All Chapters of Playing Mrs. Beckett: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

By the time she arrived at home, the sun had already set. Sophie sighed, soaking herself in a warm bath. She needed to clean everything—everything Adrian touched, every memory that had been tainted. With the last rinse, the look in her eyes shifted. Gone was the meek, agreeable, and modest Mrs. Beckett. From now on, she was just Sophie.She whisked up a quick meal—some pasta with ready-made sauce—and made herself a pot of tea. Then, she locked herself in her study, reading. She no longer cared how long the time went by.The front door opened with a loud bang. Sophie didn’t bother lifting her head from her book—she already knew what would happen. Adrian would walk with hurried footsteps, scrambling to look for Sophie. Then he would start his speech, about how she misunderstood, or was dramatic, or making things into something they weren't. Sophie reached for her

Gone. She was gone. Adrian's breath grew heavy as he stared at the empty parking space. Her Volvo was gone. She rarely drove it. Wherever she went, she went with him.“It’s only right if I’m with you,” she had said. Yet now, she left. So decisively at that. No turning backs, not even giving him a chance to speak.Where did he go wrong? He had been careful. The penthouse and the office were two separate worlds. Sophie never involved herself in company matters. Julia understood discretion better than anyone. Everything had been under control. Should be. What the heck made it fall apart? Sophie loved him. All her words, her smiles, the late-night greetings she offered spoke of complete trust. So why was she talking about divorce?Adrian reached for his phone to call S

For the first time in a while, Sophie woke up to see the sun already high in the sky. She walked over to a full body mirror and saw her own reflection, laughing at the sight. She was all over the place. Her eyes red and puffy, bed hair nestled on her head. Mrs. Beckett would have been horrified.But not Sophie—she was free.After a long, hot shower, she walked to the kitchen. Edmund said he stocked up after she first contacted him, asking for a lawyer. Now in the pantry were some oatmeal and canned things, in the fridge some juices, frozen fruit, vegetables, and meat.She whipped up an easy salad—just some microwaved frozen veggies—and topped it with canned tuna, adding a dollop of thousand island dressings. Along with a big glass of cranberry juice, she enjoyed her hearty, very late breakfast.

Sophie came out of Lawrence and Associates office with light steps. She spotted the red Lambo—totally not a hard thing to do, opening the passenger side of the door and sitting wordlessly. Oliver, who was on the phone just a moment ago, immediately assumed a straight posture, hands ready at the steering wheel.“Where should we go now, ma’am?” he said playfully.“I don’t know. I’m in a good mood. Where should we go?” she asked, putting the seatbelt on.“Well, you’re the New Yorker! You pick.”Sophie went silent for a moment, thinking. “Are you hungry? It’s time for lunch, right?”“I actually am,” Oliver nodded. “So, lunch?”“Lunch,” Sophie nodded back. “I’ll set the destination,” s

“Someone is looking into you.”The moment Sophie picked up the call from her investigators, they wasted no time to report. Sophie nodded, like everything was as she had expected.“Wise move,” she commented.“They’re looking into your background and bank accounts, but so far they’ve only touched things after your admission to Stanford. It seems they couldn’t uncover anything beyond that.”“Interesting,” she smiled. “Do you know who did it?”A rhetorical question. Of course Sophie knew who did it. He couldn’t dig up anything beyond Stanford because at that time, he was nobody. Just an aspiring entrepreneur juggling university and work. Sophie, h