Captive Princess (Sophia) novel Chapter 12

“No, just a little tired.”

“Then get some more sleep,” Vincent said, closing the curtains and dimming the lights. “I’ll be right here with you.”

The tender, domestic scene was a knife twisting in my heart.

I bit my lip so hard I could taste blood, forcing myself not to cry out.

I turned away from the VIP wing and went back to my own room.

Don’t cry, Sophia. You can’t cry.

Four days before I was scheduled to fly to Boston for the wedding, I was discharged.

As I stepped out of the hospital, I saw Vincent leaning against his black car, waiting.

“Get in,” he said.

“I’ll get a cab.”

“Get in.” Vincent’s tone left no room for argument.

I looked at his cold, hard expression and finally slid into the car.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“To clear your head,” Vincent said, starting the car. “You’ve been cooped up in the hospital for too long.”

Half an hour later, he pulled up in front of Sotheby’s auction house in Midtown.

“An auction?” I looked at the poster by the entrance.

“There’s an art auction today,” Vincent said, getting out. “I thought you liked this sort of thing.”

I was about to refuse, but when he handed me the auction catalog, my eyes caught a familiar item.

Lot 47: A Pearl Necklace.

My hands began to shake.

Just as I was about to sit, a familiar voice called out.

“Vincent!”

Isabella walked over, wearing a pale pink dress. Her head was still wrapped in gauze, but she was as beautiful and fragile as ever.

She linked her arm through Vincent’s.

“Sophia’s here too,” Isabella said, smiling sweetly at me. “I told Vincent I wanted to apologize to you in person today. I didn’t think he’d actually bring you to the auction.”

In that moment, everything became painfully clear.

Vincent didn’t bring me here to cheer me up or clear my head.

He brought me because Isabella wanted to “apologize,” and I was just a prop he brought along for the ride.

I looked at Isabella’s triumphant smile, and the last bit of pain in my heart vanished, replaced by a cold, hard numbness.