All That Went Unsaid | Complete (18+)

Chapter 34

Sophie Esinberg's POV

Avery caught my eye from the kitchen for the third time, her hand hovering mid–thumbs-up like she was afraid to lower it. She stood near the counter, pretending to wipe down a spotless surface, but her worried gaze kept flicking back to me.

I gave her the smallest nod of reassurance I could manage. Not a lie, exactly. 

Then I turned back to Sharon.

"You've been ignoring my calls," she snapped, arms crossed tight over her chest, frustration radiating off her in sharp, impatient waves. "And now you're not even listening."

"I am listening," I said calmly, though my jaw ached from how tightly I was holding it together.

The truth was—I had been ignoring her calls. Deliberately. Not just because Raymond had been crystal clear about what he thought of her plan—shit had been the polite version—but because there was nothing left to discuss. There was no version of this reality where I convinced Raymond to bend. And there were fires burning far closer to my skin.

Never, in my most unhinged imagination, had I expected Sharon West to show up at my house and start pacing my living room like a general surveying a battlefield—rambling about optics and damage control and how I needed to push Raymond to "handle" the situation.

"No, you're not!" Sharon said, throwing her hands up. "Sophie, I don't think you understand how grave this is. You have to convince Raymond before he does something stupid."

A laugh escaped me—sharp, incredulous, more bark than sound.

Raymond. And stupid.

Those two words didn't belong in the same universe, let alone the same sentence.

I leaned back slightly, crossing my arms, grounding myself. Raymond wasn't reckless, not anymore. He wasn't impulsive. He didn't stumble through life knocking things over and calling it fate. He built his path—methodical, intentional, brick by brick. Not just for himself, but for the people around him. He thought ten moves ahead, anticipated consequences, carried responsibility like second nature.

Brilliant, yes. Clever when he needed to be. Careless? Never.

Maybe he had learned how to protect himself over the years—how to draw lines and guard them fiercely—but he had never used his intelligence to hurt someone else.

I met Sharon's gaze, my voice steady even though exhaustion weighed heavy in my bones.

"It's Raymond we're talking about," I said. "He's not going to do anything stupid. Have a little faith, Sharon. You don't give him enough credit."

Her lips pressed together, displeasure flickering across her face. But I was too tired to care.

Today had already wrung me dry. Investors had walked away like I was radioactive. My carefully constructed world had tilted on its axis this morning, old wounds split open by memories I'd spent years surviving. And now this—this relentless pressure, this insistence that I had to convince Raymond to let the world think that we are not together.

It was barely three in the afternoon, and I felt like I'd lived three lifetimes already.

A laugh slipped from Sharon's lips—but it wasn't real. It was sharp and hollow, the kind of sound meant to sting rather than amuse. It scraped against my nerves like glass. She tilted her head, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow lifting as if she were studying a child who had just said something unbearably naïve.

"You really think so?" she asked, her tone laced with quiet mockery.

I didn't rise to it. I just looked at her, expression flat, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.