Chapter 3
459words
Sophia Blackwood slipped her arm around a stumbling Adrian Mitchell.
I lurked in the shadows by the karaoke entrance, watching them devour each other, bodies pressed together like they couldn't get close enough.
Like a volcano finally erupting after years of pressure.
They tumbled into his Bentley, still locked together, and soon the car began to rock with a steady rhythm.
Without a sound, I raised my phone and captured everything.
Then I called my father.
"Baby girl? Calling so late—missing your old man?"
Dad's groggy voice cracked the dam I'd been desperately holding together.
Tears streamed down my face in silence.
"Dad…"
"Are you crying? Who hurt you? Tell me where you are, right now!"
I managed to stammer out the address between sobs.
Twenty minutes later, tires screeched as Dad's car pulled to the curb.
I sat huddled on the sidewalk, arms wrapped around myself, shivering in the biting night air.
Dad hauled me to my feet and draped his warm coat over my shoulders.
"Where's that son of a bitch Mitchell?"
"Gone. With Sophia."
Dad's entire body went rigid, his knuckles cracking as he clenched his fists.
"Where are those two pieces of trash?!"
I clutched his arm, shaking my head frantically.
"Dad, please. They're not worth it."
Dad slammed his foot into a nearby trash can, sending it flying with a thunderous crash.
"What's going through your head?" He took a steadying breath. "Have you made a decision? Divorce?"
I nodded without a moment's hesitation.
"Could there be some explanation? Some misunderstanding?"
I pulled up the video on my phone, along with a gallery of photos showing their secret hand-holding and stolen moments.
Dad flicked through them, his eyes hardening to chips of ice.
He yanked out his phone and fired off a series of calls.
First to his lawyer, demanding divorce papers on his desk by 8 AM sharp.
Next to Mitchell's business partners, instructing them to freeze all pending deals and review existing contracts.
After hanging up, he pulled open the car door.
"Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you home."
But I remained rooted to the spot, wiping tears from my cheeks.
"Before we go home, I need to get my things from the house."
Dad didn't argue. He simply nodded to his driver, who took us straight to the mansion I'd shared with Adrian Mitchell.
Adrian had bought this place before we married.
I'd spent a year pouring my heart and soul into making it a home.
"If you want this place, I'll make sure you get it in the settlement."
"No thanks, Dad," I said softly, gazing around at what once felt like home. "I don't want anything connected to Adrian Mitchell."
"Everything here feels… contaminated."
