Chapter 3 - The Cold Descent
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The descent of sixty-two floors took exactly one minute and forty seconds. To Sophia, it felt like an eternity suspended in a vacuum.
When the elevator doors finally parted at the lobby level, the scent of white orchids hit her like a physical blow. Just half an hour ago, she had admired the floral arrangement, thinking about how much Adrian loved the smell of orchids in his foyer. Now, the fragrance was suffocating, sickly sweet like a funeral parlor.
She walked past the night concierge, a tall, distinguished man named Henry who always offered her a warm smile.
“Leaving so soon, Miss Bennett?” Henry asked, looking mildly surprised. “Mr. Moretti’s car is usually waiting for you.”
“I’ll take a cab tonight, Henry. Thank you,” Sophia managed to say, forcing her lips into a polite, empty smile.
She stepped out into the crisp, biting air of the Manhattan night. The city was alive, buzzing with yellow cabs, neon lights, and the distant wail of sirens. She hailed a taxi, sliding into the worn leather backseat and giving the driver her address in Brooklyn.
As the cab sped down the FDR Drive, the adrenaline that had carried her through the confrontation finally evaporated, leaving behind a crushing, paralyzing exhaustion.
Four years.
She thought about the holidays they had spent wrapped in blankets by her fireplace. She thought about the time she had gotten a terrible flu, and Adrian—a man who commanded a criminal empire—had sat on the edge of her bathtub, gently washing her hair. She thought about the way he looked at her when she solved a complex logistical problem for one of his legitimate shipping fronts.
It had all been a meticulously crafted performance. While he was holding her, he was negotiating a marriage treaty with the Russo family. He was promising his life to Valentina.
Sophia pulled her phone from her clutch. There were already fourteen missed calls and six text messages from Adrian.
Sophia, I need to see you. Please.
It’s not what you think. It’s an arrangement. I love you.
Answer the phone, Soph.
She stared at the glowing screen, her thumb hovering over the block button.
Instead of blocking him, she opened her contacts, selected his name, and deleted it entirely. She didn't want the satisfaction of blocking him; she wanted the absolute erasure of his existence from her device.
The cab pulled up to her brownstone. She paid the driver in cash and walked up the steps, unlocking her front door.
May you like
Her apartment was dark and quiet. On the kitchen counter sat the remnants of her morning. A half-empty coffee mug. The crumbs from the toast Adrian had eaten. A sticky note he had left near the coffee maker that read: Chicago won't be the same without you. Back tomorrow. Love, A.
Sophia walked over to the counter, picked up the sticky note, and crumpled it into a tight ball. She dropped it into the trash can, turned off the kitchen light, and walked into her bedroom. She didn't cry. The betrayal was too massive, too profound for tears. She lay down on her bed, fully clothed, and stared at the ceiling until the sun came up.
