Chapter 108: Chapter 108 Marriage Disaster
SOPHIA’S POV
I let myself into Stone Villa using my key. The container of warm cereal was in my hands.
Franca appeared from the kitchen, looking surprised to see . "Mrs. Stone! I didn’t know you were coming."
"Where is everyone?" I asked.
"Alpha took Miss Ashley back to the hospital for observation. They admitted her again - the pain got worse." Franca sighed. "I thought he would have told you."
Of course, he hadn’t. Why would he? I’d made it clear I was stepping back.
I set the cereal container on the counter, suddenly feeling foolish. I’d rushed here, made this food, and nobody was even ho to eat it.
"I’ll put this in the fridge," Franca said gently. "I’m sure Miss Ashley will want it when she gets back."
I nodded, too tired to speak. My fever was getting worse. I could feel it in the way my skin felt too hot and too cold at the sa ti, in the way the edges of my vision kept blurring.
My phone rang. Damien’s na flashed on the screen.
I considered not answering, but Franca was watching, so I picked up.
"Sophia, where are you?" Damien asked.
"At the villa. I brought the cereal Ashley wanted."
"You didn’t have to-" He stopped, took a breath. "Look, I need to ask you sothing. I have a business trip this weekend to Singapore. It’s been scheduled for months and I can’t cancel it."
"Okay." I waited for him to get to the point.
"I need soone to stay with Ashley while I’m gone. Franca will be here, but Ashley needs..." He trailed off.
"Needs what?" I prompted
"She needs her mother, even if she doesn’t want to admit it right now."
The words should have made
feel better but they didn’t. They just made
feel like another obligation on his list.
"When’s your flight?" I asked.
"Friday night. I’ll be back Monday morning."
I ntally ran through my schedule. I had Friday and Saturday off, and I could probably trade shifts to get Sunday and Monday covered.
"Fine”
I hung up before he could say anything else.
Franca was still watching
with those kind, worried eyes. "Mrs. Stone, please at least have so tea before you leave. You’re shaking."
I was. I hadn’t even noticed.
I let her lead
to the kitchen and sat at the counter while she made tea. The warmth of the cup felt good against my hands, even if I was too nauseous to drink much.
My phone buzzed with a text. It was from Samantha, a friend from dical school.
Hey! Are you free for coffee tomorrow? I’m in town for a conference.
I typed back: Sure. What ti?
2pm? That café near the hospital?
See you there.
It would be good to see Samantha. She’d been one of my closest friends in school, before life and careers pulled us in different directions. Maybe talking to soone outside of this ss would help
feel human again.
The next day, I t Samantha at the café. She looked exactly the sa. She had a bright smile and brown eyes.
"Sophia!" She hugged
tight. "You look..."
"Terrible?"
"I was going to say tired." She pulled back, studying my face. "Are you okay?"
"Long week." I sat down across from her. "Tell
about the conference. What are you presenting?"
We talked about her research for a while, and it felt good to think about dicine instead of my collapsing marriage. But eventually, Samantha’s expression turned serious.
"I need to tell you sothing," she said carefully. "And I debated whether I should, but we’ve been friends too long for
to keep quiet."
My stomach dropped. "What is it?"
"I saw Damien yesterday at the hospital." She paused. "He was with a woman. Young, pretty, they were..." She swallowed. "Very close. He was carrying her purse."
Tiffany. Of course.
"They went into one of the private consultation rooms together," Samantha continued. "I asked the receptionist who she was—thought maybe she was a patient or sothing. But she said the woman was visiting from out of town and Mr. Stone had arranged for her to see the specialist."
Tiffany must have been getting checked before flying back. And Damien had gone with her, held her purse, been her support.
Like a husband would.
"Sophia, I’m so sorry." Samantha reached across the table and took my hand. "If I’d known he was cheating-"
"It’s okay," I said. I was surprised by how calm my voice sounded. "I know about Tiffany."
Samantha’s eyes widened. "And you’re still with him?"
"We’re getting divorced. It’s just... taking ti." I took a sip of my coffee. "In his heart, I think I’m actually the third wheel. Tiffany’s the one he wants to be with."
"Jesus, Sophia." Samantha squeezed my hand harder. "You deserve so much better than this."
"Maybe. But this is what I have." I managed a weak smile. "Enough about my disaster of a marriage. Tell
more about your research."
We talked for another hour, but I could tell Samantha was worried about . When we parted ways, she made
promise to call her if I needed anything.
I found myself walking through the mall afterward, not really sure where I was going. My feet carried
past stores.
Then I saw it - a children’s clothing store with a display of tiny dresses in the window.
I stopped, staring at a pink dress with white flowers. It was exactly Ashley’s size. Exactly her style. She’d love it.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I walked inside.
I found myself picking out clothes - dresses and shirts and leggings in colors and patterns I knew Ashley would like.
The saleswoman was helpful. She kept talking about her own daughter, making suggestions. I nodded and smiled and kept adding things to my pile.
"Your daughter’s going to love these," the saleswoman said as we walked to the checkout counter.
"I hope so," I said, though a voice in my head whispered that Ashley probably wouldn’t care. That she’d rather have gifts from Tiffany.
But I couldn’t stop myself. This was all I had left - buying things for my daughter, showing love the only way she might accept it.
The total ca to just over two thousand dollars. I pulled out the credit card Damien had given
years ago.
The card reader beeped. It was declined.
I stared at it, confused. "Can you try again?"
The saleswoman swiped it again. It was the sa result.
"Do you have another card?" she asked kindly.
My face burned with embarrassnt. "Let
call my bank."
I stepped away from the counter and dialed Damien’s number.
"Sophia? Is sothing wrong?" he spoke.
"Did you cancel my credit card?" I asked.
There was a pause. "I didn’t cancel it. I put a spending limit on it."
My hands shook with even more humiliation and anger. "A spending limit."
"Yes-”
"I’m trying to buy clothes for our daughter! And my card is being declined in front of a store full of people because you decided to put a leash on my spending!"
"How much are you trying to spend?" His tone had shifted to annoyed.
"That’s not the point!"
"Just tell
how much and I’ll transfer the money to your personal account."
The condescension in his voice made
pissed. He sounded like I was a child asking for an allowance. It made my blood boil.
"I don’t want your money," I said through gritted teeth.
With that, I hung up on him
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