Chapter 4
Sophia
Last night's confrontation with Camden left me sleepless. At dawn, I left that suffocating house and went straight to Raven's studio. I needed a ritual to announce the death of the old Sophia.
The moment I cut my hair, I felt a liberation I hadn't experienced in years.
For a decade, Camden had praised my long hair as his favorite "asset." He would twist his fingers through my locks as if they were invisible chains binding me to him. Now, those chains lay scattered across the floor—my silent rebellion against Camden.
"Holy shit, Soph." Raven walked in carrying two coffees. She stopped in her tracks, taking in my new look—shoulder-length hair, the natural deep brown replacing the blonde highlights Camden preferred. "Finally look like yourself again."
I turned in front of the mirror, fingers running through the freshly cut ends. "Feels like I've found that girl from ten years ago."
Raven handed me a coffee, her eyes showing both approval and a touch of sadness.
Raven's recording studio had been completely transformed. One wall had been cleared and covered with photos, documents, and timeline charts. Computer screens displayed Camden's various criminal activities—money laundering diagrams, falsified tax documents, explicit messages with his "sponsored" companions. This place, once dedicated to creating music, had become our secret command center.
"Check this out," Raven opened an encrypted folder. "I hacked into his cloud backup. His messages to those underage models are fucking disgusting."
I scrolled through the messages, feeling a sharp pain in my chest—not from jealousy, but from anger and revulsion. Everything Camden had promised those girls was the same trick he'd used to seduce me.
For the next few hours, I detailed into the microphone how Camden had systematically controlled me for ten years—from the initial sweet talk to gradually isolating me from friends and family; from praising my artistic talent to later mocking my creations as "amateur hobbies"; from romantic surprises to a calculated system of rewards and punishments.
"His love was conditional," my voice remained eerily calm in the recording. "Whenever I behaved in ways he didn't approve of, he would 'punish' me—canceling travel plans, public humiliation, or not coming home all night. Until I apologized and changed myself."
After recording, we continued sorting through evidence. Suddenly, Raven's expression changed.
"Fuck, Sophia, look at this." She pointed to a series of transfer records and encrypted emails on screen. "This isn't just about Camden's personal crimes. This is an entire Hayes family criminal network. Money laundering, tax evasion, possibly even human trafficking."
"Sophia," Raven looked at me seriously, "this isn't just revenge anymore. This is declaring war. Are you sure you want to go down this path?"
I looked at the evidence wall. "I have nothing left to lose, Raven."
We packed up our files. My phone suddenly vibrated with a social media notification.
It came from a name I thought I'd forgotten: Luca Moretti.
"Ten years, and I'm surprised to see you with a new hairstyle. Is that girl who wanted to change the world with music still in there somewhere?"
My finger hovered over the screen, my heartbeat suddenly accelerating. Luca. My musical partner from college, and the person who came closest to my soul. When I chose Camden over the musical path, he quietly disappeared from my life.
Memories flooded back—our late nights creating songs in campus cafés, our first performance at a small music festival, sharing dreams and fears under the stars. Luca loved me, but I chose the glamorous life Camden offered.
I clicked on Luca's profile and discovered he'd become a well-known producer in the independent music scene, with his own record label focused on discovering new talent. He was doing well, following the path we had once planned together, just without me by his side.
"Who are you texting?" Raven peered over from the driver's seat.
"Luca Moretti," I answered softly, "my... friend from college."
"That gorgeous music major who was obsessed with you?" Raven raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to reply?"
I hesitated, then typed: "She's still here, just trapped in someone else's version of life for too long. Now she wants to find her true self in what time she has left."
After reading Luca's message, I put my phone away. "I don't want to go back to that house tonight," I told Raven. "Let's pull an all-nighter here instead."
We'd been organizing the final evidence files for about two hours when a searing pain shot through my abdomen. I doubled over, tasting iron in my throat, followed by warm blood trickling from the corner of my mouth.
"Sophia!" Raven's voice became distant as my vision darkened.
When I woke, I found myself in a hospital bed with Raven anxiously standing nearby as a doctor checked my vitals.
"The pancreatic cancer has metastasized to your stomach," the doctor said gravely, reviewing my chart. "That's what caused the bleeding. It's been four months since your initial diagnosis, and the condition is deteriorating faster than expected. At this rate, you may not have even two months of your original six-month prognosis left."
"Are there any treatment options?" Raven asked, her voice slightly trembling.
The doctor shook his head. "Only symptom management, to ease the pain."
After the doctor left, I struggled to sit up. "We need to continue. Time's running out faster than we thought."
"Sophia, you need rest," Raven grabbed my hand. "Maybe we should give up—"
"If I'm going to die," I interrupted her, my voice firm, "I'll die with dignity. I won't let Camden continue his life after I'm gone as if I was just an episode in his story."
Two days later, I forced myself to return to Camden, pretending everything was normal. But as soon as I walked through the door, Camden's expression changed from expectation to shock and anger.
"What the fuck did you do to your hair?" he stared at my short cut, his voice dangerously low.
"Cut it," I replied calmly, walking straight to the bar to pour myself a whiskey.
"With the party so close?" Camden caught up, grabbing my arm. "You know how much I loved your long hair! All the promotional photos show you with long hair!"
"You loved it, not me." I pulled away from his grip. "Maybe I wanted to do something for myself, instead of playing your perfect girlfriend role all the time."
"Have you lost your mind?" Camden shouted.
"Maybe I have lost it," I smirked coldly, "or maybe I'm just tired of pleasing you."
"You look like a fucking dying patient!" he blurted out.
I froze, then slowly turned to him: "Maybe I am."
Camden's expression immediately shifted from anger to confusion, then to a strange softness. He approached me, suddenly wearing that familiar, apologetic look—the one he always used to win back my trust after hurting me.
"I'm sorry, baby," he said softly, gently caressing my new hairstyle. "I'm just stressed. This party is important for both of us—investors, partners, media, everyone will be there. I want everything to be perfect."
"Perfect?" I silently repeated the word.
"Yes," Camden smiled, pulling a small box from his pocket. "This is for you. To apologize."
I opened the box to find a diamond necklace, exquisite but soulless—just like our relationship.
"Perfect," I smiled.
This would be a perfect performance he'd never forget.
Even if it would be the final act of my life.
