BOUND BY THE BILLIONAIRE LAWYER.

The blood came first.

Sophie Myers stood frozen, her hands trembling as she stared down at the deep crimson pooling around her feet. The silk of her pale dress clung to her thighs, stained and ruined. She blinked, trying to focus, but the sounds of the party around her, the laughter, the music, and the clinking of champagne glasses-were all drowned out by the thundering of her heart.

No.

Her stomach twisted violently, a sharp pain shooting through her body. She sucked in a breath, barely able to stand. Her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the marble table beside her, nails scraping against the surface.

"Edward." Her voice was small, breaking under the weight of her panic. She found him a few steps away, his back to her, perfectly poised with his colleagues. "Edward, please..."

Her husband turned slowly, a glass of whiskey balanced between his fingers. His expression hardened the moment his gaze met hers, a flicker of irritation at the interruption, as though she were a child tugging at his sleeve.

"What is it, Sophie?" he asked. His voice was low, flat, laced with impatience.

"I'm bleeding," she whispered, her words trembling on her lips. "Something's wrong."

Edward's brows furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he regarded her for a moment. Then he sighed. A heavy, exasperated sound. "Go to the bathroom. Fix yourself up."

Her knees buckled. She reached for him, desperate for support, but he stepped back. "Edward-"

"For God's sake, Sophie, not here."

It happened all at once.

The sharp, searing pain surged through her abdomen, forcing the air from her lungs. The edges of her vision darkened as her body crumbled, the floor rushing up to meet her. The last thing she saw before everything went black was Edward's polished shoes stepping out of her way.

***

The first thing Sophie noticed when she woke was the cold.

The sterile smell of antiseptic burned her nose, and her body felt unnaturally heavy, pinned to the thin hospital bed. Her head throbbed. She tried to lift her arms, but they felt like lead.

"Mrs. Flynn?"

A nurse hovered beside her, adjusting the IV drip. Her expression was gentle, but her eyes were full of pity. Sophie opened her mouth to speak, but her voice came out hoarse.

"What..." Her throat burned. "What happened?"

The nurse hesitated. "You've had a miscarriage, ma'am."

Miscarriage.

The word cut through Sophie like a blade, it was sharp and merciless. Her hand instinctively touched her stomach, fingers pressing against the flatness beneath the hospital gown.

Gone.

She closed her eyes as tears burned behind her lids. It was all too much, the pain, the emptiness, the silence pressing down on her.

"You're awake."

The voice was cold and indifferent. Sophie's eyes fluttered open. Edward stood at the foot of the bed, dressed impeccably in his tailored suit. He looked out of place in the harsh hospital light, too perfect, too composed.

Her lips parted, but no words came.

Edward's gaze flickered to the nurse. "Leave us."

The woman gave Sophie one last glance before slipping out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

"You didn't have to come," Sophie managed, her voice sounding weak.

Edward raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of amusement in his expression. "Don't flatter yourself, Sophie. I needed to see you awake."

She frowned, confusion clouding her features. "Why?"

Edward didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a file. He placed it on the small tray table beside her bed with a dull thud.

"What is that?"

"Divorce papers," Edward said.

The words hung in the air like smoke, choking her. Sophie stared at the folder, unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

"Divorce?" Her voice trembled. "Edward, you can't be serious. Not... not now."

Edward's expression didn't change. If anything, his gaze grew colder. "I've been serious for a while, Sophie. I wanted this before the party, but I waited. Now there's no reason to delay."

"No reason?" Her voice cracked, tears pooling in her eyes. "I just lost our child, Edward."

"And I'm sorry for that," he replied, though his tone said otherwise. "But this has nothing to do with it. It's over, Sophie. It's been over for a long time."

Sophie stared at him, searching his face for something, regret, sadness, anything. But Edward Flynn was a man carved from stone. The husband she once loved, the man who had once whispered promises into her ear, was nowhere to be found.

"Why now?" she whispered.

Edward sighed, glancing at his watch. "I'm not here to argue. Just sign the papers, Sophie."

He pushed the file closer to her, the pen resting neatly on top.

Sophie's hands shook as she reached for it, her body still weak from everything she'd lost. The pain in her chest was unbearable, but not a single tear fell. She wouldn't cry in front of him. Not now.

Edward watched her, clearly expecting resistance. He was ready for a fight, ready for her to beg, to plead. But she didn't.

Sophie picked up the pen, steadying her grip.

