(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.