Our one perfect day ended at 7 AM the next morning when Lucas called.
Adrian reached for his phone, squinting at the screen. "It's Lucas. This better be important."
"Answer it," I mumbled into my pillow. "He wouldn't call this early unless it was."
Adrian kissed my shoulder, then answered. "This better be good, Lucas."
I couldn't hear Lucas's response, but I watched Adrian's expression shift from annoyed to alert to concerned.
"When? ... How bad? ... No, don't do anything yet. I'm coming in." He hung up, already getting out of bed. "I have to go to the office."
"What happened?"
"Ethan's legal team filed a motion for appeal. They're claiming new evidence." He was pulling on clothes, movements sharp with tension. "It's procedural bullshit, probably won't go anywhere, but I need to coordinate with our lawyers."
I sat up, pulling the sheet around me. "Do you want me to come?"
"No. Stay here, rest. You deserve a real honeymoon, not getting dragged into legal battles on day two of our marriage." He crossed back to the bed, cupped my face. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Few hours, tops."
"Okay. Be careful."
"Always." He kissed me, soft and sweet. "I love you."
"Love you too."
I watched him leave, then fell back against the pillows. So much for pretending the real world didn't exist.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Unknown number. I almost ignored it, but something made me answer.
"Hello?"
"Sophia." The voice made my blood run cold. "It's Miranda."
My stepmother. I hadn't heard from her since before the trial, when she'd been arrested as an accessory to my mother's murder.
"How did you get this number?"
"I need to see you. Please. It's about Vivian."
"I have nothing to say to you."
"Five minutes. That's all I'm asking. There's a coffee shop on Fifth and Main. I'll be there at nine." Her voice cracked. "Please, Sophia. I'm begging you."
She hung up before I could refuse.
I stared at the phone, mind racing. This was a trap. Had to be. Miranda didn't do anything without an agenda.
But what if it wasn't? What if Vivian was actually in trouble?
I hated that I still cared. After everything they'd done the lies, the theft, helping to kill my mother I should have felt nothing.
But Vivian had been my sister, once. Before I knew the truth. And some part of me, the naive girl I'd been, still remembered what it felt like to think you had family.
I called Adrian. He answered on the first ring.
"Miss me already?"
"Miranda just called. She wants to meet."
Silence. Then, "Absolutely not."
"She says it's about Vivian.."
"I don't care if it's about the Pope. You're not meeting with her. It's too dangerous."
"Adrian.."
"Sophia, this woman helped murder your mother. She's currently out on bail awaiting trial. Whatever she wants, it's not good."
"What if Vivian's actually in trouble?"
"Then Vivian can deal with the consequences of her actions." His voice softened. "Sophia, I know you have a good heart. That's one of the things I love about you. But Miranda will use that against you. She always has."
He was right. I knew he was right.
"I still have to go."
Adrian sighed heavily. "You're not going alone. I'm sending security with you. And I'm leaving the office now."
"You don't have to.."
"Yes, I do. You're my wife. Where you go, I go. Especially when you're walking into potential danger."
"It's a coffee shop in broad daylight."
"I don't care. Give me twenty minutes."
True to his word, Adrian arrived home exactly twenty minutes later with two security guards in tow.
"You know this is probably overkill," I said as we climbed into the car.
"Probably. But I'd rather be overprotective than sorry." He took my hand. "What did she say, exactly?"
I relayed the brief conversation. Adrian listened, jaw tight.
"If she tries anything."
"She won't. She's too smart for that." I squeezed his hand. "Thank you. For coming with me."
"Always."
The coffee shop was small, quiet, tucked between a bookstore and a dry cleaner. Through the window, I spotted Miranda at a corner table.
She looked terrible. Gray streaking her blonde hair, lines around her eyes that hadn't been there before. Prison orange replaced by a cheap dress. She'd aged a decade in six months.
"Stay here," Adrian told the security guards. To me: "I'm coming in with you."
"She might not talk if you're there."
"Then she doesn't talk. But I'm not letting you face her alone."
We entered together. Miranda looked up, her expression flickering between hope and resignation when she saw Adrian.
"Mr. Blackwood. I should have known you wouldn't let her come alone."
"Damn right." Adrian pulled out a chair for me, then sat beside me, angling himself slightly between us. Protective. "You have five minutes. Talk."
Miranda's hands shook around her coffee cup. "Vivian tried to kill herself yesterday. She's in the hospital."
The words hit like a physical blow. "What?"
"Pills. They found her in her cell she's in prison, you know, awaiting trial. They pumped her stomach, she'll survive, but..." Miranda's voice broke. "She left a note. For you."
