Sophie's POV
The cold hospital air followed me as I stepped outside. The night was still, too still for how chaotic my thoughts were. Michael Grayson was beside me, his face as unreadable as ever. He adjusted his cufflinks, not sparing me a glance.
"You're on your own from here, Sophie," he muttered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I stopped walking, staring at him like he'd just slapped me. "Michael, are you serious? You're the only one I can trust with this. Please."
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I told you I'd help you this once. That's it. I have a family now, Sophie. I can't afford to get involved any further."
I swallowed the lump in my throat, but the frustration bubbling inside me was impossible to ignore. "A family? Michael, do you even realize what's at stake here? Cassandra isn't who she says she is. She's dangerous!"
He turned to face me then, his eyes hard. "And you think I don't know that? But you've got names now. You're smart enough to figure out the rest on your own. I can't keep risking everything for you."
His words hit me like a punch to the gut.
" How did you even manage to get it?"
FLASHBACK TO MICHAEL'S WEDDING
The wedding was a spectacle, the kind of event that screamed wealth and power. The ballroom was decked out in glittering chandeliers and tables overflowing with flowers. Everyone looked like they'd stepped out of a fashion magazine.
I didn't want to be there, but I had no choice. Cassandra Laine was the reason. I needed something on her, and this was my best chance.
She was across the room, laughing with some guests, her smile too perfect to be real. My stomach twisted. I hated how effortlessly she fooled everyone.
I waited for the right moment. When she stepped away from the group and headed toward the bar, I followed her.
"Oops!" I gasped, pretending to stumble and spilling my drink slightly on her shoulder.
Her head snapped toward me, her smile vanishing. "Excuse you," she said coldly.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" I stammered, grabbing napkins and dabbing at her dress. "I'm such a klutz."
She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed. "It's fine," she said through gritted teeth.
As I leaned in to clean up the mess, I discreetly plucked a single strand of hair from her updo.
"Let me get you another drink," I offered, but she waved me off, already turning away.
I walked off, heart pounding, clutching the hair like it was the key to everything.
Later That Night
I called Michael after the wedding. I needed someone I could trust to help me with this, and despite everything, he was still that person.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Sophie," he said when I told him what I needed.
"I don't care," I shot back. "This is bigger than you or me. If we don't stop her now, who knows what she'll do?"
He sighed heavily but eventually agreed. That's how we ended up in a small, dimly lit lab, handing over Cassandra's hair to a man Michael swore was discreet.
When the results came back, I couldn't believe what I was reading. Cassandra's real surname wasn't Laine. Her parents' names were listed, but there was no photo, no additional information to connect the dots. It was a start, but it wasn't enough.
BACK TO THE PRESENT
"And that's how I got the hair" I said and he shoved away turning his back at me.
I turned to him, clutching the paper with Cassandra's parents' names.
"Michael, this isn't enough," I said, my voice trembling. "I need more. I need photos, records, something concrete."
He shook his head, his expression tired. "I've done all I can, Sophie. This is where it ends for me. I have a wife now, a life that doesn't involve this mess."
"Michael, please," I begged, my voice breaking. "You know I can't do this alone."
He looked at me, and for a moment, I thought he might change his mind. But then he sighed and shook his head again.
"You're smart, Sophie. You'll figure it out," he said softly.
And with that, he unlocked the car doors.
Before Michael drove off, he rolled the window down one last time, his face shadowed under the dim streetlights. "One last piece of advice," he said, his voice low but firm. "Stay away from Cassandra and Damien. They're both dangerous, Sophie. You don't know what you're playing with."
His words lingered in the air long after he was gone, like the faint smell of smoke after a fire. Dangerous. I knew that already. I wasn't stupid. But I couldn't let fear stop me now.
I clutched the paper in my hand tighter, my fingers trembling. Michael's warning wasn't going to stop me.
The streets were quieter than usual, but my mind was loud, chaotic even. I shoved my hands deep into my coat pockets, the cold biting at my fingers. As I walked aimlessly, the city felt foreign, like I didn't belong here anymore.
"How did I get here?" I muttered to myself, my breath visible in the crisp air. "How did a PR strategist—one of the best—turn into some amateur detective?"
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. "I've lost everything. My sister hates me, and I'm chasing shadows. And for what? To dig into the past of some conniving woman who's probably already won?"
I stopped at a bench and sat down, staring at the cracked pavement beneath my feet. "How did it come to this?"
I pulled out my phone, my fingers hovering over Hannah's contact. I hadn't heard from her in days. Almost a week, actually. She hadn't answered my calls, hadn't replied to my texts.
My thumb hovered over the dial button, but my heart clenched. Would she even pick up?
I took a deep breath and pressed the call button. The phone rang, and with every passing second, my chest tightened.
"Come on, Hannah. Pick up," I whispered.
But it went to voicemail. Again.
"Hey, it's me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I just... I just want to know if you're okay. I know you're mad at me, and you have every right to be. But please, just let me know you're safe. That's all I need to know."
I ended the call and stared at the phone in my hand. The silence was suffocating.
Without realizing it, my feet carried me to the one place I hadn't visited in months—my parents' burial ground.
The air felt heavier here, the weight of loss pressing down on my chest. I walked slowly, my boots crunching against the frost-covered grass. When I reached their graves, I froze.
Two simple headstones, side by side. Their names etched into the cold marble.
"Hi, Mama. Hi, Papa," I whispered, my voice trembling.
I dropped to my knees, my fingers tracing the letters on the stone.
"I don't know what to do anymore," I admitted, tears spilling down my cheeks. "I've tried so hard to be strong, to take care of Hannah, to make you proud. But I've failed. I've failed both of you, and I've failed her."
The words came pouring out, raw and unfiltered.
"She hates me now. And maybe she's right to. Maybe I'm the reason everything's falling apart."
I buried my face in my hands, sobbing.
"I don't even know who I am anymore," I said between broken breaths. "I used to be someone—a billionaire's daughter, a respected PR strategist. Now I'm... nothing. A nobody."
The wind picked up, rustling the trees around me. It felt like the world was listening, like the universe was holding its breath.
I looked up at the sky, wiping my tears. "I just wish you were here," I whispered. "You always knew what to do. You always knew how to fix things."
The silence was deafening, but in it, I felt a strange sense of calm. Like my parents were still with me, watching over me.
I stood up, brushing the dirt off my knees.
"I don't know if I can fix this," I said, looking at their graves. "But I'll try. For Hannah. For us."
As I turned to leave, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out, my heart skipping a beat.
It was a message.
From Hannah.