Chapter 6 - The Woman Declan Could Not Protect|
By the end of the week, Sophia had become the center of a security operation she had never asked for.
A guard waited outside her recovery suite. Another accompanied her to physical therapy. Declan's driver took her to appointments, and Marcus insisted on checking every vehicle before she entered it.
Sophia tolerated the arrangements until the morning Declan announced that she would be staying at his estate after leaving the hospital.
“No.”
He stood near the foot of her bed.
“It's the safest option.”
“For whom?”
“For you.”
“You don't get to decide that.”
“Someone tried to kill me and shot you instead. They broke into your shop and left a message saying you weren't supposed to survive. Your apartment is no longer safe.”
“Then I'll stay with my sister.”
“Your sister lives in Milwaukee.”
“Correct. A city with houses, hospitals, and functioning locks.”
“It's a six-hour drive in bad weather.”
“Then we'll take a train when my doctor says I can travel.”
Declan rubbed a hand over his face.
“You are impossible.”
“I'm injured, not helpless.”
“I know that.”
“Then stop treating me as though the two things are interchangeable.”
He fell silent.
Sophia softened slightly.
“I appreciate that you're worried. I do. But I need to make decisions about my own life. If I agree to stay somewhere else, it will be because I choose to—not because you order it.”
Declan looked at her for a long moment.
“Would you consider staying at the estate for a few days while the police investigate?”
“Can I leave whenever I want?”
“Yes.”
“Can I have my own room?”
“Of course.”
“Can I refuse to attend any meetings involving your business?”
“You won't be asked to attend them.”
“And no guards inside my bedroom.”
He nodded.
“Agreed.”
She considered it.
“Three days. Then we reassess.”
“Three days.”
He offered his hand, then stopped before touching her.
Sophia noticed.
“You can help me stand,” she said. “Just be careful of my shoulder.”
He helped her out of bed.
The Moretti estate stood behind iron gates on the northern edge of the city. It was an old stone house surrounded by carefully maintained gardens, with security cameras discreetly placed along the walls. Inside, everything was expensive without being ostentatious.
Sophia had expected cold marble and intimidating portraits.
Instead, she found a kitchen that smelled of fresh bread, a library filled with worn books, and a sunroom where someone had left a half-finished jigsaw puzzle.
Declan led her upstairs to a guest suite overlooking the garden.
“I thought you might prefer this room,” he said. “It's quieter than the others.”
Sophia set down her bag.
“Thank you.”
He hesitated.
“If you need anything, tell the housekeeper.”
“I can tell you.”
He looked surprised.
“Yes. You can.”
For the next two days, Sophia rested, attended physical therapy, and tried to ignore the strange awareness that came whenever Declan entered a room. He didn't hover constantly, but he checked on her often. Sometimes he brought coffee. Sometimes he sat in the sunroom while she worked through gentle exercises.
On the third evening, she found him in the library, staring at an old photograph.
It showed a younger Declan standing beside a woman with dark curls and a bright smile.
“Your sister?” Sophia asked.
“My mother.”
She sat opposite him.
“She was beautiful.”
“She was.”
“What happened to her?”
Declan turned the photograph over in his hands.
“She died when I was twenty. A car bomb was meant for my father. My mother was in the passenger seat.”
Sophia's breath caught.
“I'm sorry.”
“After that, my father became obsessed with control. He believed he could prevent every tragedy if he knew everything, owned everything, and trusted no one.”
“And you learned the same lesson.”
“I learned a version of it.”
Sophia watched him.
“You think if you control every variable, no one can hurt you.”
“It's worked reasonably well.”
“Has it?”
He looked at her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Declan said, “When you fell, I thought I was watching the same thing happen again.”
Sophia's heart tightened.
“I wasn't your mother.”
“I know.”
“And you couldn't have prevented the bullet.”
“I know that, too.”
He set the photograph down.
“But I still wish I had.”
Sophia reached across the table and touched his hand with her uninjured one.
“You can care about someone without being responsible for every terrible thing that happens to them.”
Declan looked at their joined hands.
He didn't pull away.
Then his phone rang.
Marcus's voice came through, urgent and low.
“We found the person who put the envelope in the suit.”
Declan straightened.
“Who?”
A pause.
“Your cousin Adrian's assistant.”
May you like
Another pause.
“And she says Adrian wasn't acting alone.”