She slid an envelope across the table. My name on it in Vivian's handwriting.
I stared at it, not touching it.
"What does it say?" Adrian asked.
"I don't know. She sealed it." Miranda looked at me with desperate eyes. "Please, Sophia. Whatever happened between us, whatever I did she's still your sister. She's asking for you."
"She's not my sister," I said coldly. "Sisters don't conspire to kill your mother. Sisters don't help steal your inheritance. Sisters don't sleep with your fiancé."
"She was manipulated."
"By you," I cut her off. "You manipulated her from childhood. Taught her that love was transactional, that family was about what you could take from each other. You destroyed her just like you tried to destroy me."
Miranda flinched. "You're right. Everything you said is right. I was a terrible mother to her. And I was.." her voice cracked, "..I was worse to you. Your mother was my friend, Sophia. My best friend. And when she died, instead of honoring her memory, I married your father for his money. I let Vivian target you. I helped steal from you. I.." tears streamed down her face now, "..I helped arrange the accident that killed her."
The confession hung in the air.
"Why?" The word ripped from my throat. "Why would you kill your best friend?"
"Because I was jealous." Miranda's voice was barely a whisper. "She had everything a husband who loved her, a beautiful daughter, a successful company. And I had nothing. A failed marriage, mounting debts, a daughter I didn't know how to raise. When that man approached me, offered money to help orchestrate the accident, I said yes. I told myself it was just business. That it wasn't personal."
"Wasn't personal?" I couldn't breathe. "You murdered my mother for money."
"I know. And I'll spend the rest of my life in prison for it. As I should." She pushed the envelope closer. "But Vivian she's paying for my sins. She was twelve when I remarried your father. Twelve when I started teaching her that love was weakness and money was power. Everything she became, I made her."
"That doesn't excuse what she did."
"No. It doesn't. But maybe.." Miranda's voice broke again, "..maybe it explains it. And maybe, if you can find it in your heart to see her, to hear her out, maybe she can start to heal. To become someone better than I made her."
I looked at Adrian. His expression was unreadable, but his hand found mine under the table, squeezed.
"Your choice," he said quietly. "Whatever you decide, I support you."
I looked at the envelope. At Miranda's desperate, guilty face. At my own hands, one wearing Adrian's grandmother's ring.
In my past life, I'd have opened the letter immediately. Rushed to the hospital. Forgiven everything because I couldn't stand to see family hurt.
But I wasn't that person anymore.
"I need to think about it."
"Sophia, please..."
"I said I need to think." I stood. Adrian rose with me. "You've had your five minutes, Miranda. And I've heard what you had to say. But I don't owe Vivian forgiveness. I don't owe you anything except the truth: you're right. You are a terrible mother. To both your daughter and to me. And whatever happens to Vivian now is the consequence of choices you both made."
"I know." Miranda's voice was small. "I know. But Sophia your mother. If she could see you now, she'd be so proud of the woman you've become. Strong, successful, married to a good man. Everything she wanted for you."
"Don't." My voice was sharp. "Don't you dare talk about what my mother would want. You lost that right when you killed her."
"You're right. I'm sorry." Miranda looked at the envelope. "Will you at least read it?"
I picked it up, stuffed it in my purse. "Maybe. Goodbye, Miranda."
We left her there, crying into her coffee.
In the car, I stared out the window, unable to process what I'd just heard.
"Hey." Adrian's voice was gentle. "Talk to me."
"She confessed. To everything. The murder, the manipulation, all of it."
"I heard."
"Why now? After months of denying everything, why confess to me in a coffee shop?"
"Guilt, maybe. Or she's hoping you'll testify on Vivian's behalf, get her a lighter sentence."
"That's probably it." I laughed bitterly. "God, I'm so stupid. I actually thought for a second that maybe she was being genuine."
"You're not stupid. You're human. And despite everything they did to you, you still have compassion. That's not weakness, Sophia. That's strength."
"Doesn't feel like strength."
"I know." He pulled me close. "Do you want to read the letter?"
I pulled it from my purse, stared at it. "Part of me wants to burn it. Pretend she never reached out."
"And the other part?"
"Wants to know what she has to say. Wants closure, maybe." I turned to Adrian. "What would you do?"
"Honestly? I don't know. My situation with family is different. But.." he paused, choosing words carefully, "..I think you'll regret it more if you don't read it. You don't have to forgive her. You don't have to visit her. But knowing what she wanted to say... that might give you the closure you need to move on completely."
He was right. I hated that he was right, but he was.
I opened the envelope. The letter was short, Vivian's handwriting shaky:
Sophia.
I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't deserve it. Everything you think about me is probably true I'm selfish, cruel, manipulative. Mother made me that way, but that's not an excuse. I chose my actions.
