Page 110 of Under Southern Stars
“No.” She shakes her head slowly. “You don’t. Because trust requires honesty, Jack. It requires vulnerability. You were so afraid I’d see your wealth instead of you that you never gave me the chance to prove I could see both.”
Each word lands like a physical blow, because she is right. About all of it.
“I’ve spent years rebuilding myself after Troy,” she continues, her voice dropping to near a whisper. “Learning to trust my judgment again. Believing that I deserved better than what he gave me.”
She pauses, the silence heavy between us. When she speaks again, her voice has changed, becoming both stronger and more vulnerable.
“Troy used to tell me that women were ‘built for sex and silence.’ That the only time I had real value was when I was on my knees or on my back.” Her eyes lock with mine, unflinching despite the tears now flowing freely. “And for years, I let him convince me that was normal. That being wanted meant being used.”
A sickness rises in my throat. I’d known Troy was toxic, but this…
“And then you showed up,” she continues. “You made me feel like I was more. Like I was worth something.” Her voice breaks on the word. “You didn’t just lie, Jack. You made me feel safe again. And that was worse.”
The full weight of what I’d done crashes down on me with devastating clarity. I’d known about Troy’s financial manipulation, his condescension, his control. But I hadn’t known about this deeper degradation. And in my fear of rejection, I’d reinforced the lesson her ex had taught her—that she couldn’t trust her own judgment. That the men she chose would inevitably betray her.
“Sophia,” I whisper, my own tears falling now. “I never meant—”
“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” she says, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “That’s what makes it so painful. You did this with good intentions. You convinced yourself you were protecting me, protecting us. Just like Troy convinced himself his control was ‘for my own good.’”
“I am nothing like him,” I say, the words strangled with emotion.
“No, you’re not,” she agrees. “But the effect is the same. I trusted you. I opened myself to you. I let you into my life, into Madison’s life. And now I’m standing here questioning every moment we shared, wondering what was real and what was carefully edited.”
She moves toward the door, then pauses, not looking back at me. “Madison and I will stay until our return flight next week. I won’t punish her by cutting this trip short. She’s already excited about coming here, and Emma’s rugby lessons, and I won’t take that away from her.”
“I understand,” I manage.
“We’ll stay in the guest house. You can stay…wherever you actually live here. But I need space, Jack. A lot of it.”
“Of course. Whatever you need.”
She nods once, still facing away. “You know what the worst part is? Despite everything, there’s a part of me that still…” She takes a deep breath. “A part of me that wishes I could just forget all this and go back to how things were. How pathetic is that?”
Before I can respond, she steps through the doorway, pausing one last time. “Goodnight,Jackson.”
The emphasis on my full name—a name she’d never used before—is the final twist of the knife. She disappears down the hallway, her footsteps fading until only silence remains.
I sink onto a nearby bench, the full weight of what I’d lost crushing the air from my lungs. The tears I’d managed to control in front of Sophia now come in earnest, my body shaking with silent sobs.
Not just for the relationship I’d destroyed with my cowardice, but for what Sophia had endured before me. For the woman who’d survived Troy’s degradation only to have her hard-won trust shattered by my deception. For the chance I’d destroyed to be the man she deserved.
I don’t know how long I sit there, broken open in the entrance hall of my family home. Long enough that the tears eventually subside, leaving behind a hollow clarity. I have done this. No excuses, no justifications. Just my own fear and insecurity.
And somehow, if she would allow it, I have to find a way to make it right.
Not to win her back—I have no right to expect that. But to show her that her judgment hadn’t failed her. That the man she’d fallen for is real, even if his circumstances aren’t what she’d believed.
I owe her that much. Even if it is the last thing I ever give her.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
SOPHIA
“Goodnight,Jackson.”
The words hang in the air as I turn and walk away, not allowing myself to look back. I can feel his pain radiating behind me like a physical force, and a part of me…a small, vindictive part I’m not proud of…savors it. He deserves to hurt, at least a fraction of how much I’m hurting.
The cruelty of deliberately using his full name—that formal, unfamiliar name that represents the stranger he really was—has been calculated. I’d wanted to wound him, to pierce that smooth composure, to make him feel the rupture between us. Based on the stricken look that had flashed across his face, I’d succeeded.
