Chapter 4 Sophia, What Are You Doing?

She drew a ragged breath, her lips twisting into a cold smile. "Of course you can't see it. How could you?

"In your eyes, Isabella will always be the fragile damsel who needs your protection. And me? Sophia, the villain. Born wicked, born vile—the woman who murdered your beloved.

"So nothing she does could ever be wrong, and nothing I say could ever be anything but lies. Isn't that right?"

Her voice grew weaker with each word, her strength draining away until the last few syllables were barely more than breath.

James felt a sharp irritation prickling under his skin. "Sophia! Enough! You committed the crime, and now you want to drag Isabella's name through the mud? Clearly that fall didn't knock any sense into you. You haven't learned a damn thing!"

He bent down abruptly and seized her wrist, his words slow and deliberate. "I'm warning you. Stop trying to drive a wedge between us. Stop slandering Isabella.

"You're lying here because of your own actions! If you keep running your mouth, I won't hesitate to make sure you never open it again."

The monitor began beeping frantically. Pain shot through her wrist like shards of ice. This time, no nurse came rushing in.

Sophia's brow furrowed, the words grinding out between clenched teeth. "Then you'd better... you'd better kill me now. Because as long as... as long as I'm breathing... I won't let any of you get away with this!"

The absolute hatred blazing in her eyes struck something in James's chest—something that made him flinch and release her wrist as if burned.

He straightened, adjusting his slightly disheveled cuffs, turning away so he wouldn't have to look at her. His voice returned to its usual cold detachment.

"Focus on recovering. Stop wasting energy on pointless grudges.

"And one more thing—you'd better behave yourself. Otherwise, I can't guarantee your sister upstairs will continue receiving treatment."

He strode out of the room without looking back.

The door clicked shut. The silence that followed felt like death itself.

The fragile resolve Sophia had been clinging to shattered completely. Tears came without warning, scalding as they slid past her temples.

She bit down on her lip—hard enough to draw blood—to keep from sobbing aloud.

Two weeks crawled by before Sophia's condition stabilized enough to transfer her from intensive care to a private VIP room.

Her lower body remained numb and useless, but at least she could move her upper half somewhat and manage liquids.

That afternoon, sunlight streamed through the window, warm against her skin. Sophia was watching a butterfly dance outside when the door burst open.

A middle-aged woman barged in wearing cheap, garish clothes and heavy makeup. She was heavyset, and trailing behind her was a young man in his early twenties.

The man looked slow, vacant—until his eyes landed on Sophia. Then they took on a lingering, predatory gleam.

Sophia glanced at them once, then looked away.

Her stepmother, Ella Garcia, and the son she'd brought into the family, Eugene Bailey.

"Well, well! If it isn't Mrs. Smith!" Ella's smile was all mockery. "What are you doing laid up in here? I heard you lost the baby and took a nasty tumble down some stairs. How careless."

Sophia's expression hardened. "Who told you to come here? Get out."

Ella planted her hands on her wide hips, her face twisted with spite.

"What kind of attitude is that for your own mother? I heard you were in the hospital and came to check on you, and this is the thanks I get? No wonder Mr. Smith doesn't want you."

Heard? For her to track Sophia down here, to know the details about the baby—this had Isabella's fingerprints all over it.

Sophia's frown deepened. "My mother's dead. You and that son of yours? We're nothing to each other.

"Don't make me say it twice. Get out."

"You cheap little bitch! How dare you talk to me like that!"

Ella's face contorted with rage. She jabbed a finger toward Sophia's face. "You marry up and suddenly you forget where you came from, is that it?

"If I hadn't been kind enough to leave you girls money for food back then, you would've starved in the streets! Now you've got the nerve to speak to me this way?"

Sophia almost laughed.

When her father's investments had collapsed and bankruptcy swallowed everything, Ella had abandoned fifteen-year-old Sophia and her six-year-old sister, making off with anything of value in the house.

It was only because her father's friend had called the police and tracked Ella down that they'd recovered even a fraction of the money. And she called that 'leaving' them something?

Sophia didn't waste breath arguing. She reached for the call button.

Ella lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. Her other hand swung up and cracked across Sophia's face.

The slap echoed through the room.

Sophia's head snapped to the side. A burning handprint bloomed across her cheek. Her ear rang.

"Hit her! Hit her!" Eugene clapped his hands, grinning stupidly. But his eyes were fixed on where Sophia's hospital gown had loosened at the collar.

"You ungrateful little wretch!" Ella wasn't finished. She grabbed a fistful of Sophia's hair and yanked her head back. "Give me back the money your father left! It was mine to begin with, you hear me? Mine!"

Pain seared across Sophia's scalp. She tried to struggle, but her useless lower body offered no leverage, and Ella's grip pinned her upper body down.

That's when Eugene—who'd seemed so vacant—shuffled closer with a disturbing grin. He reached out with dirty, grasping hands toward Sophia's chest.

"Pretty... touch..." The words came out slurred, but his fingers were already brushing her hospital gown.

Every hair on Sophia's body stood on end. She shoved with everything she had.

"Get away from me! Don't touch me!"

Eugene stumbled backward, nearly falling. His face twisted with sudden violence. "Hit, hit," he mumbled, lurching toward her again.

Ella egged him on. "Eugene, she won't let you touch her? Then make her! Show her what happens!"

Sophia couldn't fight them off. Tears of rage and terror streamed down her face. She lunged forward and tried to bite Ella's arm, but Ella yanked her back by the hair.

"Oh my God! Sophia! What are you doing?!"

Isabella stood in the doorway, one hand pressed to her mouth, eyes wide with shock.

James was right behind her.

Isabella's voice rang out, dripping with manufactured horror. "Sophia! Just because you're sick and stuck in a hospital bed doesn't mean you can... you can throw yourself at anyone! Even someone like him?! How can you humiliate James like this?!"