Sofia gasped, her eyes opened wide, and all she could see was blurry light. She shot up to a sitting position with her breaths coming out in frantic gasps. Blinking rapidly, she adjusted her sight to the daylight. All kinds of aches shot throughout her body along with the knowledge that it had been a nightmare.

A long breath of relief left her mouth as she dropped her head into her palms. She kept repeating to herself that Max had saved her, that she was alright.

No matter he couldn't save her in the past.

After all, it was her own cross to bear that she had been too stupid to have not done more to improve things, to do something more that could have stopped things once and for all.

Her own cowardice was her doom.

A soft knock at the door made her look up, Skyler walked in afterward. "Sofia, why are you still in bed? Mom's been berserk that you didn't make breakfast this morning. Can you believe the woman's audacity! It's only because you made me promise I didn't deliver her a mouthful of suggestions like—doing some work herself." Skyler was literally bouncing in agitation but she stilled suddenly, a frown appearing on her forehead.

"You look like death has warmed up on you," Skyler said, leaning in to get a better look.

Sofia looked down at herself to see she was covered with the sheet till her neck, she sighed in relief. Skyler didn't see the bruises. But then Sofia frowned.

It was possible that unluckily a bruise or two had formed on her face as well.

"Skyler, it's just... I...," she began stammering out an explanation but Skyler cut in.

"Oh god, you have dark circles," Skyler shook her head incredulously. "Now that you're going to get married soon, you must have your beauty sleeps like a sacred routine. And you need to go to a spa. Otherwise, you'll look like a zombie on a crack in the photographs."

Sofia sagged back and let herself breathe. It was just dark circles.

Far greater concerns were looming over her head and these mere dark circles didn't stand a chance in front of them.

"Trust me, Skyler," Sofia said from the bed. "I've other far more important things to do than fuss over my decaying beauty."

Skyler huffed. "You're really something, sis. For a bride to a Wilder heir, you're behaving the exact opposite of how you should be."

"And for being a sister of the bride, you're behaving like a buzzing fly flapping its wings about my ear," Sofia rolled her eyes playfully. "Now, leave me and my dark circles alone, girl. By the way, don't you've school today?"

"Er—no," Skyler replied, looking away.

Sofia stared at Skyler for a long moment before narrowing her eyes. "You bunked again, didn't you?"

That got Skyler really squirming. She threw her hands up, at last, seeing she'd been caught. "Okay, alright I did it. But Max's aunt Katherine and her daughter-in-law...what's her name—oh yes—Lolo... they are soon going to be here. They said they're going to take you shopping for the wedding. Dress and shoes and all that...," Skyler explained, her eyes turned pleading. "Let me tag along, sis, pretty please."

Sofia looked taken aback. "I won't take any more of their money, Skyler."

Skyler looked flabbergasted, she clearly couldn't see the point. "Why? I mean, they're going to be your in-laws."

Sofia sighed, grabbing the shawl resting beside her pillow. She shook the shawl to unfold it. Now, wrapping it around the body while having the sheets tucked under the chin and neck was a very difficult—tricky thing to do, but she managed it somehow and while knowing she might be looking silly.

"Skyler, I don't want to talk about this. I need to get ready and go to work now. I'll call Katherine or Lolo, and tell them what I need to," Sofia stated firmly.

She hoped that Skyler would leave now. Because gaining a raging headache the first thing in the morning was the last thing she hoped for.

The topic of her wedding was the subject she liked to avoid at all costs. It was already dreadful enough carrying the dead weight knowledge that this wedding in reality was the ritual of diminishing her self-respect, where she would gain one million in return for selling herself.

Seeing Sofia's mood, Skyler left after that, muttering to herself.

Sofia encountered Marla when she came downstairs later.

"You're sabotaging your wedding preparations, niece," her aunt spit out.

Because Sofia had no time for excess drama, she countered, "It's not your wedding. So get over it, aunt, and attend the sessions at the rehab center regularly. I've apparently paid for the next month in advance."

Marla looked like she wanted to bite Sofia's head off which Sofia ignored and went out the door.

Her aunt had been very vocal about her dislike of attending these sessions, she'd already attended two and was behaving like she'd been going there for months.

The way to deliverance from addiction wasn't supposed to be easy. Sofia understood that, only if Marla did the same too.

But the rein of how others are going to function in the world was not in Sofia's hands. In fact, recently it was like she had lost all control of her own life as well. Just like a puppet in a very merciless fate's clutch she was dancing to a sinister tune.

Speaking of dancing, Sofia was shell shocked when she walked into the kitchen of her diner. The sight before her rendered her speechless for a couple of moments. There, except for a couple of her servers at the tables outside, all her staff stood in a circle near the counter, and in the center, Simmy was shaking her hips with a grin beaming on her face. Some high-beat songs blared from a phone on the counter and others were, too, tapping their feet along with the manipulative music.

Sofia frowned. Everyone was so engrossed in Simmy and the music and their own jolly moods, that they didn't notice Sofia striding down towards them. The limp in her steps, now lesser than last night, failed to subside the fierceness of her characteristic.

