Anthony gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as he replayed Detective Grayson's words in his mind. They came to kill me in my own home. The gravity of the situation settled over him like a suffocating fog. This was no child's play—he was entangled in something far more dangerous than he had ever anticipated.
Next to him, Sophia was oblivious to the turmoil raging inside him. She had taken it upon herself to drive him to school today, her face lit up with excitement as she vibed along to the song blasting through the stereo. Carefree, singing along without a worry in the world.
Should he tell her everything? Would that put her in danger?
"Sophia…" His voice was barely above a whisper, but she heard him.
Her fingers instinctively moved to lower the volume as she turned to him, brows furrowing with concern. "Are you alright, Tony?"
He exhaled heavily, raking a hand through his hair. "I sketched Isla, Raina, and then involved a detective. Now his life is in danger because of me."
Sophia sighed, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. "I'm really sorry about that. Did anything happen to him?"
"No. I think Grayson is a skilled fighter," he admitted, though that did little to ease his guilt.
"I just think you should leave this matter to the older ones," she advised, her tone laced with worry. "I don't want them keeping an eye on you."
Anthony clenched his jaw. "But it doesn't change anything. They will strike at us, with or without us involving—" His voice cut off as his eyes widened in shock.
A figure stumbled onto the sidewalk ahead of them, her frail body barely able to hold itself up. He didn't even wait for the car to stop properly before jumping out.
"Raina?" He rushed to her side, his heart pounding as he took in her swollen face, the dark bruises marring her once-vibrant features.
The moment she saw him, she flinched and tried to flee. But he caught her wrist. "Raina, what on earth—"
Tears welled up in her eyes as he guided her toward the car, carefully adjusting the baby strapped to her chest. His heart clenched. A child?
"Is that… your baby?" he asked softly.
Raina hesitated, then sighed heavily when she caught sight of Sophia.
"You have nothing to worry about, Raina. She's my friend," he reassured her.
She wiped at her tears, her voice barely a whisper. "After my identity as a fake student was exposed, I told them I didn't want to do it anymore. They acted like they were fine with it, packed up, and moved to a new hideout. Then the threats started. I left Manchester, thinking I could escape, but… I have nowhere to go. And honestly… I don't have long to live."
Anthony's expression darkened. "But why did you agree to it in the first place?"
"They promised me a thousand pounds," she admitted, glancing down at the child in her arms. "I was pregnant at the time."
A sharp pang of regret shot through him. "I'll find you a house right away so you—"
"Anthony!" Sophia's sharp voice cut through the air like a knife.
He turned to find her glaring daggers at Raina. "Tell her to leave. Right now."
Anthony stiffened. "Stay out of this, Sophia."
Sophia's eyes burned with fury as she grabbed Raina and yanked her away from the car. Then, without warning, she slapped her across the face.
"You think you can fool us again?" she seethed.
Anthony pushed himself between them, his jaw set in defiance. "Don't ever interfere! Don't ever!" he spat before turning back to Raina. Guilt gnawed at his insides as he slipped some cash into her hands. "I'll come see you on Monday. I promise. Give me your phone number."
She hesitated for a moment before reciting the number. Anthony memorized it before getting back into the car with Sophia, who refused to look at him.
As Raina watched them drive away, she pulled out her phone, dialing a familiar number. A sinister grin curled on her lips.
"We'll finish him off on Monday."
***
The summer sun cast golden ripples across the pool's surface as Amelia swam effortlessly, her lithe body gliding through the water like a fish. Her fiancé, Raymond, sat nearby, watching her with a half-hearted grin, a glass of whiskey in his hand.
"Ray," she purred, floating on her back. "I'm absolutely loving this summer weather."
Raymond simply poured himself another drink.
Behind him, Ryan approached, his expression dark. He grabbed a glass and poured himself a drink, downing it in one go before slamming it on the table.
"Catarina is gone," he muttered.
Raymond looked up, startled. "Gone? Gone where?"
Ryan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "She wants to establish herself. Says she needs to build a fashion empire to qualify as the daughter-in-law of the Smiths." He scoffed. "But really, I don't care."
Raymond sighed. "I'm sorry, man. I guess it's our fate to love people our parents will never approve of."
Ryan let out a dry chuckle. "But what more could a man wish for? Sophia and Catarina are good women. They bring peace. They know how to run a home. I don't think any man could ask for more."
Raymond's gaze drifted toward Amelia, who was now lounging by the pool. "Amelia is spoiled and nasty," he admitted. "Our marriage won't last two years. I can already see it."
Ryan's eyes narrowed. "Raymond, I've admired you growing up—except for one thing. You never stand up for what you want. If you really love Sophia, prove it. Cancel this wedding."
Amelia strolled over, wrapping herself in a towel as she eyed them suspiciously. "Why did you both suddenly go quiet when I arrived?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
Ryan rolled his eyes and walked back toward the house.
Raymond poured himself another drink.
***
Sophia stirred the pot, the rich aroma of the dish filling the kitchen as Joyce Smith sat nearby, watching her with admiration.
"I can't believe none of the chefs could make this, and now you have to do something that's completely out of your line of work," Joyce said apologetically. "I'm really sorry, Sophia."
Sophia chuckled, stirring with ease. "In Tower Hamlets, trying new foods and sharing them with neighbors was a tradition. I love cooking because I love the smell of good food."
Joyce smiled. "Even in your masculine line of work, you never forget to be a woman. When Catarina was still here, you'd help her wash and clean. You did everything perfectly."
Sophia grinned. "Thank you, ma'am."
Joyce stood, brushing her hands together. "I'll wait in the sitting room until you're done."
As Sophia nodded and turned back to the pot, she suddenly heard approaching footsteps.
Assuming Joyce had returned, she glanced over her shoulder. But her heart plummeted at the sight of him.
Mark Smith.
The third son of the Smith household. The one who despised her the most.
An awkward silence settled between them as he yanked the fridge open, grabbed a canned drink, and took a long swig. Then, he turned to her, eyes filled with quiet fury.
"Cooking, cleaning, playing house—it doesn't matter. You will never be part of this family," he sneered. His voice dropped into a venomous whisper. "If Amelia jilts Ray because of your lowlife existence, I'll make you suffer."
With that, he stormed out.
Sophia only smiled and continued cooking.