complained the entire time about how much he hated being in front of a camera.

But here he was, smiling in hundreds of candid photos with Isabella.

I closed the iPad and set it back on the desk exactly where I'd found it.

My hands weren't shaking anymore.

I felt nothing. Just a cold, hollow emptiness.

I finished packing and dragged my suitcase down the stairs.

Margaret appeared in the hallway, concern etched on her face.

"Miss Bennett, are you going on another business trip?"

"Something like that."

"When will you be back?"

"I'm not sure."

She looked like she wanted to say more, but I was already heading for the door.

I didn't look back.

(Alexander's POV)

I returned to the penthouse the next evening.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

"Margaret!" I called out.

She appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.

"Mr. Blackwood, you're home."

"Where's Sophia?"

Margaret's expression shifted to something like pity. "She left yesterday, sir. With her suitcase."

"Another business trip?"

"I... I'm not sure. She seemed upset. She didn't say when she'd be back."

I waved a dismissive hand. "She's just being dramatic. She'll come back when she's done sulking."

Margaret opened her mouth, then closed it again. "Of course, sir."

I headed upstairs, loosening my tie.

Sophia was always like this. Emotional. Overreacting to everything.

She'd cool off in a day or two and come crawling back. She always did.

We were engaged. The wedding was inevitable. She knew that.

I walked into the master bedroom and tossed my jacket on the bed.

Everything looked normal. Neat. Untouched.

I didn't notice the empty space on the wall where our massive engagement photo used to hang.

My phone rang as I was pouring myself a whiskey.

Grandfather.

I answered immediately. "Hello, Grandfather."

"Alexander." Theodore Blackwood's voice was warm but firm. "Did you and Sophia get the marriage license?"

I hesitated for half a second. "We had to reschedule. There was an emergency at the office."

"An emergency." His tone suggested he didn't quite believe me.

"Yes. But we'll go right after your birthday party. I promise."

There was a pause. "Isabella's back."

"I know."

"I want you and Sophia to formalize things soon, Alexander. No more delays."

My jaw tightened. "Of course, Grandfather."

"Good. I'll see you both tomorrow at the party."

He hung up.

I stared at my phone, then pulled up Sophia's contact.

Will you be at the party tomorrow?

I waited.

One hour passed.

Finally, my phone buzzed.

?

Just a question mark.

Rage flared in my chest. I typed furiously.

Stop being childish, Sophia. Grandfather's birthday is important. You need to be there.

Her response came almost immediately.

We broke up. I'm not going.

My fingers flew across the screen.

Don't be ridiculous. Do you have any idea how good Grandfather has been to you? How much he's done for you? You OWE him this.

The three dots appeared, then disappeared. Then appeared again.

Finally, her message came through.

Fine. I'll go. Settle the appearance fee first.

Below the text was a PayPal link.

I stared at it in disbelief.

An appearance fee. She wanted me to pay her to attend my grandfather's birthday party.

My hand tightened around the phone until my knuckles turned white.

But I needed her there. Grandfather would ask questions if she didn't show up.

Cursing under my breath, I clicked the link and transferred ten thousand dollars.

The payment went through.

Within seconds, she'd accepted it.

Her reply popped up immediately.

thx

Just a GIF of someone giving a thumbs up.

Not a single word more.

I threw my phone onto the couch and downed my whiskey in one burning gulp.