"What happens to me after this?" she asked softly, not looking at him.

Edward's voice was cold. "That's not my concern and you will get alimony ."

Her heart splintered, but her face remained blank. Without another word, she pressed the pen to the paper and signed her name, once, then again.

The scratching of the pen against the paper was the only sound in the room. When she finished, she set the pen down and pushed the file back toward him.

Edward blinked, clearly surprised. He hadn't expected her to let go so easily.

"It's done," she said quietly, her voice was empty.

He stared at her for a moment, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. For the briefest of seconds, Sophie thought she saw regret. But it was gone just as quickly.

Edward picked up the file, tucking it neatly under his arm. "I'll have someone collect the rest of your things from the house."

He turned and walked toward the door, his polished shoes clicking against the hospital floor. At the threshold, he paused, looking back at her.

"Take care of yourself, Sophie."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Sophie alone in the cold, sterile room.

She lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling as silence filled the space around her.

She wasn't Edward Flynn's wife anymore.

Sophie Myers, the woman who once wore his name was now just another divorcee.

The tears came quietly, trailing down her cheeks, but she didn't sob. She let them fall until there was nothing left.

And when the tears dried, something else settled deep inside her chest, something cold and unbreakable.

It was over.

But Sophie wasn't.

The week after, the hospital felt like a blur.

Sophie Myers moved through the days on autopilot, eating when the nurses reminded her, staring at the beige walls of her hospital room, and ignoring the pity in the doctor's eyes when he checked on her recovery. Her body was healing, but her mind wasn't.

Edward hadn't returned after the divorce papers. No calls, no messages, not even an assistant to deliver the rest of her belongings.

On the eighth day, Sophie stood by the window, the hospital gown hanging loose on her shoulders as sunlight poured in. Enough was enough. If Edward wouldn't keep his end of the deal, she'd handle it herself.

♡♡♡

When Sophie arrived at the mansion, it felt like walking into a hollow memory lane.

The Flynn estate was as grand as ever, with arched gates, pristine lawns, the long driveway she used to love. But something was off.

Too quiet.

Her heels clicked against the marble floors as she entered, carrying the faint echo of an empty house. There were no servants bustling around, no smell of fresh coffee in the air.

"Hello?" Her voice carried through the empty hall. No response.

She moved room to room, gathering her things methodically. Clothes, jewellery, books, things that once belonged to a happy wife. It felt surreal, folding parts of her life into neat boxes. She paused in the master bedroom, where their wedding photo still sat on the bedside table.

Her throat tightened as she picked it up. Edward's smile that was once pure and beautiful looked back at her. Her fingers hovered over the glass before she dropped the frame into a box with a thud.

She moved faster after that, clearing drawers and packing bags. At some point, she found herself standing in Edward's study, staring at his heavy oak desk. It had been his sanctuary, a place she wasn't allowed to touch. Now, it felt abandoned, too.

"Where is he?" she whispered to no one, her voice small.

She shook the thought off, pushing it away with the memories she didn't want. Within two hours, Sophie was gone. She didn't look back.

The apartment was small, nothing like the mansion she had shared with Edward, but it was hers. Sophie unpacked in silence, setting up her space as best she could.

But no amount of decorating could distract her from the hollowness inside her.

It hit her late at night, lying on the new bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling. Edward was gone. The life she'd built around him, years of marriage, moments of compromise, pain, and hope was gone, too.

And despite everything, she still missed him.

"Pathetic," she muttered to herself, turning over.

But the grief didn't care. It clawed at her chest, stealing her sleep and choking her in the silence.

***

By the third day, Sophie couldn't stand the emptiness of her apartment anymore.

She dressed in her sleekest black dress, painted on a red lip, and went out. She wasn't sure where she was going until she arrived at the club. A place she hadn't visited in years. a part of her past she'd left behind when she married Edward.

Inside, the music thumped against her skin, it was loud and heavy. She welcomed it.

Sophie ordered a drink and sat at the bar, watching people dance, laugh, and lose themselves under the flashing lights. She envied them. their freedom, their carelessness.

One drink turned into two. Then three.

The alcohol blurred the sharp edges of her thoughts, numbing her just enough to breathe. But even as she tried to lose herself in the haze, something felt off.

Her phone buzzed with a message she ignored. A man sat next to her, trying to strike up a conversation she didn't bother to hear.

And then, chaos.

Bright beams of flashlights cut through the crowd as shouts echoed over the music. "Everybody stay where you are!"

