Chapter 5
"Please, I'm begging you... let my Sophia go... she didn't mean it... if a life must be paid, take mine!"
Flora's shrill voice cut through the air. "Your life? What's your life worth? Your daughter killed mine. A life for a life. That's only fair!"
Sophia went rigid.
Raina was her sister. When did she become Flora's daughter?
"Flora, what are you talking about?" Her mother's voice trembled, on the verge of collapse.
"What am I talking about?"
Flora's smile widened with malicious satisfaction. She stepped closer, leaning down to her mother's ear. Her voice wasn't loud, but every word was a knife.
"The Grey family went bankrupt. Your dead husband already transferred all his assets to my name and ran off with me ages ago. Why are you still clinging to that empty shell? Oh, and there's one more thing I forgot to mention."
She paused, savoring the look of horror on her mother's face, then delivered the cruelest secret of all.
"Raina was my and Soren's biological daughter. As for your real child... I threw her away right after she was born. Whether she's dead or alive now, who knows?"
The world exploded in Sophia's ears.
Switched at birth. An affair. Debts. All the truth laid bare in one brutal moment.
She'd taken on a murder charge for an impostor. For the daughter of her enemy. And now she was headed to prison.
How absurd. How pathetic.
"No... no..."
Her mother crumpled to the ground, unable to form coherent words. She could only shake her head helplessly.
"Take her away." James finally spoke, his voice flat and emotionless.
Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward, hauled the sobbing woman off the ground, and shoved her roughly into a car.
Sophia watched her mother being dragged away. She wanted to scream, to smash through the window and run to her. But the cold cuffs on her wrists reminded her that she was a prisoner now.
The courtroom was solemn and silent.
Sophia stood in the defendant's box wearing prison clothes, her face ashen.
She'd accepted her fate.
Her mother was under James's control. Her only hope now was to be sentenced to death. Trade her life for her mother's safety.
The prosecutor read the indictment aloud, listing her "crimes" one by one.
Sophia closed her eyes, waiting for the confession she'd signed to be presented in court. The document that would nail her to the pillar of shame forever.
But she waited a long time.
The most critical piece of evidence never appeared.
James sat in the first row of the gallery, his face cold and unreadable.
He just watched her quietly. His gaze was bottomless.
He didn't submit the confession.
Why?
Was it a last shred of mercy? Or the beginning of another torment?
Sophia couldn't figure it out.
Finally, the judge struck the gavel.
"The defendant, Sophia Grey, is found guilty of assault. Sentenced to three years in prison."
Three years.
The verdict surprised everyone.
The trial ended. Sophia was led away by the bailiffs.
As she passed the gallery, she saw her mother, who'd rushed to the courthouse. Tears streamed down her face like broken pearls.
"Sophia!"
"Mom," Sophia stopped, smiled through the crowd with all the strength she had left, "wait for me. Three years will pass quickly. Take care of yourself. When I get out, we'll find her... or him. Together."
Her mother covered her mouth, sobbing uncontrollably.
James never looked at her once. He simply stood, turned indifferently to Owen beside him, and said, "Let the prison know. No special treatment."
"No special treatment."
In certain places, those words were a free pass for anyone to abuse her.
Women's prison.
The heavy iron door slammed shut behind her with a deafening clang, cutting off the last of the light.
In the dim, damp cell, a dozen pairs of eyes landed on Sophia all at once. Like they were sizing up a new toy.
A burly woman with a brutal face, a toothpick dangling from her mouth, jumped down from the top bunk. She walked up to Sophia and patted her cheek with one rough hand.
"Fresh meat? Pretty face, too."
This was Fisty, the cell boss.
Sophia didn't say anything. She just lowered her eyes.
"Oh, got some attitude, huh?" Fisty sneered and jerked her chin at the other inmates. "Girls, teach her the rules around here."
Two women immediately stepped forward and grabbed Sophia's arms from both sides.
Sophia's stomach was already throbbing with pain. She had no strength to resist. They dragged her easily.
"What are you doing?"
"What are we doing?" Fisty's smile was full of malice. "Someone paid good money for us to 'take care' of you. Let's start with some time in the bathroom to cool off."
Before Sophia could react, she was shoved into a narrow, filthy toilet stall.
The door slammed shut.
It locked from the outside, sealing off all sound. All that remained was the drip of rusted pipes and her own increasingly labored breathing.
In the cramped space, the smell of mold and filth mixed together, making her dizzy.
Sophia slid down against the cold door and sat on the floor. The twisting pain in her stomach came in waves, each one more violent than the last.
She curled into herself, burying her head in her knees.
James.
His name rolled through her mind, bringing not love, but sharp, piercing pain.
"No special treatment."
That one sentence was like an invisible brand, already etched into her fate.
She knew this was just the beginning.
After what felt like an eternity, the lock clicked open.
Fisty's brutal face appeared in the doorway. She kicked the door impatiently. "You dead yet? If not, get out here and get to work!"
Sophia braced herself against the wall and struggled to stand. Her legs were numb.
From that day on, her prison life became the most detailed interpretation of "no special treatment."
The dirtiest, hardest work in the cell was hers.
Washing everyone's stinking socks. Scrubbing toilets that never came clean. Wiping greasy floors with ragged cloths.
At mealtimes, her already meager portion would be "accidentally" knocked over. Or straight-up stolen.
She could only wait until everyone finished eating, then scrape together leftovers and shove them into her stomach.
But her stomach was already in terrible shape. Every time she ate, violent pain followed. It hurt so much she'd curl up on the cold bed all night, cold sweat soaking through her thin prison uniform.
The other inmates saw her suffering and didn't feel an ounce of sympathy. They just laughed.
"Oh, playing the victim again?"
"She killed someone, big deal. Acting all innocent in here."
Sophia never argued. Never cried.
She just endured it all in silence.
The more silent she was, the more Fisty hated her.
Winter came.
The prison had no heat. It was damp and freezing, like an ice cellar.
