Chapter 8 Uninvited

• Evening came, and it was time to pick up Martha.
• Arzhel had left a little earlier. Since he came by the studio, I figured he probably went to get his son too—even if school hadn’t finished yet.
• When I got to Martha’s school, the usual noise of children playing had already faded. Most of the parents had picked up their kids.
• But when I reached her classroom—
• Martha wasn’t there.
• I froze.
• She was always here. Always waiting by the door, swinging her bag, smiling when she saw me.
• I looked at her teacher, heart starting to race. “Where’s Martha?”
• The teacher smiled politely. “Oh—her father came to pick her up.”
• My blood ran cold.
• “What?” I asked, voice sharp. “Who?”
• “Her dad,” she repeated, clearly confused by my reaction. “He said you’d arranged it.”
• I shook my head. “No. I didn’t.”
• Her smile faded. “He… he said he was her father. He knew her name. She was happy to see him.”
• My heart started pounding, panic rising like a wave I couldn’t stop.
• No one picks up Martha but me.
• No one.
• I grabbed my phone with shaking hands and dialed Theo’s number.
• It rang once.
• Twice.
• Then voicemail.
• And the fear in my chest turned into something colder.
• Something deeper.
• Because if Theo had picked her up…
• Why wasn’t he answering?
• I didn’t even remember getting into the car.
• One moment, I was standing there, the teacher’s words still echoing in my ears. The next, I was behind the wheel, speeding through the narrow streets of Manchester like a mad woman. Horns blared. Tires screeched. I didn’t care.
• My hands were trembling so badly I could barely grip the steering wheel.
• Please be home. Please be safe.
• I pulled into the driveway and barely put the car in park before jumping out. I ran to the front door and shoved it open with a force that rattled the frame.
• “Martha!” I shouted, breathless. “Martha!”
• Silence.
• I dropped my bag. My heart pounded so loud it drowned out everything else. My vision blurred.
• “Martha!” I called again, louder this time—desperate.
• Still nothing.
• My knees nearly buckled as I stumbled further inside, scanning every corner of the living room.
• Then, a soft voice floated from upstairs.
• “In here, Mummy!”
• I exhaled so hard I nearly collapsed.
• “Oh my God—Martha!” I cried, racing up the stairs two at a time.
• She was sitting on her bed, kicking off her shoes, completely unharmed. Safe. Whole.
• I rushed to her, sank to my knees, and pulled her into my arms like I’d just dragged her from a burning building.
• She giggled, caught off guard. “What’s wrong, Mummy?”
• I kissed the top of her head, over and over again. “Nothing, baby. Nothing. You’re okay.”
• She leaned back and studied my face, those bright eyes narrowing with concern.
• “Mummy… were you crying?”
• I quickly wiped my tears with the back of my hand. “No. Just tired, that’s all.”
• She didn’t push.
• Instead, her face lit up, full of innocent excitement. “Daddy came to get me from school today! We had so much fun!”
• She smiled wide, completely unaware of the storm tearing through my chest.
• I nodded slowly, my throat burning. “That’s… nice, sweetheart.”
• But inside?
• I was already reaching for my phone again—because Theo had crossed a line.
• And this time, I wasn’t letting it go.
• Footsteps creaked on the stairs behind me.
• I turned, pulse still thudding in my ears, just as Theo appeared at the landing—calm as ever, hands in his pockets like he hadn’t just stolen a piece of my soul.
• “There you are,” he said, smiling faintly. “Was just about to come down.”
• My voice came out sharper than I meant. “Why weren’t you answering your phone?”
• He blinked. “Oh—I didn’t even hear it ring. Must’ve left it on silent.”
• Silent.
• My hands clenched at my sides.
• Before I said something I couldn’t take back in front of Martha, I turned to her and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
• “Martha, sweetheart,” I said, voice as steady as I could manage. “Can you go to your room for a bit? Mommy and Daddy need to talk.”
• She looked between us, a little confused, but nodded. “Okay.”
• She padded upstairs, humming to herself, completely unaware of the explosion about to erupt downstairs.
• As soon as her door clicked shut, I turned back to Theo—and the restraint cracked.
• “You took her without telling me,” I hissed. “You picked up my daughter from school without my permission.”
• “Our daughter,” he said, too casually.
• I boiled. Stepped forward, finger pointed. “Don’t say that like you earned the right to. Don’t throw around words like our just because it suits you now.”
• His jaw tightened. “How many times will I have to tell you I’ve changed, Sofia?”
• “And how many times do you expect me to believe it?” I snapped. “You think saying ‘I’ve changed’ is some magic spell that undoes everything? That erases what you did to me? What you put me through?”
• His voice dropped, defensive. “I know what I did. I live with it.”
• “Do you?” I laughed bitterly. “Because I don’t think you do. I think you sleep fine at night while I have to lie to her why she never got to know her daddy. Why I flinch every time your name comes up in conversation.”
• Theo’s shoulders tensed. His face pinched like he wanted to say something—defend himself, spin the story—but I didn’t give him the space.
• “Sofia—”
• “No,” I cut in. “You don’t get to say my name like that. Not after today. You scared me. You scared me in a way I can’t even explain. You made me feel like I was losing myself all over again. And the worst part? You don’t even get to see it.
• Theo took a slow step toward me, but I backed away just as quickly. The space between us felt like a battlefield, and every inch he gained felt like surrender.
• “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, voice low. “I just wanted to spend time with her. I wanted her to know me.”
• “Then you ask. You don’t show up and steal her from school like this is some kind of game.”
• “She’s my daughter too,” he said through clenched teeth. “You can’t erase me from her life.”
• “I’m not trying to erase you,” I said, my voice breaking at the edges. “I’m trying to protect her.”
• Theo’s eyes darkened, but I didn’t flinch this time.
• “Protect her from what?” he bit out, like he genuinely didn’t understand—or maybe didn’t want to.
• “From you,” I snapped. “From your dangerous world. Your mafia life. Your enemies. Your power games. Your stupid wars that you pretend are about honour but always leave people bleeding on the floor.”
• He stilled, jaw tight.
• “I don’t want my daughter to wake up one day to a bullet in our mailbox, Theo. I don’t want her learning to lie before she can spell because Daddy’s enemies are watching. I don’t want to see her used as leverage, as bait, as a name scribbled in someone’s hitlist because you still haven’t cleaned up your messes.”
• “Sofia—”
• “I know that world, Theo!” I shouted, hands shaking now. “I lived in it. My father and you dragged me into it! And don’t you dare stand there and act like it wasn’t your fault.”
• He flinched at that.
• But I was far past caring.
• “I was collateral,” I said, voice trembling, raw. “You used me because my father refused to pay five million. You used my body to make a statement. You raped me and then pretended it was business.”
• His mouth parted—whether to deny it or defend it, I didn’t care.
• “No. You don’t speak,” I said, breathing hard. “You don’t get to speak when you’ve already rewritten the story in your head.”
• He looked wrecked now. Pale. Silent. Maybe even ashamed.
• But shame was a luxury I’d never been given.
• His eyes glistened, but I didn’t stop.
• “I’m protecting her from growing up with blood on her doorstep. From midnight knocks. From disappearances, bodyguards, secrets. From the way I used to flinch every time I heard you coming.”
• Theo didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
• “I won’t let her become a bargaining chip like I was,” I said quietly. “She’s not your redemption story, Theo. She’s my daughter. Mine. And I won’t let you break her like you broke me.”
• And with that, I turned away—because if I looked at him any longer, I might start to crumble.