Sophia's POV
I had always thought that being exhausted was simply a result of physical labor, like when you stand for too long or work really hard and get little pay. However, I was mistaken. The real exhaustion comes from fear. It is the feeling of anxiety every day when you wake up with a tight chest, your mind racing, and your body being in a state of emergency, although the attack hasn't happened yet.
I woke up before my alarm that day.
The apartment was silent, but it was not the silence of peace. Kate was still asleep in the next room, her soft breathing just barely reaching me through the thin wall. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, my hand resting on my stomach.
Nothing had changed overnight. No pain. No cramps. No blood.
And yet my heart refused to beat slowly.
New messages from the night before replayed in my mind, sharp and deliberate.
Don't forget your place.
Pregnancies can end very easily.
I swallowed my saliva and sat up straight. It felt as if the gravitational force had suddenly shifted throughout my body, making it feel very heavy. A wave of nausea came to me; though it was not enough to cause me to vomit, it was sufficient to remind me that I wasn't alone in the room.
"You're okay," I said to myself in a low voice. And even quieter, "We're okay."
I put my clothes on slowly, choosing a pair of flat shoes and a loose dress that would not attract any attention. Earlier, I never really thought about what I wore. But now, each decision was weighed as if eyes were there following and waiting for me to slip up.
Kate caught me in the kitchen, her eyes narrowing the moment she looked at my face.
"You didn't sleep," she said.
"I did," I lied.
She didn't argue. She just poured me a glass of water and slid it across the counter. "You don't have to be strong all the time, Soph."
"I don't have a choice."
She hesitated. "Did they message again?"
I nodded.
Kate cursed under her breath. "You need to tell Alexander."
The name still did strange things to me. Hearing his name still made me feel strange. It tightened something in my chest and loosened something else inside me." I said. "This was supposed to be simple."
Kate gave me a look. "You're carrying his child. Nothing about that is simple."
She wasn't wrong. I hated that she wasn't wrong.
My phone buzzed as I went outside, and I couldn't help but see it as a kind of reproach when Alexander's name flashed on the screen.
I looked at it for a very long second, and then I picked up the call.
He didn't waste time with a hello; he asked, "Where are you?"
"I'm going to the interview," I told him briefly.
After that, there was a silence. "Which interview?"
"I am telling you, Alexander, that I need a job," I said.
"You don't need…"
I cut him off. "Yes, I do. I need my own money, my own routine, and my own sense of control."
We didn't say a word to each other after that; the silence between us was really uncomfortable.
At last, he spoke: "Just send me the address."
"I don't want you interfering."
"I won't," he replied. "I'll wait."
That should have made me feel better, but instead it unsettled me.
The interview itself went better than I expected. The publishing firm was small and didn't have much money, but they seemed genuine. The editor asked real questions, looked me in the eye, and didn't treat me like a problem or a product." My heart tried to hold back a hopeful feeling.
On the other hand, Alexander was standing on the other side of the street.
He didn't deceive me. He didn't meddle.
But just the fact that he actually came made me uncomfortable.
"You said that you'd be waiting," I told him.
"Yes, I did."
"It's not what I meant."
"I'm aware."
We went on the street, side by side and wordless. It was different this time, in that the silence didn't weigh on us.
"About the messages," I said in a low voice. "They're escalating."
His jaw clenched. "I'm dealing with it."
"In what way?"
"I'll figure out the one who's doing it."
"And after that?"
He stopped and looked at me. His eyes were dark, protective, and slightly threatening.
"Then they won't be troubling us any longer."
A shiver went down my spine. "That's precisely why I'm so afraid."
"You are safe with me," he said decisively.
"I didn't agree to be owned."
"You agreed to be safe."
His words hung in the air, full of meanings neither of us wanted to talk about. That evening, the email arrived.
We'd like to offer you the position.
Relief hit me so hard I had to sit down.
Kate hugged me, laughing and crying at the same time. "See? You're not powerless."
I wanted to believe her.
For weeks, life settled into an uneasy routine: doctor visits, counseling, and work. Alexander checked in more than needed.
Sometimes he kept his distance. Other times, he was unexpectedly gentle.
One time, when I felt sick in his car, he pulled over quietly, gave me some water, and waited until I felt better. He wasn't impatient or annoyed.
That really scared me. What scared me even more was his closeness.
Just long enough for me to lower my defenses.
So it happened that I saw her one day.
She was standing at the door of my office building, a model of refinement and grace, her body language oozing power and entitlement. As if she had been waiting for me, she beamed at me.
"Sophia Patel," she called out with an even tone of voice. "I have been longing to meet you."
My heart skipped a beat. "Do I know you?"
"Isabella Laurent," she said, while giving me her hand. "A friend of Alexander's from the past."
The way she looked at me made my skin prickle.
"What do you want?"
"To talk," she said lightly. "Woman to woman."
"I'm not interested."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "You're carrying something that was never meant to be yours."
Her smile grew tight. "Be careful, Sophia. Men like Alexander don't break patterns. They break people."
That night, I confronted him.
"Who is Isabelle Laurent?" The mood changed right away. The air shifted instantly.
"She's part of my past," he said.
"Was she your lover?"
"Yes."
The truth hurt more than I thought it would, less than I expected.
"And now?"
"Now she's a complication."
Later, when I was alone in my room, I put my hand on my stomach.
"I don't know what kind of world I brought you into," I whispered. "But I promise I'll protect you."
Even if that meant protecting us from the man who started all of this.
Because this contract was no longer just about a baby.
It was about power.
And someone was already waiting for me to fall.