Chapter 3: The Woman Upstairs
The music stopped the moment Daniel walked into the living room.
Guests turned. Conversations died.
And there she was.
Sophia.
Elegant. Composed. A glass of wine still in her hand like nothing had happened.
“Oh—you’re early,” she said casually, her eyes flicking briefly to Ethan. “What is this mess?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
“Explain,” he said coldly.
Sophia sighed, as if inconvenienced.
“He’s dramatic. He needed discipline. You’re never here, Daniel—I have to manage things somehow.”
“By locking my son in a cage?”
Her expression hardened.
“He’s your son,” she snapped. “Not mine.”
Silence fell like a blade.
Guests shifted uncomfortably. Some reached for their coats.
Daniel stepped forward, voice low but deadly calm.
“You don’t get to decide how far is too far.”
Sophia laughed softly. “And you do? You’re never even—”
“Get out.”
Her smile vanished.
“What?”
“Get. Out.”
May you like
The room held its breath.
And for the first time… Sophia looked unsure.
