Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 258

Claire's POV

I followed slowly, keeping my distance.

The stairwell was empty when I pushed through the door. Sophia stood on the landing, one hand on the railing, the other still resting protectively over her abdomen.

"Sophia," I said softly.

She whipped around, her eyes widening. "What the hell are you doing here? I told you to leave."

I kept my expression soft, apologetic. My eyes flickered briefly to where her hand rested on her stomach.

"I came to talk to you. Please—just give me a few minutes."

"No." She started to move past me, but I stepped into her path, positioning myself near the stairwell entrance.

"Sophia, please. I know you hate me, but—"

"Get out of my way, Claire." Her voice was low, dangerous.

"I just want to apologize." I lowered my voice. "Can we at least talk somewhere private? Not out here in the hallway?"

Her laugh was sharp and bitter. "You think I'm stupid enough to go anywhere with you? No way."

She crossed her arms, though I noticed she kept one hand positioned defensively over her abdomen. "Fine. Say what you came to say. Right here. You've got two minutes."

I took another step closer to her—and closer to the stairs behind us.

"I know you think I'm the enemy," I said softly. "But I'm not. I just want what's best for Lucas."

"Cut the bullshit, Claire." Sophia's voice was ice. "You didn't come here to apologize. So what do you want?"

I let my mask slip, just a fraction. Let my eyes drop deliberately to where her hand rested on her stomach. "I want you to stop pretending you matter to him."

Her eyes flashed. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." I took another step, forcing her to back up slightly—closer to the stairs. My gaze remained fixed on her midsection. "You think he cares about you? You think that changes anything?"

I watched her hand press more firmly against her stomach, saw the flicker of fear cross her face.

She knew I knew.

"So what?" she asked, but her voice had lost some of its earlier confidence.

"But you want to know the truth?" I continued, my voice dropping to a whisper. "I knew about your mother's condition. The asthma. The anxiety. How fragile she is."

Sophia went very still.

"I knew exactly what that video would do to her when I sent it." I watched the color drain from her face. "And Lucas still chose to protect me. When it really mattered, he knew exactly who to choose."

"You're insane," Sophia breathed, her hand moving more protectively over her stomach.

"Maybe." I smiled, my eyes never leaving that defensive gesture. "But I'm the one he's marrying. I'm the one who saved him when he had nothing. And that idiot doesn't even realize what kind of monster he's protecting."

Sophia's hand came up fast—I barely had time to register the movement before her palm connected with my cheek, the crack echoing in the stairwell.

My head snapped to the side, pain blooming across my face.

For a moment, I just stood there, tasting blood where my teeth had cut the inside of my mouth.

Then I looked back at her, and smiled wider.

"Feel better?"

"You bitch—" Sophia grabbed the front of my sweater, shoving me backward.

We were close to the stairs now—I could feel the edge of the landing behind me.

Perfect.

"Let go of me," I said softly.

"No." Her grip tightened, her face inches from mine. "You don't deserve to walk away from this."

"I never planned to just leave like that." I paused, letting my eyes drop deliberately to her stomach one final time. "That thing inside you makes me sick. You really think you can use it to trap him? To become untouchable?"

Her pupils dilated, and all the color drained from her face. Her lips parted slightly, trembling. She took an involuntary step backward, her hand instinctively moving to cradle her stomach more protectively.

And that's when I made my move.

I shifted my weight suddenly, as if losing my balance, my foot hooking behind hers as I stumbled backward. My arms windmilled, reaching for something—anything—to grab onto.

Sophia's instinct kicked in immediately. She lunged forward to catch me, to stop my fall.

But I'd already calculated the angle, the momentum, the exact distribution of our combined weight.

For one suspended moment, we were both off-balance, teetering at the edge of the landing. I could see the confusion flickering across her face, the precise instant her brain registered that something was wrong.

My hand shot out, fingers closing around the metal railing with desperate precision.

But Sophia—

Sophia's foot caught on mine, her center of gravity already committed forward. Her body pitched sideways as she tried to correct, tried to pull back, her arms flailing for purchase that wasn't there.

Her eyes went wide—not just with shock, but with the terrible understanding of what was really happening. What I'd done.

And then she was falling.

Her body tumbled backward down the stairs, hitting the first concrete step with a sickening crack. In that split second of freefall, some primal instinct took over—her hand shot up to cradle the back of her head, while her other hand curved protectively over her stomach.

She bounced—once, twice—her limbs at unnatural angles as gravity dragged her down to the landing below. Her shoulder took the brunt of the second impact, then her hip. Each collision reverberated through the enclosed space like a gunshot.

She came to rest on the landing in a crumpled heap, utterly motionless. One arm was still twisted beneath her, the other still curved protectively over her abdomen. Her hair fanned across the concrete like spilled ink.

And then I saw it.

Dark red spreading across the fabric of her dress, blooming from between her legs like a terrible flower. The stain grew slowly at first, then faster, seeping into the concrete beneath her.

Blood.

So much blood.

I stood there on the landing above, breathing hard, my knuckles white where they gripped the railing. My heart hammered against my ribs, adrenaline singing through my veins.

The baby.

The thought came with cold satisfaction.

No more leverage. No more permanent tie. No more mother-of-his-heir card to play.

Just Sophia, broken and bleeding on the concrete below.

And then I heard it.

Footsteps.

Running.

Fast.

Someone shouted from down the hallway—a man's voice, raw with alarm—and I whipped around to see Lucas sprinting toward me, his face contorted with shock and fury, his eyes locked on the stairwell behind me.

"What the fuck just happened?"