Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Of all the things to cause her anxiety, Sophie never thought it would be something as simple as a plus sign. And she’d been a straight A student through her entire academic career, ignoring the one C she’d gotten for an Art class in secondary school. That wasn’t her fault. She just wasn’t as artistically talented as some people she knew.

But here she was, panicking over a plus sign. One staring back at her from the middle of the white and purple stick laying on the table in front of her. 

“Shit,” she cursed miserably, letting her head drop onto the table in front of her, and grimacing at the sharp pain that came with her forehead connecting with the hardwood furniture. A sad, pathetic little ‘ow’ slipping from her lips as she moaned. 

She should have stopped after the third test, before she’d decided to shift to a different brand. That, and she wasn’t sure she could drink any more water. She’d down two whole bottles in an effort to get all the tests done. But after the third one’s results, she’d known they would all be the same, that this was not a case of false positives. Each plastic stick would have the same matching, colorful pulse sign on them, confirming what she’d been dreading.

That she was pregnant. 

About eight weeks give or take. If she had to make a guess. 

And now she was struggling to figure out just how and when this had happened. Scratched that. She only needed to figure out when it had happened. She knew damn well how it had happened, and with who, but even then she was confused. They’d always been safe, always made sure to use protection whenever they got a bit more passionate. Hell, she’d been on the pill since she was sixteen. There was nothing more in the world she took more seriously. 

And why wouldn’t she? Her own conception and birth had been one out of wedlock. 

Her parents were not only unmarried when she was conceived but, subsequently, never did. If it hadn’t been for her mother’s untimely death, Sophie probably would never have even met her father. She’d only been thrown back into his life upon her mother’s sudden death, forcing him to step up and be a parent to the child he’d never wanted, the child he’d turned his back on after discovering its existence. And the moment Sophie set foot in his house, five years old and grieving, their relationship had been nothing but an awkward, decade long dance around one another until he himself dropped dead of a heart attack when she was fifteen. Ending any attempt at repairing the distance that had built up between them during his life and leaving Sophie at the mercy of her steprelatives. 

Ever since she’d left that house, she’d spent her life making sure she wouldn't repeat what her parents had done. That she wouldn’t make the same mistakes they had.

And yet, here she was, twenty-two and pregnant. Just like her mother before her.

With the father of her child completely unaware of the life-changing screwball she was about to throw at him. One that was currently the size of a raspberry and peacefully growing inside of her, unaware of the chaos it was causing her. 

All the result of their impulsive and reckless behavior in Paris, now that she thought about it. She should have realized sooner. 

It had been one simple romantic getaway two months ago, the first time they’d ever gone somewhere outside of London together. A getaway where Sophie had gotten very drunk on love (and a lot of French wine) that she couldn’t recall afterwards if they’d used protection on their first night in Paris. And she’d never gotten a chance to confirm it. 

She had no idea how she was going to tell him. Her boyfriend. The father of her dreams. The man of her dreams.

And it didn’t help that they’d only been dating for long. They were still two months away from their one year anniversary, which was not even for their first date but instead the night they’d first met.

No matter what Sophie said, her boyfriend refused to let their first date be the date of their anniversary. 

“ I was in love with you from the moment I saw you. That’s far more important to me than the first time you let me pay for dinner. And far more romantic.”

Sophie would always roll her eyes whenever he said that. Because a Jane Austen trivia night at a pub in Camden was somehow more romantic than a fancy dinner at a three star Michelin restaurant. 

Okay, maybe it was a little bit romantic. 

It had only been by chance that they’d met that night. He’d only ended up there because of a mix up. Apparently, there had been two Jane Austen themed trivia nights occurring in the city of London that night, one which Sophie had been at with her friends and the other where his siblings were celebrating one of his sister’s birthday. He’d just gone to the wrong one by accident. 

And the moment he’d stepped through the pub doors, shaking water out of his hair as he quickly stumbled in to escape the downpour beating down on the pavement outside, she’d felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. A shiver rolling down her spine and a buzzing sensation filling her ribcage right below her heart, and forcing her to look over.