The music screeched to a stop. Sophie turned toward the entrance as men in uniforms flooded the room. it was the police.

The crowd broke into panicked murmurs, people holding up their hands or shoving toward the exits. A hand gripped Sophie's arm.

"Miss Myers?"

She blinked up at the officer. "What's happening?"

"You're coming with us."

"What? No, I-"

"You're under arrest."

The words struck her like a punch to the gut. Sophie staggered, the room spinning around her as cuffs clicked tightly around her wrists.

"Arrest? For what?"

The officer didn't answer. He pulled her through the stunned crowd, out into the night where red and blue lights bathed the street.

Sophie tried to keep up, tried to ask questions, but nothing made sense. She was shoved into the back of a police car, the door slamming shut behind her.

The ride to the station felt endless. Sophie's head swam as fear wrapped itself around her like a vice. When they finally stopped, she was escorted into a cold interrogation room. The cuffs came off, but her hands still shook.

She sat at the table, staring at her reflection in the one-way glass. Her makeup was smudged, her eyes wide and confused.

Why am I here?

The door opened, and a detective walked in-a man with greying hair and a tired face. He dropped a file onto the table and looked at her, his gaze unreadable.

"Sophie Myers?"

"Yes." Her voice cracked. "Why am I here? What's going on?"

The detective sat down across from her. "Do you know where your husband is?"

Sophie frowned. "Edward? I-I don't know. I haven't seen him since..."

The words caught in her throat. Since she signed the divorce papers. Since she went back to the mansion and found it empty.

"You haven't seen him?" the detective repeated, studying her face.

"No," she whispered. "What happened?"

The detective opened the file, flipping it around so she could see the contents. A photograph stared up at her. It was Edward-his face pale, eyes closed, a dark wound staining his shirt.

Sophie recoiled, her breath catching. "What... no. What is this?"

"Edward Flynn was found dead two days ago," the detective said slowly. "And you, Mrs. Myers, are our prime suspect."

The room tilted. Sophie gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. "Dead?"

The detective didn't blink. "You were seen at his house the day he died."

Her mind spun. The empty mansion. The silence. "No, I didn't- I didn't kill him! I packed my things. I-"

He held up a hand. "Your fingerprints were found on several items in the study. And until we figure this out, you're staying in custody."

Sophie stared at him, numbness flooding her veins.

Edward was dead.

She was being accused of his murder.

And for the first time, it clicked.

The empty house. The silence when she asked about Edward.

Someone had set her up.

But who?

Before she could speak, the detective stood and left the room, leaving Sophie alone in the cold, sterile space. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she sank back into the chair, the walls closing in on her.

Her mind replayed everything-the party, the hospital, the mansion. Edward's cold words. His absence.

And then, a chilling thought crept in.

Was Edward already dead when I was there?

Sophie sat on the hard cot in her cell, staring at the peeling paint on the grey walls. Two days. Forty-eight hours of nothing but silence, stale food, and the cold realization that no one was coming for her.

The police had given her no lawyer, no phone call. They'd left her there like a criminal without rights without a voice. When the metal door creaked open on the third morning, she didn't even look up.

"You're allowed to see a lawyer now," the officer said flatly.

Sophie's head snapped up. "Finally," she muttered under her breath as she stood, her legs stiff from sitting too long.

The interrogation room was colder this time, Sophie sat across from a rotating series of lawyers, faces that looked her over once, their expressions were guarded, and left within minutes.

The excuses were endless. "It's a conflict of interest." "I can't take on a case of this magnitude." "I have other commitments."

But she knew the truth. None of them wanted to cross Edward Flynn, not even in death. His wealth, his name, his influence-they were still powerful enough to haunt her.

On the sixth lawyer, a middle-aged man in an expensive suit sighed as he closed his briefcase. "Mrs. Myers, you don't need a lawyer. You need a miracle."

His words hit like a slap. Sophie sat frozen, watching him walk out of the room, the door shutting behind him with an ominous click.

A miracle.

Her mind whirled, desperation clawing at her chest. A name floated to the surface. It was distant but clear. Lucas Carter.

***

Sophie leaned against the payphone in the holding area, the receiver cold against her ear. She held her breath as the line rang once, twice. She knew it was a long shot. It had been years since she last saw Lucas.

Back then, they were only acquaintances. Friends, if you stretched the word thin. Lucas was sharp, influential, and connected in places she never thought she'd need. But most importantly, he owed her.

