Page 63 of Brutal Truths

Sofia

My sweet Isabel, where do I begin?

In a few hours, our lives will forever change. Your father, King Ramon, will be gone. When the truth comes out, I’ll be arrested.

What weighs on me most is not what will happen to me, but what I will miss. I won’t be here to watch you grow, to see the woman you become.

I’m sorry for that. But I did what I believe needed to be done.

Please don’t blame Antonio for what becomes of me. People will shape the story to fit their own understanding. They will call me selfish. Say I acted out of jealousy, that Ramon’s infidelity drove me to this.

They are mistaken.

The truth behind my actions is beyond their understanding because they have never heard the story in full.

You will, though. When you’re old enough to understand, many years from now, you’ll read this and finally know the truth. Hopefully, you won’t hate me for it when that time arrives. I trust your siblings did what I expected, making sure you grew up knowing both of your parents loved you, despite the way we left you.

I am deeply sorry for that. If there had been another option, I’d have taken it. Perhaps there was, but my fear for you overshadowed everything else. It may not make sense now, but hopefully it will after you’ve read this.

The best way to explain is to start from the beginning. So, bear with me while I take you back to my life before you came along.

I was just a teenager when it started. I befriended a man whose father led one of London’s most notorious crime families. Your grandfather disapproved of our friendship and made his position clear. He urged me to end it and warned that if I did not, I would no longer be welcome in his life.

As you might imagine, that only fueled my rebellion. It made me want to see just how far I could push him.

I took our friendship one step farther and began seeing him behind my father’s back. He treated me with more kindness and respect than any of the young men your grandfather tried pairing me with. Before I knew it, I was falling for him.

When his father learned about us, he sent him away, claiming it was to prepare him for his place in the family business. I never had proof, but knew my father had interfered. His satisfaction was unmistakable. The way he carried himself from then on made it obvious he got what he was after.

With him gone, I was pulled back into the life expected of me. The obligations returned, along with the endless introductions to men I had no interest in knowing. My father believed he could shape my future, but by then I had grown more resolute. No longer a defiant teenager, but a stubborn young woman. None of those men mattered to me. I only wanted one man, even if I wasn’t certain he felt the same.

While attending an art auction, I came face to face with my lover’s father. Upset, I confronted him, without hesitation, angry and unwilling to hold my tongue. I accused him of interfering in my relationship with his son. It was done out of hatred. I knew what I once had couldn’t be salvaged.

I made a scene. As a scorned woman, I was enraged, reckless, and unconcerned with the attention I drew as I challenged a man everyone in the room feared. Everyone but me.

To save me from myself, he dragged me out of there, but removing me from the room did little to quiet me. I continued, refusing to be dismissed or ignored.

What followed is not easily explained. It was unexpected, even for him.

Alone in a dark hallway, he stared down at me, looking as fierce as I’d seen any man look. It should have frightened me, but it did not. There was no threat of violence in his gaze. No intention to punish me for the spectacle I’d made. If anything, there was something else there. Something out of our control.

He ordered me to go home. To walk away before he did something we would both regret.

Of course, I didn’t listen. I dared him instead.

That was the night my life changed forever. The moment he kissed me, all thoughts of his son disappeared. The connection between us was immediate and undeniable. This was a passion I’d never known.

In the beginning, I tried to dismiss it. Told myself it was nothing more than the thrill of something forbidden, a fleeting indulgence I would soon forget. But I was wrong. It only lasted a few months but felt like so much more.

He ended it in the coldest way imaginable. Showed up to a function he knew I’d be attending, one I was excited about, because he’d be there. He walked in with another woman on his arm.

The message was clear. I didn’t wait for him to say the words. I left before he could rip my heart from my chest.

Heartbroken, I fell into a deep depression and stopped caring about what I did or who I allowed into my life. That’s how I became involved with a man closer to my age.

At first, it was nothing more than a distraction. A way to escape the pain of rejection and convince myself I could move on.

He did not see it that way.