Her eyes had caught his pale blue ones and the second they had, he’d stopped in place. As if he’d had the exact same feeling as her. Then she blinked and he was sliding into the seat next to her and asking if he could buy her a drink when she already had a full pint sitting in front of her.

She’d been tempted to ignore him at first, shrug off the sensations as nothing but the temperature of the bar getting to her, but she’d found him hard to resist. 

Dark chestnut hair that curled at the tips, even more when it was wet, and a crooked smile that sent a thrill through her whenever she saw it, only piqued her curiosity. Plus, he was incredibly charming and very funny, making conversing with him easy and not awkward and anxiety inducing as Sophie usually felt when talking to men. They’d gotten so caught up in their conversation, she’d forgotten all about the trivia competition going on around them. 

He wasn’t supposed to have stayed. It was his sister’s birthday, and he was at the wrong pub. If he didn’t leave soon, his sister was going to have his ass, as he’d repeatedly told her. But no matter how many times he had said it, he just continued to sit there, chatting with her.

Finally, she’d convinced him that he probably needed to get to his sister’s party, before the clock struck midnight, or else his little sister would, as he’d said, have his ass mounted on the wall in this mother’s home. It wasn’t fair of her to take up all his attention when he was supposed to be celebrating with his family. But the only way he’d leave was if he got her number. 

So, she’d agreed, typing her number into his phone before he left and two days later he texted asking if she wanted to meet up.

The rest had been history. Your typical, blossoming romance that turned into a full blown relationship rather quickly. Too quickly for Sophie’s taste but even she couldn’t deny that she was in love. That this man she'd met by chance made her feel a way she’d never felt before. 

And now she had to figure out how she was going to tell him about this. That she was pregnant.

She had no idea how he would react. 

But she had to tell him. That she knew. It wasn’t fair to keep this from him, he had just as much of a stake in the matter as she did. This baby was as much his as it was hers, and he deserved to know. He deserved to have a say in this. 

And she knew she had to tell him face to face, even if she couldn’t figure out how to tell him. She knew this was a conversation she couldn’t have over the phone. She needed to see him, to, as they say, rip the band-aid off. They could figure it out from there. 

If she called him now, he’d probably pick up. While working at a top tier law firm had been a pain to work around, many dates and hangouts rescheduled because work kept him longer than he wanted, Sophie knew that he had a strict policy of starting his lunch break at eleven fifty or else he wouldn’t eat until dinner (which would sometimes be as late as ten in the evening), and with her classes today not starting till one, now was the best time to call. 

Grabbing her phone from the table, where it was still sitting next to the pregnancy test, she quickly found his contact and called. It only took a few rings before he picked up. 

“Hello?”

Rip off the band-aid. She just had to rip off the band-aid. 

| Six Years Later |

There were many things that made being a single mother difficult, but Sophie found sleep deprivation to be one of the top three. Maybe number two, after child expenses but before no longer having a social life. 

Ever since her son had been born it had felt as though she hadn’t had a good night sleep in years. She felt like she got even less sleep than when she’d been in university or before that, when she’d still been living with her steprelatives (which really said something). And her son had become even more of a morning person than she was. Sophie was pretty sure he was currently waking at the crack of dawn, playing with his toys in his room for an hour, before he got bored of waiting for her to wake up and decided to go wake her himself. 

Which is exactly what he did the morning she was set to start her new job. 

She’d been woken from her peaceful slumber, from her dreams of relaxing on a nice sunny beach somewhere warm with a very fruity drink in her hand to a slight pressure on her back. Pressure that felt like two little hands pushing against the muscles in her shoulder blades. 

“Mama?” he son, Charles, asked as he went back to pushing against her back. “Mama, wake up.”

Sophie groaned. She really did not want to be getting up right now. Eyes still closed, body loose and relaxed, she almost went right back to sleep then and there.

Almost. 

“Mama!” Charles whined louder, shaking her still with more force now. “Mama, it’s time to wake up.”

He wasn’t going to let up. Sophie knew that. Her son was relentless, and twice as stubborn as she was. Where he got it from she didn’t know, but she knew once Charles set his mind to something, he was going to get it done. 