To grab everybody's attention, Sofia clapped her hands.

All movements ceased, and the women turned around, their smiles and excitement, however, still lingered on their lips.

It took Simmy a moment to grab her phone and punch the music shut.

"What's going on here?" Sofia asked with all seriousness, crossing her arms across her chest.

She felt light perspiration matting her skin everywhere—the very expected consequence of having herself covered from neck to ankles in a dress code that screamed winter, when it was actually the opposite. But she discerned while getting ready for work this morning that she didn't have any other option, the purpose of hiding the bruises and scars from last night demanded it.

And so, here she was, in a white, long-sleeve button-down shirt with black little polka dots all over. She'd matched it with a pair of black pants and the comfiest flip-flop to give rest to the injury on her foot. It was a lot dark on her today, she believed this was because of the duskiness from last night's nightmares—both lived in her wake and in sleep.

Simmy walked through the small crowd of ladies to come nearer to Sofia. "Dance practice," Simmy said in a duh tone as if it was natural to do that during work hours.

Sofia looked incredulous. "For what?"

"Oh." Simmy suddenly looked so giddy. "We thought that we'll perform something at your wedding reception."

After a small pause of confusion, Sofia asked, "Who told you?"

Simmy tried scowling at the question. "Your aunt. Seeing that you're late today I tried to call you but you never picked up, so I called your house phone." Taking a breath of exasperation she continued, "It's true I hate your aunt, Sofia, there's no question about it, but thank God she told us about your wedding otherwise we would have never known."

Sofia pursed her lips. "It all happened way too fast."

Simmy snorted.

Sofia inhaled a deep breath, asking for patience from heaven if any existed. "And it still has got some time, even the date has not been fixed yet. So everyone, chill and go back to work. I don't want to see any more dance practicing during work hours."

When she turned around dismissing the sullen-looking women, especially Simmy, she thought she heard someone calling her grand Hitler. Not the first time she had heard that though, hence ignoring it she went into her tiny office and drowned herself in work for the rest of the day.

People were spilling into her diner and Sofia had to step up to handle the crowd of hungry people during lunch.

When the rush died down, she took half an hour off to go to the police station which was just a ten minutes drive away. Turned out, Max had already called and briefed them all about what happened. While it assuaged her nerves hugely and even instigated some special treatment at the station, the storm of questions still couldn't be helped. And with each question being answered she found herself thrust back more and more into the memories of yesterday, into the feeling of disgust recalling Mevil's slimy touch on her, all over her. Flashes of last night's nightmares drilled behind her head, they were no more as strong in daylight but still tormenting enough.

She drove back to Mary's a little dazed. And as soon as she walked in, without giving a moment to herself to think about anything she jumped back into work.

In between all the work though, she tried calling Max, to say a thank you that was still due. But to her much annoyance, he never picked up.

Therefore, in the evening, when her phone rang with Max's name flashing on the screen, she didn't know what to feel—anger, anticipation, or delight.

With a bout of nervousness she picked up the call but before she could even utter a word, Max's coarse tone came through. "Come out of your diner in five minutes, I'm parked outside."

Sofia put down the pen that she was fiddling with in her other hand. "But what—"

The unexpected beep of the call ending had her question stumble to a shocking stop.

Now what?

Max's tone of voice was enough indication that a vicious storm was raging just around the corner. And she had a feeling that it was going to be impossible to avoid this storm. The question was, would she come out of it unscathed?

Dread slowly raised its uncomfortable head, her mind screamed to run for the back door of her diner, and escape like she'd never escaped before. But of course, she did none of that.

Instead, she picked up her phone and her bag and gave Simmy instructions to close the diner earlier tonight after completing the work at hand. And then she walked out the door—the front door.

Confusion and nervousness marred lines on her forehead which she eased deliberately. Because she still had a tad bit of hope that maybe there was actually nothing to worry about. It might just be a silly fit of paranoia.

Max's sleek black Mercedes was parked on the curb. Right next to her antique piece of a white Ambassador, as she compared, his car looked regal and intimidating from all angles. Sofia frowned at the glaring contrast.

She climbed down the few stairs gritting her teeth. It was the uneven places that caused the most discomfort to her injured ankle. But she had her face passive, and her movements unsuspecting as well. No one would even notice her limping if they didn't stare for long.

It's amazing - the ability humans possess of getting used to the pain they go through, after some time the abnormality that comes along with the pain disappears, to an extent, that if someone doesn't look close enough they wouldn't even be able to see it.

And turned out, Max wasn't looking at all—forget looking closely.

When Sofia reached the car and rapped her knuckles on the tinted window, the car door to the passenger side clicked open. Holding the door open, Sofia slid her head in, it hurt to bend her midriff which was covered in swollen bruises now, but she did it anyway. The curiosity and anxiousness were greater than this pain.

Max sat behind the steering wheel, his posture was anything but relaxed. His brows were furrowed and it made that barely noticeable cut across his one eyebrow a distorted mystery. His eyes stared ahead into the windshield, they didn't give away anything other than the red hue underneath that announced unrest. Sofia's eyes trailed down his face to notice his jaw clenched and covered with light stubble.