I slept with Ethan because I wanted what you had. Not him I never loved him. But the way people looked at you. Respected you. Loved you. I wanted that. And I thought taking him from you would give me that.
I was wrong.
I tried to kill myself because I finally realized what I'd become. What Mother made me, yes, but also what I chose to be. And I can't live with it. Can't look at myself in the mirror knowing I helped kill Aunt Lillian. Knowing I destroyed you for money that's gone now anyway.
You don't have to visit. Don't have to write back. I just needed you to know: I'm sorry. For all of it. For everything.
You deserved better. You always did.
And I'm glad you found it. With Adrian. With your new life.
*Be happy, Sophia. You've earned it.
I read it twice, then handed it to Adrian.
He read in silence, then looked at me. "What do you want to do?"
"I don't know." My voice was thick. "Part of me wants to believe her. Wants to think she's genuinely remorseful."
"And the other part?"
"Remembers that she's a good liar. That this could be manipulation."
"It could be both. Genuine remorse and manipulation."
I leaned against him. "When did my life get so complicated?"
"When you married me, probably."
That startled a laugh out of me. "You think pretty highly of yourself."
"I try." He kissed the top of my head. "Seriously, though. You don't have to decide right now. Sleep on it. And if you decide you want to see her, I'll come with you."
"To a prison hospital?"
"To the end of the world if you need me there."
God, I loved this man.
"Thank you," I whispered. "For everything. For being here, for supporting me, for not judging."
"Sophia, you could never disappoint me. Whatever you choose, it's the right choice. Because it's yours."
We drove home in silence. The letter felt heavy in my purse, like it weighed more than paper should.
Inside, Margaret met us at the door. "Mr. Blackwood, Mr. Grant called. He says the motion for appeal was denied. Mr. Cole's conviction stands."
Adrian exhaled in relief. "Good. Thank you, Margaret."
"Also, this arrived for Mrs. Blackwood." She handed me a large envelope. "From a travel agency."
I opened it. Inside were travel documents, hotel reservations, and a handwritten note from James:
Every newlywed couple deserves a proper honeymoon. Two weeks in Bora Bora, all expenses paid. No arguments. You've both earned some peace. Enjoy it.
James
"Your grandfather is sending us on honeymoon?" I showed Adrian the papers.
A slow smile spread across his face. "Apparently so. What do you think?"
I thought about Ethan's appeal being denied. About Miranda's confession. About Vivian's letter weighing heavy in my purse.
About needing a break from all of it.
"I think," I said slowly, "that two weeks in paradise sounds perfect."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Let's go. Leave all this behind for a little while. Come back refreshed and ready to face whatever comes next."
"When do we leave?"
I checked the documents. "Three days."
"Perfect. That gives us time to prepare." He pulled me close. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For marrying me. For trusting me. For giving me the family I never thought I'd have."
"We haven't even been married a week."
"Doesn't matter. You're my family now. And I'm yours. That's not changing."
"Forever," I agreed.
"Forever."
That night, I made my decision about Vivian.
I wouldn't visit. Not yet, maybe not ever. But I wrote her a letter:
Vivian.
I received your letter. I believe you're sorry. I even believe you were manipulated by Miranda. But I can't forgive you. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
You made choices. Yes, you were influenced, but you were also an adult. You chose to hurt me. You chose to help kill my mother. And those choices have consequences.
I hope you get the help you need. I hope you find a way to live with what you've done. But I can't be part of that healing. I have my own life to live now. My own family to build.
I wish you well. Truly. But from a distance.
Be better, Vivian. If not for me, then for yourself.
I sealed it, addressed it to the prison hospital, and left it on the hall table for Margaret to mail.
Adrian found me standing there, staring at it.
"You okay?"
"I think so." I turned to him. "It feels like closing a door."
"Good doors or bad doors?"
"Both. The past. All of it. Good and bad." I took his hand. "I'm ready to focus on the future now. On us."
"On us," he echoed. "I like the sound of that."
"Good. Because you're stuck with me. In Bora Bora, back home, forever."
"Best deal I ever made," he said, pulling me close.
"Best decision I ever made," I replied.
And as we stood there in the quiet hallway, the letter to Vivian waiting to be sent, I realized something:
I'd finally let go.
Of the naive girl who'd trusted too easily. Of the anger that had driven me since rebirth. Of the need for perfect revenge.
I'd let it all go.
And in its place was something better: peace. Love. A future I couldn't wait to live.
With the man I loved. Who loved me back. Completely, unconditionally, forever.
And that was worth more than any revenge could ever be.
END OF CHAPTER 10