Taking a few final seconds to let the clutches of sleep escape her, letting her body fully wake up, Sophie finally rolled over onto her back and opened her eyes. Blinking awake, she found her five year old kneeling on the covers next to her, beaming brightly down at her. 

“Morning Mama,” he said, loudly and excitedly. The moment he noticed she was awake, he was flashing her an innocent smile, as if he hadn’t been the one rudely trying to wake her moments ago. 

Even in her drowsy state, Sophie couldn’t help but smile back at him. 

“What are you so happy about?” she asked, fondly.

“Nana came up and said you didn’t need to worry about making breakfast today because she already has,” Charles happily told her, before flashing another toothy smile. “She’s making pancakes.”

Sophie sighed. Marilla didn’t need to do that.

She knew her godmother meant well, but she was more than capable of managing Charles and getting ready for work at the same time. Only, much like Charles, there wasn’t much she could do to stop the older woman when she set her mind to something.

Maybe that’s where he’d gotten his stubbornness from?

And she supposed, as she thought it over, if Marilla was going to handle breakfast, then Sophie had a few minutes to just relax before she had to get out of bed and get ready. 

Scanning the clock on her side table to check, she saw it was only ten minutes before her alarm was going to go off. Charles had, thankfully, decided to not to wake her an hour before her alarm went off, like he normally did. 

Marilla had frankly done her a favor. She could spend a few minutes cuddling her son now. Something she quickly and happily did, reaching out and snatching her son up, pulling him into her arms as he squealed and began to giggle. Her fingers danced quickly down his sides as she tickled him, making him squeal louder and wriggle desperately out of her grip.

“Stop, mama! Stop ! That tickles!” he ordered as he laughed. 

Sophie couldn’t resist it, she tickled him for a few more seconds before pressing a big kiss to his cheek and letting him go. Charles, still giggling, quickly moved away from her in case she tried to grab him again and began to climb off the bed.

“Careful,” she told him gently as she watched, poised to catch him if he slipped. Her bed wasn’t too high up off the ground, but it didn’t mean she didn’t worry. 

“I know,” Charles replied dismissively as he slid off the bed with ease. 

Biting her tongue, Sophie tried to hold back a sigh. She knew she had to move on. Charles was getting older and soon he wouldn’t need her that much. Not that he wasn’t already incredibly independent, even at his young age. 

Bold and fearless, and a quick learner too, Charles was like a little general the way he’d sometimes order her about. He’d somehow memorized almost every tube line and station, and he could direct Sophie anywhere after visiting it once. And it didn’t help that her son could charm the socks off of anyone with just a quick bashful look and sweet, crooked smile, making it hard for even Sophie to tell him off or punish him for misbehaving, when all he had to do was give her a sad look and a small “I’m sowry , mama” and she was already over whatever it was he’d done. 

“ Oh, this one’s going to be a heartbreaker one day ,” Marilla had told her in the hospital room after Charles was born, cooing over her grand-godchild as he slept peacefully in her arms.

Just like his father , Sophie had thought sadly. 

And that wasn’t the only thing Charles shared in common with his father. Similarities that always took Sophie by surprise. They tended to show up suddenly and without warning, forcing Sophie to recall a time and a man she did not truthfully ever want to think about.

Even without ever having met him, Charles had picked up some of his father’s personality and traits. 

He’d explode with energy whenever he got excited, suddenly bouncing off the walls when he’d previously been calm and collected, as if he’d been given free reign in a candy store with an unlimited amount of money to spend. Charles also loved to cuddle up with her in the morning; she'd sometimes wake to find little arms wrapped around her waist and a tiny body pressed against her chest underneath the duvet. His father had been the same, waking her by wrapping an arm around her and dragging her close, moaning that it was far too early in the morning to be getting up and they could sleep for a few more minutes, even when she was telling him it was close to ten am and she had to get up for her class. 

Charles also snored. Just like his father, even though his father had always denied it when Sophie had pointed it out to him. And he hated broccoli, which his father hated too, but loved red delicious apples, which were his father’s favorite snack. He had a sweet tooth, but could have gotten that from Sophie, and like his father, besides the snoring, Charles also slept like the dead, which had left Sophie quite surprised when he suddenly became a morning person like her. His father was a perpetual night owl who loved sleeping and lounging about, and there had been many occasions where Sophie had found him passed out on her couch napping in the middle of the afternoon. And once he was asleep he was difficult to wake up, just like it was with Charles.

