SIX
CHAPTER 6
“Mummy, please don’t send me back to live with Daddy! Please! They’re all so mean to me. I don’t want to go there again. I want to stay with you. He doesn’t love me anymore. I hate him—I hate him and I never ever want to talk to him again!”
Her cries broke something in Isabelle’s chest. She cradled her daughter as if she could shield her from all the cruelty in the world.
But Nic just stood there, rigid, jaw clenched, eyes unreadable—as if love were discipline, as if fear were respect.
Tears slipped silently down Isabelle’s cheeks as she held her daughter close, pressing a kiss to her damp hair. It had finally happened.
No matter how much she had tried to shield Sophie… in the end, they had both met the same fate.
Nic hadn’t just pushed Isabelle out of his life—he’d broken his bond with his daughter, too. And the worst part? He didn’t even see it until it was too late.
She turned slowly to face the stone-faced matriarch standing near the door—but to her surprise, Callista’s face had gone pale, her haughty expression melted into something resembling shock as she stared at her granddaughter’s tear-streaked, furious face.
Isabelle’s voice trembled, but her rage poured through every word like fire through cracked porcelain.
“Congratulations, Kyria Demetriou,” she said bitterly. “You finally got what you wanted.” Her throat tightened. “Now both of us—my daughter and I—will be out of your precious son’s life forever.”
Any other time, the older woman would have spat fire and fury at Isabelle for daring to speak like that. But not today. Not after the eruption they had just witnessed.
Sophia’s sobs were still shaking her small frame, her face buried in her mother’s chest, when Nic took a step forward, a hollow look in his eyes like someone who had just been hit by a truck and didn’t know where the road was anymore.
“Sophie…” he choked out, voice raw. “Baby, come here. Let Papa hold you.”
He reached out, arms trembling, but the moment his hands neared her, Sophie thrashed—wild, primal, feral. She kicked, she screamed, she struck his chest with tiny fists, desperation pouring out like a dam breaking.
“Don’t touch me!” she screamed. “I HATE YOU! I hate Daphne and I hate nonna too! They say bad things about my mummy! Every day!”
The words hit Nic like blows. His face crumpled—half shock, half grief—but still, that thin line of arrogant disbelief hovered in his eyes, like he couldn’t believe he was the one being hated.
“Sophie,” he whispered, stunned, “I… I love you. Your papa loves you.”
But she didn’t even lift her head. She sobbed harder into Isabelle’s hospital gown, her little fists curling tightly into the fabric.
“No. You don’t. Daphne said you don’t love me.” Her voice cracked as she confessed the one truth that had shattered her. “She said… when she has babies, you will love them… not me. So go. I don’t want you. I want my mummy. Only she loves me!”
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Isabelle hadn’t even noticed she was crying until her breath caught in her throat. Her baby had been carrying this? This deep, blistering wound that no one had noticed?
Nic staggered back half a step. “That’s not true—”
“Enough.” Isabelle’s voice sliced through the air like a blade.
Callista had just opened her mouth—no doubt to call Sophie a liar, to protect her son, to twist the narrative once again—but Isabelle wouldn’t let it happen.
“Get out. Get out! I don’t want either of you upsetting my daughter again. Not another word. Take your toxic mother and your lying fiancée and get. Out.”
Callista turned an angry shade of red. She stepped forward, jaw tight with a venomous comeback ready on her tongue.
But Nic held out a hand.
“Let’s go, Mother.” His voice was hollow. “Isabelle’s right… Sophie is too upset. We’ll… we’ll talk to her later.”
He turned to look at his daughter one last time. Her small body was still shaking with grief in Isabelle’s arms, her face hidden, her spirit raw.
“Sophie,” he whispered, brokenly. “Papa is leaving now. I’ll come see you in the evening, okay?”
But as he reached to brush her hair, her little hand smacked his away.
“No,” she spat, eyes red and furious now as she finally looked at him. “You will not see me. I HATE YOU!”
The words were like a gunshot. If they could’ve killed, Nic would have dropped dead right there in that hospital room. He staggered back as if her tiny voice had stabbed through his chest.
He stared at her—pale, silent, stunned—and for the first time, no excuses came. No explanations. Just… emptiness.
Then, without another word, Nickolous Demetriou turned and walked away.
His mother followed, but not without a backward glance—one of disbelief, confusion, and, perhaps, a tiny sliver of regret.
The door had barely clicked shut when Isabelle heard it—the sharp hiss of Callista Demetriou’s voice outside, rising with urgency, thick with poison.
“It’s that woman,” she snapped. “She’s the one filling Sophia’s head with lies and nonsense. Your daughter adores you, Nickolous. You know she does.”
There was no pause. No time to grieve what had just happened.
“I warned you from the beginning—should’ve filed for sole custody the moment she was born. She’s a Dimetriou, not some street rat Isabelle dragged into her petty life. She belongs under our roof, in our hands. I could straighten her out. That child is spoiled now, yes—but give her to me, and I’ll make her your perfect little girl. Just wait till she’s in Greece with us. You’ll see.”
Isabelle didn’t move.
She simply stared at the ceiling, arms wrapped protectively around her trembling daughter, her fingers brushing through Sophie’s hair as the girl finally drifted into tearful exhaustion.
She blinked slowly, once, twice—fighting back her own flood of grief—before closing her eyes and letting the words outside dig into her like ice.
Her hands tightened around Sophie’s small back. There it was. The threat. The war cry.
They were going to take her baby. Rip her away. Break her spirit and mold her into something she wasn’t—obedient, polished, and hollow. Just like Nic had become. Just like Callista wanted everyone to be.
A sharp breath escaped Isabelle’s lips as she clenched her jaw, willing herself not to cry again. She couldn’t afford to.
She had been through many battles with Nic… but this?
This was war.
And this time, she wasn’t just fighting for herself.
She was fighting for her child.