Bellamy’s POV
The call from Adrian came early that morning. His car was in the shop—something about the transmission—and he needed a ride to meet with the wedding planner across town. Could I drive him and Sophie?
I'd almost said no. After the fight with Sophie, after the slap that still burned in my memory, I'd been trying to maintain even more distance than before. But refusing Adrian's direct request would raise questions I couldn't answer.
So here I was, pulling up to their apartment at ten AM, watching Adrian emerge with Sophie and Amelia in tow.
Adrian slid into the passenger seat, already on his phone, his attention immediately consumed by whatever email or message had appeared on his screen. Sophie got in back with Amelia, buckling the car seat in with practiced efficiency.
I pulled out into traffic, hyper-aware of Sophie's presence in the backseat. I could see her in the rearview mirror—staring out the window, her jaw tight, one hand unconsciously stroking Amelia's hair as the baby played with a stuffed toy.
The silence in the car was suffocating. Adrian typed away on his phone, completely oblivious. Sophie's tension was palpable even from the front seat. And I kept my eyes on the road, trying to pretend this was just another job, just another drive, nothing more complicated than that.
After about ten minutes, Sophie broke the silence.
"Adrian, we need to finalize the guest list for the wedding planner today. Have you thought about who you want to invite from your side?"
"Hmm?" Adrian didn't look up from his phone. "Whatever you think is best."
Sophie's voice took on an edge. "That's not helpful. I need actual names. Your colleagues from the university, your family, your friends. Who do you want there?"
"Just send me a list and I'll approve it," Adrian said, still typing.
"Adrian." Sophie's frustration was clear now. "Can you put the phone down for two seconds? We need to make these decisions together."
"I'm handling something important right now," Adrian replied, his own irritation creeping in. "Can we talk about this later?"
"We've been saying 'later' for three weeks," Sophie said, her voice rising slightly. "The planner needs final numbers. We need to send invitations. This is our wedding, Adrian. Can you at least pretend to care about the planning?"
Adrian finally looked up from his phone, turning in his seat to face her. "I do care. I'm just dealing with other things right now—important things that are protecting our future."
"Important things," Sophie repeated, and something in her tone made my hands tighten on the steering wheel. "Important things like the blackmail investigation you and Lolita have been working on together?"
The car felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out. Adrian went completely still.
"What?" His voice was carefully controlled.
"I overheard you," Sophie said, her voice cold and steady. "At her estate. The letters, the lawyer, your private arrangement to have Lisette declared incompetent. Were you ever going to tell me?"
I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Adrian's face—shock warring with guilt and something like panic.
"Sophie, I can explain."
"Can you?" she interrupted. "Because it looks like you were keeping secrets again. Like always. Making decisions about our lives without me, handling things behind my back because you think I can't handle the truth."
"That's not what I was doing," Adrian protested, twisting further in his seat. "I was trying to protect you. Keeping you out of it so you wouldn't have to worry about…"
"Bullshit," Sophie cut him off. "You were keeping secrets because that's what you do, Adrian. You lie, you hide things, you make unilateral decisions and then justify it by claiming you're protecting me. When does it stop?"
"This is different."
"Is it? Because it feels exactly the same as every other time you've shut me out."
Adrian's phone rang, cutting through the argument. He glanced at the screen and his face went pale.
"I have to take this," he said.
"Of course you do," Sophie said bitterly.
Adrian answered, listened for a moment, then cursed under his breath. "When? Where? Okay. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
He looked at me. "Bellamy, pull over at the next corner."
"What about the wedding planner?" Sophie asked.
"I'm sorry, I have to handle this. Right now." Adrian's voice was tight with stress. "It's urgent. We'll reschedule."
I pulled to the curb. A black car was already waiting—someone Adrian must have called while he was on the phone. He reached for the door handle, then hesitated and turned back to Sophie.
"We'll talk tonight," he said, leaning toward her. "I promise. I'll explain everything."
He tried to kiss her goodbye, but Sophie turned her head sharply away. His lips caught only air and a strand of her hair. Adrian's hand dropped, his expression crumbling for just a second before he masked it.
"Tonight," he repeated quietly, then got out of the car and disappeared into the waiting vehicle.
I pulled back into traffic, the silence now even heavier than before. I could feel Sophie's anger and hurt radiating from the backseat, could see her blinking back tears in the rearview mirror while she focused intently on Amelia.
After several blocks, I couldn't keep quiet anymore.
"He's always going to be like this," I said quietly. "Keeping secrets, handling things alone, shutting you out when things get complicated. No wedding ring changes who someone fundamentally is, Sophie."
Her eyes met mine in the mirror, and the look she gave me was sharp enough to cut.
"And you're apparently no better," she said coldly. "I know you've been working with him on the blackmail investigation. So spare me the moral high ground, Bellamy."
The accusation hit harder than I expected. She was right—I had been helping Adrian track down the blackmailer, had been complicit in keeping her in the dark.
Before I could respond, before I could try to explain that I'd been trying to protect her too, Sophie unbuckled her seatbelt.
"Stop the car," she said.
"Sophie."
"Stop. The. Car."
I glanced around, realized we were only a few blocks from Derek's house. I pulled over to the curb.
Sophie was already gathering Amelia and the diaper bag, moving with sharp, efficient movements fueled by anger.
"Sophie, wait," I tried. "Let me at least drive you the rest of the way!"
"I'll walk from here," she said, opening the door. "I need the air. And I need to not be in a car with another man who thinks he knows what's best for me without bothering to ask what I actually want."
She got out, carefully adjusting Amelia on her hip. I started to get out too, to try to help with the bags at least, but the look she gave me stopped me cold.
"Don't," she said simply.
Then she slammed the door and walked away, her spine straight despite the weight of the baby and the bag, heading toward her father's house without looking back.
I sat there in the driver's seat, watching her disappear down the sidewalk, and the realization hit me like a physical blow.
I'd lost her.
Not once, but twice. The first time when I kissed her and made everything complicated. The second time just now, when she realized I'd been just as complicit in keeping secrets as Adrian was.
I'd positioned myself as the alternative, the honest one, the man who saw her clearly when Adrian was too blind.
But I'd been lying by omission just as much as he had. Working with Adrian behind her back, keeping information from her "for her own good," making decisions about what she should and shouldn't know.
I was no better than Adrian. Maybe worse, because I'd pretended to be.
I pulled away from the curb slowly, glancing one more time in the rearview mirror. Sophie was almost at the end of the block now, Amelia's head resting on her shoulder, both of them moving further and further away from me.