When Charles had been a baby, whenever he would wake Sophie up in the middle of the night crying, he’d fall back asleep the moment she lifted him up and out of his cradle and brought him against her chest to feed him. As if to say it wasn’t his nappy or his belly that was causing his upset, but the fact that he wasn’t at her side. 

Just like his father, Charles was always right there next to her. Even when she wasn’t looking. She’d turn around and find him right there. He just liked to be around her. 

Well, Charles did. His father…his father was another story. 

Even with all those similarities he’d somehow inherited, there was one thing they didn’t have in common. 

Charles hated art. Ironic, given his father’s artistic talents had also been inherited. But Charles hated doing crafts, hated painting or drawing, and he especially, especially hated art museums. He found them just terribly boring. 

“ They’re just terribly boring ,” he’d told her with a whine when she’d suggested going one weekend. “ I want to go see the dinosaurs instead. ” 

And Sophie didn’t mind relenting to this preference. She wouldn’t ignore that she worried sometimes that she might run into Charles’ father. It had been over six years since they’d last spoken, but London could feel incredibly small sometimes and she knew he was out there. Somewhere. 

And the National Gallery and Tate Modern had practically been a second home for him. The places he went when he needed a moment to breathe or think. She feared she’d walk into a room and find him there with his new partner or conquest , leading her around and showing off his knowledge the same way he had with Sophie once before. It was why she kept away from the places she knew he frequented most, not that she could afford most of them anyway. 

But Sophie had to stop thinking about him. Thinking about Charles’ father always left her in a bad mood, reminding her of the pain and heartbreak that had come with their relationship’s sudden and unexpected end. 

And today was not the day to start off in a foul mood. 

Slamming her hand on the alarm, when it finally went off, with a bit more force than she’d wanted, Sophie threw back the covers and headed towards the bathroom to get ready. There was only one bathroom on their floor, and Charles was already inside standing on his stool in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth. Standing next to him, Sophie began brushing her own teeth before getting a comb through her pin straight hair and then over Charles’ soft almost curls. Once they were done, she gently pushed him out of the bathroom and towards his room, instructing him to change out of his pajamas and into his new school uniform that she laid out for him the night before.

Charles was adamant he did not need her help getting ready, so Sophie used it as an opportunity to quickly slip back into her room and change. She’d spent the previous day anxiously trying to figure out what to wear before finally deciding on an ivory, silk, button up blouse with a simple, black, pencil skirt and beige tights underneath. Nothing too fancy or over the top, and what Lucy had confirmed for her over Facetime was a good choice. 

Once changed, Sophie put on a little bit of makeup and made sure her dark hair looked perfect, without a strand out of place. She’d run a straightener through it the night before, making sure it was perfectly straight. She’d curved the straightener towards the ends of her shoulder length locks to give them a little flick at the ends. She’d even pulled out the fancier jewelry, a pair of pearl earrings and matching pearl drop necklace Marilla and Thomas had gifted her for her birthday. It added a level of elegance to her overall simple outfit. 

And once she was ready, she exited her room and found Charles dressed and ready for his first day at his new school. 

Sophie couldn’t help but smile when she saw Charles waiting for her in the hall, all ready and dressed for his new school. He looked so grown up wearing his new navy jumper and black khaki pants. His new primary school was a little more prestigious than the last one, some Charles seemed to realize as well, given he’d thrown on the school’s blazer and cap. His new black sneakers squeaked as they rubbed against the hardwood. It appeared that he wanted to look his best for his first day at a new school. 

“Ready?” she asked, trying to suppress a fond giggle. His blazer looked a size too big, almost hanging off him, but he’d grown into it. 

Charles nodded and quickly went ahead of her, making his way down to the kitchen where Sophie could smell the sweet smell of pancakes wafting from. And the moment Marilla saw Charles, she gasped.

“Oh, look at you. Don’t you look so handsome? A proper, little gentleman,” she cooed, placing both hands over her heart as she turned and saw Charles enter the room. “Thomas? Thomas, where’s my phone? I need to get a photo.”