It was confirmed, something was royally wrong.

"Get in." His tone was still that coarse.

Sofia felt irritated now. Only because she couldn't bear the pain of bending down; awkward and aching anymore, she lowered herself and slid into the passenger seat. She kept the car door open though, in respect of her stubbornness. A silly logic, but it seemed important to her anyway.

Sofia's eyes were trained on Max. "You look like someone has tied a ticking bomb underneath your shirt," she tried lightening the atmosphere that was crackling with so much tension.

But her attempt at a joke did nothing to fulfill the purpose. If anything, Max's shoulders tensed further to the point that Sofia doubted for a second if there really was a bomb.

Max turned his body, leaning over the gap between their seats he grabbed a tabloid from the back seat.

"It's quite alright with me if you want to call it a bomb," Max bit out shoving the tabloid harshly in her hands.

Sofia's eyes widened as they fell on the cover of the tabloid.

There, next to a business magnet's grinning face with a black eye, was a zoomed-in photo of Max and her in front of the Krugs'.

It was taken from an angle that it seemed like they were in a passionate embrace, his coat resting around her body and arms surrounding her. They looked like were absorbed in a sensual kiss, but in truth, Max had just leaned in to play with her hair.

Now, that sounded wrong too. Sofia bit the inside of her cheek.

The caption under their picture said—Another scandalous affair caught on camera. Max Wilder, soon to be director of the country's largest and most prestigious law firm Wilders, exiting The Krugs' while still very much in throes of passion with his lover.

Her voice was shaky as she spoke, "What is this, Max?" She gestured towards the tabloid, with fumbling fingers at the same time flipping through pages to reach the one where the article was written.

Max looked like he was going to burst into fire and ashes. "Apparently, according to the media we're fuc*ing around in secret. The whole city is gossiping about our regular trysts in the five-star hotels. Do you know what people are saying? Do you have any idea what dad said after—" he pointed at the article, "reading that! How shamed he looked while showing me this crap." Max spat.

"He thinks my intentions are to just use you since I've been strongly opposing the ridiculous idea of marrying you," he added looking frustrated as hell.

Sofia had barely read half of the article but she was already feeling dizzy. There were a few more snapshots of Max and her intimate moments after one of their trysts in the hotel. The article described in vivid detail how they couldn't seem to get their hands off of each other. At one point the reporter dramatically put up the suspicion if she was Max Wilder's girlfriend, a casual fling, or a mistress.

Sofia closed her eyes tight, she couldn't read anymore.

"Soon, it will be all over the news. It started right after we exited the Krugs' yesterday, I got the information and left to handle the situation but despite all my efforts," he banged the steering wheel. "It's still gotten out like wildfire."

Max's family already knew. Sofia brainstormed.

But what about her family?

Surely they hadn't come across a business tabloid or she would have gotten phone calls from home. But if it got up on the TV channels now as Max had said, then...

Oh God! No!

"Wh—What... will happen now?" Sofia stuttered out the question, not quite sure about what the answer will be.

But Max would find a way to clear this misunderstanding, she believed, there must be a way.

Her thoughts were interrupted rather rudely as leaning over her in a flash Max slammed shut the car door.

Sofia jumped in surprise.

"What will happen is—your dreams will come true," Max threw her a disgusted look and it hit her straight in the middle of her chest.

He was soon pulling the car out on the street.

"Max," Sofia gasped as the car harshly rounded a turn. "Stop the car. Where are you taking me?"

All her questions and yelling, however, fell on deaf ears. They only got his fists clutch tighter on the wheel and gear.

Sofia was breathing heavily from the insane speed of driving and the tormenting situation fate had put her in.

The tires screeched in protest as the car came to a stop.

Sofia found herself jerking forwards because of the sudden break, her already battered midriff connected to a sharp edge, at that moment she realized she hadn't even had the seatbelts fastened. Although it was true that when far more dire situations were in hand, issues like unfastened seatbelts could hardly stand a chance of being important.

Max was out of the car and striding around to reach her door while she had yet to catch her breath.

She found herself being dragged by her forearm out of the car.

"Max!" She protested. "What the freaking hell are you doing?"

Her eyes fell on the place Max had brought her at.

A magistrate's office!

Max's hand fell from her forearm. He turned to face her, his eyes spitting fire. "It's you who have been doing everything all this time, manipulating people around with your sick games so that you can satisfy your greed. It's you who fed our families the idea of the madness named marriage. You're the one who got the reporters to snap our photos and put them out in the media like that. Mevil was a lucky coincidence, wasn't he?"

Sofia felt her ears burning. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"How could you think like that?" Sofia managed to mumble out somehow. "I've never—" She halted briefly looking at the disgusted look Max was giving her.

She watched how firm and determined he stood in his place.

Would her words be enough to have him budge, to have him see sense? No, it would never be enough.

He was already dead set on not believing her.

"You've got it all wrong, Max. I didn't set up any reporter to do this heinous act. Can't you see that my own dignity is at stake here? What would I even get out of this?"