Chapter 4
No money.
Her mother's treatment was about to be cut off.
James had backed her into a corner. He wouldn't even give her room to breathe.
Sophia gripped the cheap secondhand phone, her fingertips ice-cold.
Who else could she turn to? In this city, James controlled everything. Who would dare cross him?
Out of options, she dialed the number she knew by heart.
The phone rang for a long time before someone picked up. It was quiet on the other end. She could hear his steady breathing.
"James..." Sophia's voice cracked. "My mother... the hospital says they're stopping treatment. Please..." The words came out with difficulty. "I'll do anything you want. She's innocent."
A soft scoff came through the line.
"Remember your place, Sophia." James's voice was ice. "Did I give you permission to leave the villa?"
"Get your ass back here. My patience is running out."
He hung up.
Sophia listened to the dial tone. That familiar twisting pain in her stomach surged up again.
He wanted her back. Back to the cage where he kept her. So he could keep tormenting her.
But she had no choice.
Back at the Russell Villa, the living room blazed with light. James sat on the couch, long legs crossed, posture relaxed.
When he heard her footsteps, he didn't even look up.
Sophia stood in the entryway.
"Come here." He finally spoke.
Sophia forced her stiff legs to move and walked toward him.
James looked up. His gaze was openly contemptuous, appraising.
"Need money?" he asked.
Sophia bit her lip and nodded.
"Fine." He stood and walked over to her. His towering figure swallowed her whole. "Strip."
The word hit her like a slap.
Her mind went blank. Blood rushed to her head, then drained away just as fast.
"What do you think I am?"
"A whore." James spat the word out, cruel and blunt. "A hundred grand per session. Should cover your mother's surgery."
Sophia's body began to tremble. Not from cold. From bone-deep humiliation.
She stared at James's handsome, merciless face.
So this was what she was to him. Less than human.
When she didn't move, his expression hardened. "Not willing? Then get out. Watch your mother die."
"I'll do it."
Sophia closed her eyes.
She raised her trembling hands and began unbuttoning her clothes, one button at a time.
Jacket. Sweater. Shirt.
Each piece slid to the cold floor like strips of dignity peeling away.
James just watched. His gaze was like he was enjoying a show. No desire. Just amusement and indifference.
When she was down to her last undergarment, he suddenly stepped forward and shoved her onto the icy couch.
Sophia squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the storm.
But the assault she expected never came.
Above her, James let out a cold laugh.
"Ha. You actually did it."
"Sophia, look at yourself. You're disgusting. What makes you think I'd even touch you?"
He looked down at her with revulsion.
A document landed on her face. The edge of the paper scratched her cheek, leaving a faint sting.
"Sign this."
Sophia picked up the document. In the light, she read the words at the top.
Confession.
It detailed how she'd plotted to kidnap and murder Raina out of jealousy. Fake chat logs and fabricated bank transfers were attached.
The evidence was airtight.
If she signed, the murder charge would stick.
"I won't sign it!" Sophia hurled the confession onto the floor. "This is all fake!"
If she signed, her life was over. She'd get life in prison.
And if she went to prison, what would happen to her mother?
"You don't have a choice." James crouched down, picked up the document, and smoothed out the creases with deliberate care. "Your mother's life. The penalty fees you owe the platform. Think carefully."
Another threat.
He always used the people she loved to force her hand.
All the strength drained out of Sophia's body. She slumped on the couch, staring hopelessly at the ornate crystal chandelier overhead.
The light was blinding. But it couldn't reach the darkness of her life.
After a long silence, she found her voice.
"I'll sign..."
"But you have to promise me. Save my mother."
James sneered. "What makes you think you can make demands?"
Sophia's eyes instantly turned red. Her chest heaved. Suppressed rage and hatred threatened to consume her.
"James!"
"If you want me to save your mother," he said, clearly enjoying her reaction, "sign it. Then turn yourself in."
Sophia laughed.
It was a bitter, desolate sound.
She picked up the pen and signed her name at the bottom of the document.
Each stroke felt like it drained every ounce of strength she had left.
Signing those two words was like sentencing herself to death.
She put down the pen and looked up at James. Her eyes were empty, frighteningly hollow.
"If you ever find out the real killer wasn't me," her voice was soft, but carried an eerie calm, "James, you're going to regret this."
"That day will never come." James collected the document, his face unmoved.
He pulled out his phone and called Owen.
"Tell the hospital to arrange the best doctors for Mrs. Grey's surgery."
He hung up. Then he dialed another number.
"Police? I want to report a crime. A murderer is here to turn herself in."
Soon, sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer.
Cold handcuffs closed around Sophia's slender wrists.
She didn't struggle. Like a puppet with no soul, she was led away by the police.
Days in detention were endless.
Every minute, every second was torture.
Sophia didn't know how much time had passed before the day of her trial finally came.
She was escorted into a police van and driven to the courthouse.
Outside the window, the city's skyscrapers flew past in reverse.
The van stopped at a red light near the courthouse. Sophia glanced out the window absently.
She froze.
Across the street, near the courthouse entrance, she saw a familiar figure.
Her mother.
She wore a hospital gown, her face pale as paper, her body so frail it looked like a gust of wind could knock her over.
She'd just had bypass surgery. She should've been resting in the hospital.
But right now, she was on her knees.
Kneeling in front of James and an elegant, well-dressed middle-aged woman.
Sophia recognized the woman. Her father's mistress, Flora Bell.
Her mother's head was bowed low. Her shoulders shook. She was crying. Begging.
"Please, I'm begging you... let my Sophia go... she didn't mean it..."
That posture, so humble it was buried in the dirt, burned into Sophia's heart.
The light turned green. The van began to move.
Sophia pressed herself against the window, straining to look back. Tears blurred her vision.
She saw James standing expressionless, looking down at her kneeling mother.
And Flora wore a faint, smug smile.