“Right here,” Thomas replied with a soft chuckle, phone already in hand and held out towards her, having been waiting for her to ask for it. 

“Just wait, Charlie. Let me get a quick photo,” Marilla ordered him gently as she got the phone ready, leaning down as she held it out in front of her. “Now give me a big smile.”

Charles obliged with ease, giving his Nana a big, toothy smile, head held high as he beamed brightly. Marilla tapped her phone screen a few times, telling him to hold the pose and repeating how handsome he looked, before pointing at Sophie and then back to Charles.

“Get in there, Sophie,” Marilla ordered. “I want one of the both of you. It's a big day for you both.”

Sophie sighed, shaking her head as she stepped forward and came to her son’s side, crouching down next to him and putting her hands on his shoulders as she smiled up at the camera from behind him. 

Her godmother got a few more pictures before lowering the phone. “Perfect. I’ll send these to you as well Sophie so you have a copy,” she told Sophie as she flipped through the pictures. 

“You really didn’t need to make breakfast,” Sophie said to her godmother as she made her way to the kitchen table.

“Oh, nonsense,” Marilla replied with a dismissive wave. “It’s an important day. First day at a new job and a new school, you shouldn’t be running around stressing about the little things.”

Sophie bit her tongue, deciding it was best not to argue with Marilla about breakfast any further. 

Her godparents were retired. Well, semi-retired, they still ran the cafe they’d owned for thirty years with one of their daughters. And with three daughters and an army of grandchildren of their own, Sophie always felt as though she was a burden for them, taking up space in their old, two story Victorian home.

She and Charles lived on the second floor, Sophie in the spare guest room and Charles in a smaller room that had originally been a study. The Crabtrees had insisted that Charles get a room of his own, but had fitted the room with a bunk bed at Sophie's request so that there would still be space for their grandchildren if they ever spent the night. There were two other guest rooms in the home, along with the master bedroom, but Sophie felt she’d taken up enough space by just being there. 

But for a college drop out with a small child, there wasn’t much else in London that Sophie could afford. She didn’t even pay rent staying with the Crabtrees, and they refused whenever she tried. She tried to get them to at least take the money she was getting from renting out My Cottage, her only main solid source of income these past few years, but they refused that too, telling her she needed it for Charles. 

They’d done so much for her over the years. Ever since they realized what her stepmother had been doing after Sophie’s father passed, how she’d been treating her. 

They’d swept her from the house in less than a day, showing up at the front door one afternoon with their two son-in-laws as backup while they instructed a then seventeen year old Sophie to get in the car. That they would pack up her stuff for her. That she was leaving and wouldn’t be returned to her stepmother’s care. 

They’d then spent money from their own pension and savings to pay for the solicitor who got Sophie what remained of her inheritance, which wasn’t much by that point but had included the deed to My Cottage, her father’s home. They’d helped Sophie get back not only her independence, but back on her feet. Twice now, since they’d done the same again after she got pregnant with Charles.  

No matter how many times the Crabtrees told her she was family and that was just what you did for family, Sophie felt like she owed her godparents so much. So she tried to help in other ways, like paying for any maintenance issues that might have come up in the old home or running errands and helping them fill out paperwork. Bring them to their doctor visits and make sure they were taking the list of medications that came with getting old so their daughters didn’t need to worry about it. 

So, Sophie bit her tongue and sat down, watching Charles scarf down plate after plate while she slowly nibbled at her own. Thinking of ways to return the favor to Marilla for taking care of breakfast and making a list of what she’d need to do when she got home after work today. 

As she thought it over, she didn’t realize that time had started to slip away from her, until she glanced down at her wristwatch and saw the time.

“Oh! Oh, Charlie, we need to go!” she quickly said, jumping up from her seat. “We’re gonna be late.” 

Charles quickly jumped down from his chair and grabbed his backpack, one which Marilla had hung up there for him, before racing towards the front door. Behind him, Sophie scrambled to grab her purse and house keys as she made her way into the hallway, where she grabbed her coat and threw it on.

