Chapter 7 Suicide

INSTANTLY, Sophia wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She felt an overpowering urge to flee, either back into the room to lock herself away, or straight out of the house altogether. Her pulse raced, her knees felt weak.

This was one of the last people she had ever hoped to see, not this morning, not any morning, not even ever.

Lady Frances sat rigidly at the dining table, her gaze fixed on Sophia, sharp and unyielding. The older woman's eyes seemed to pierce through her, the weight of her presence making Sophia's stomach tighten painfully. Fear gripped her chest like a vice.

She couldn't speak. Not even a stutter escaped her lips. She just stood there, frozen, caught in those accusing eyes.

"Mannerless girl! You can't even greet?" Lady Frances's voice sliced through the silence like a blade.

Sophia flinched.

"Wasteful child! Just look at what you have done. Something I'm sure your miserable, dead parents, whom you killed couldn't have afforded if they were still alive!" Lady Frances spat the words like venom, gesturing to the beverage cans spilling their contents onto the floor as she rose from her seat.

Sophia instinctively stepped back as the older woman advanced.

"Stupid!" she hissed, "trying to reap where you never sowed. Tell me, how do you think you are going to survive in this family? Never!" Her voice rose, echoing off the walls.

Still, Sophia couldn't speak. The fear in her eyes was plain, and it only seemed to fuel Lady Frances's fury.

"What? Cat got your tongue? Or are you truly dumb? You can't even defend yourself?" she taunted, waving a dismissive hand in Sophia's face.

"Jeez! I can't imagine what that stubborn son of mine sees in you," she sneered. "Bad-luck child... cursed child from a cursed family. You are far too low for a family like ours. Even if Oswald accepts you, the Escobar family never will."

She stopped directly in front of her now, staring into Sophia's tear-brimmed eyes. Sophia's body trembled, and when she could no longer hold it back, a single tear slid down her cheek.

Lady Frances's lips curled in satisfaction, this was exactly what she wanted to see.

"Ma'am... pl-please... your son and I... we love each other," Sophia finally managed to whisper.

The sound of the slap cracked through the air before the words even finished leaving her mouth. Pain shot through her cheek as she winced.

"How dare you speak when I am speaking? Who told you about love? What do you, a silly little girl know about it?" Lady Frances's voice was a growl.

Sophia's tears now flowed freely, her body shuddering with each sob.

"If you truly loved him, you would have left him long ago," Lady Frances pressed on. "This isn't love, it is destruction. You hate him, and that is why you hide the truth. You are not good for him. You are a sickler!"

Her voice dripped with scorn.

"You have turned my once obedient son into a stubborn mule who no longer listens to his own mother or father. All he hears is you."

Lady Frances's gaze dropped to the cans on the floor.

"And what are you doing here this morning with beverages? Shouldn't you be at work, like other women your age? Instead, you sit here, leeching off my son for every single thing!"

Sophia clutched her stinging cheek, her sobs making her shoulders shake.

Finally, Lady Frances drew in a deep breath, her tone lowering but her words still sharp.

"Listen carefully, I don't want to see you, or anything that belongs to you, in this house again. By this evening, I will bring a real wife for my son. Someone worthy. So, you will leave. Immediately."

Sophia's eyes widened. A wife? For Oswald? The thought struck her like ice.

"I said now!" Lady Frances barked, snapping her back into motion.

Without another word, Sophia turned and ran to the bedroom.

She flung open the closet, grabbing clothes, shoes, and every personal item she owned, tossing them into the small box she had brought them in. Her tears blurred her vision as she packed in a frenzy.

She was still cramming her belongings inside when Lady Frances appeared in the doorway, arms folded, watching with a smirk and a slow, satisfied nod.

Within minutes, Sophia was done. She grabbed her phone, heaved the box into her arms, and marched out, her sobs echoing through the hall. She didn't look back as she left the house, crossed the compound, and slid into her car. The tires crunched over the driveway as she drove away, tears streaming.

In the kitchen, the maids had overheard everything. They exchanged glances, their faces heavy with sadness.

"Ma'am Sophia was such a kind soul," one whispered, her voice trembling. "She never made trouble, always treated us with respect."

"I don't even feel like cooking anymore," another admitted. "Who will tell us our food tastes wonderful now? Who will thank us?"

The others murmured in agreement, but their conversation died abruptly as Lady Frances swept into the room.

The air went still.

"Mind your work, not matters that don't concern you," she said coldly, her gaze sweeping over them.

"No one, and I mean no one is to tell my son what happened here. If I find out, consider yourselves dead."

Fear rooted them to the spot.

"Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, My Lady," they murmured, nodding their heads.

She narrowed her eyes.

"Speak up. Stop nodding like lizards."

"Yes, My Lady!" they chorused.

"Good. Finish the cooking and serve me," she said, before walking out.

The maids quickly returned to work, their hands trembling.

***

Sophia arrived home shattered. If she had been demoralized before, now she felt crushed beyond repair.

'What is the point of life anymore?' she thought. No parents, no siblings, no family... and now, no love.

Her sobs wracked her body as she collapsed onto the bed.

Lady Frances's words echoed in her mind: 'By evening, I am bringing in a well-befitting wife for my son.'

For Oswald. Her Oswald.

She wept harder. It felt like everyone had rejected her, the people, society, and now even Oswald's parents. The pain was unbearable.

She couldn't imagine him in another woman's arms. She didn't want to.

She was done, done with love, done with life.

***

Meanwhile, Oswald's car screeched into Sophia's driveway. Moments earlier, he had come home from work expecting to find her there, only to discover her absence, and her belongings gone!

He had called her again and again, but she never answered.

When he asked the maids, they claimed to know nothing. But the guards, in hushed voices, told him fragments of what had happened that morning.

His mother had been there.

His blood ran cold. He jumped into his car and sped to Sophia's place.

Now, he was pounding on her door, calling her name.

"Sophia! Open the door, please!"

Silence greeted him.

A knot of panic tightened in his gut. He kicked the door hard and it flew open.

The house was still, unnervingly so.

"Sophia?" His voice cracked as he moved through the rooms. "Sophia!"

Then he reached her bedroom, and froze.

Her body lay motionless on the floor.

Beside her was a small bottle, a folded note pinned beneath a pen.

Oswald's breath caught. He picked up the bottle and inhaled, there was no scent, no label he could recognize. He set it down and turned to her again.

"Sophia?" He knelt beside her, shaking her gently at first, then harder.

He grabbed the note and his eyes raced across the words.

Tears blurred his vision. The paper fell from his hand.

"No... noooooo!" His cry ripped through the room as he collapsed beside her.

She was gone.