On the fourth ring, someone picked up.

"Sophie?" His voice was deep, familiar, though tinged with surprise.

She swallowed, gripping the phone tighter. "Lucas. I need your help."

There was a pause on the line. "Where are you?"

"In a police cell," she said, her voice shaking despite herself. "I'm being accused of Edward's murder."

A soft exhale on the other end. "Edward's dead?"

"Yes." Sophie's throat tightened. "I didn't do it, Lucas. But no one will fight for me. No one-" Her voice cracked. "Please."

Another pause, heavier this time. "I'll come see you."

***

Lucas was the same, tall, impeccably dressed, with a sharp gaze that seemed to cut through everything it landed on. When Sophie was brought to meet him in the visitor's room, she felt a small spark of relief for the first time in days.

"Sophie," he said, sitting down across from her. His expression was unreadable, but his tone held a note of something softer.

"You came," she said quietly.

"I owe you."

The memory lingered between them unspoken. Years ago, Sophie had saved him. He was a man with many friends and even more enemies. But Sophie, Sophie had stepped in when no one else would.

"And now you're here," Lucas said, looking at her intently. "Accused of murder. Edward Flynn's murder."

"I didn't do it," she said firmly.

"I believe you," Lucas replied without hesitation.

Those words hit her harder than she expected. No one had said that to her yet. Not once.

"But," he continued, "you're in deeper than you realize. The police aren't just looking for the truth-they're looking for a quick win. And Edward... Edward's name still carries weight."

Sophie lowered her head, staring at the scratched tabletop. "I know."

"What about your family?" Lucas asked.

Her head shot up, eyes filled with pain. "They're not an option."

He leaned back slightly, waiting.

"When I married Edward, my mother told me to choose-him or them," she said, her voice raw. "I chose him."

"And they never forgave you."

Sophie nodded. "They won't help me now, Lucas."

He studied her for a moment, then exhaled through his nose, as though already calculating the moves ahead. "Fine. Then I'll help."

"You will?" Sophie's voice trembled with relief.

He smirked faintly. "I'm not in the habit of abandoning friends. Besides, it'll take more than Edward Flynn's name to scare me."

That night, as Sophie sat back in her cell, she felt the smallest flicker of hope.

Lucas was powerful, connected, and unshakable. If anyone could fight for her, it was him. But beneath the hope lingered something darker, something unsettling.

Who killed Edward?

She closed her eyes, replaying every moment of the past week. The empty house. The silence. The way everyone had looked at her without answering her questions.

Someone had set her up.

And whoever it was knew exactly how to bury her alive.

***

Lucas sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly. The weight of what he had just promised Sophie pressed on him. He couldn't shake the image of her, defeated but holding on, clutching the sliver of hope he'd just handed her.

His phone buzzed beside him. With a quick glance, he picked it up, scrolling through his contacts until he found the name he needed. The screen flashed as he hit Call.

The line rang twice before a low, measured voice answered, "Lucas. Didn't expect to hear from you so soon."

Lucas didn't waste time. "I need your help. It's urgent."

A pause. "What's the case?"

"It's a murder charge." Lucas swallowed hard, his voice steady despite the knot in his chest. "Edward Flynn."

Another beat of silence. Then, the voice said cautiously, "Flynn? That's not just any case. You're treading dangerous ground, Lucas."

"I know," Lucas replied quickly. "But I need you to fight this one. It's really important. Please."

"Why? What's the angle?"

"It's... personal." His voice wavered, but only for a moment. "You don't need the details. I just need you to take this case."

"You're asking me to go against the system for you."

"Yes," Lucas admitted. "And I'll do whatever you ask of me in return. Whatever it takes."

The man, on the other end, exhaled sharply, clearly weighing his options. "You're putting me in a tight spot, Lucas."

"I know," he said again, this time with more desperation. "But you've done it before. Just this once-please. Help me with this."

There was a long pause, broken only by the distant sound of traffic on the line. Finally, the voice said, "Fine. We'll meet tomorrow. Noon. Don't be late."

Lucas closed his eyes, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." The voice turned sharp.

"Ok."

"Good. And Lucas?"

"Yeah?"

"Make sure this is worth it."

The call ended with a sharp click, leaving Lucas in silence once more. He dropped the phone onto the passenger seat, running a hand down his face. The stakes were higher than ever, but there was no turning back now.

Tomorrow, the fight would begin.