“We’ll meet you at the cafe after you get off,” Marilla reminded her as they were heading out the front door.

Sophie nodded. “See you then.”

“Bye Nana. Bye Pop-pop,” Charles yelled out from the front stairs, waving excitedly.

“Bye Charles! Have a good day!” Marilla called back, blowing him a big kiss.

“Be good today kiddo,” Thomas added and the next thing Sophie knew, she and Charles were halfway down the street and racing towards the underground. 

–

“Okay, here we are,” Sophie announced gently as she led Charles past the gates of St. Charlotte’s. 

Thankfully, they’d caught the first train right as it pulled in, meaning they were only a few minutes late by the time they got from the station to the school. A little out of breath and frazzled, but they’d gotten there just after the doors had opened to welcome the students in. 

Sophie’s new boss, Agatha Danbury, had recommended the school, even pulled a favor for her with the headmistress to get Charles in at the last minute, which Sophie had been eternally grateful for. It was a little bit more expensive than Charles’ previous school, but it was also conveniently located near to where Sophie would now be working, meaning she wouldn’t have to spend much on transportation and would be close by if anything happened. 

And the school was a definite up from Charles’ previous primary school, with black iron gates circling the property, which was a large, grand looking, red brick building. A large grassy playground to their left as they headed towards the front doors, where a stream of children were saying their goodbyes to their parents and guardians before heading in. Some were crying and others were happily skipping and running into the school, excitedly greeting their friends as they spotted them.

Charles’ hand, which was currently held in Sophie, suddenly gripped tighter, squeezing hers as they got closer to the front door.

“Are you alright, my little bumblebee?” Sophie asked, glancing down and noting the hesitant look on her son’s face. 

While his eyes held a rather fearful gaze, Charles nodded.

Sophie slipped her hand gently out of his to run it over the top of his head, over the soft, chestnut strands that curled every so slightly at the ends. 

“You’ll be fine,” she told him, leaning down to give him a supportive peak on the cheek. “I know you’ll make lots of new friends and have a good time.”

Charles nodded again, more vigorously this time, seeming to slowly be regaining his courage. Sophie gently led him over to the front door, where a young woman with a clipboard, possibly one of the teachers, was standing. She appeared to be answering questions and instructing students on where to go when parents brought them up to drop them off. 

And she smiled at them politely when she saw them.

“And who might this be?” she asked, looking down at Charles.

Glancing over his shoulder towards her, Charles gave his mother a hesitant look, but Sophie gently nodded back, urging her son to step forward and introduce himself. 

So, Charles turned back to the woman, puffed up his chest and tilted up his chin and said. “I’m Charles Benjamin Baek. But everyone calls me Charlie.”

The teacher only smiled sweetly back. “Well, I’m Ms Brown. Now, let’s see where you will be,” she then scanned over her clipboard. “Ah yes, Charles Baek. You’ll be in the Keats' classroom. Right down the hall with Mrs. Quinn.”

“Alright, last goodbyes,” Sophie told her son.

Crouching down to Charles’ level, placing her hands on his arms as he turned to face her, she looked him in the eye.

“You be good, okay?” she said and he nodded. “Make lots of friends and enjoy yourself, alright? I’ll be back later this afternoon to pick you up, and we’ll go have dinner at the cafe with Nana and Pop-pop.”

“Okay, mama,” Charles told her, nodding.

Sophie smiled. “Alright, now give me a kiss.”

Charles pecked her on the cheek.

“Now the other side,” she instructed sweetly.

He quickly moved and kissed her other cheek.

“Nose kisses!” she said and Charles giggled. 

They rubbed the tips of their noses against each other, and Sophie threw in one more kiss against his cheek before standing back up. Stepping back so her son could get into the building. 

“You have a good time, baby,” she told him. “I love you.”

“Love you to, mama,” Charles called out over his shoulder as he ran up the front stairs, his backpack bouncing up and down wildly behind him as he did. 

Chewing her lower lip nervously., Sophie watched him make his way down the front hallway and into a room another teacher had directed him to. Knowing he was now safe inside, she swallowed down her worries and concerns, hoping Charles would have a good day at his new school, before turning and making her way towards the office.  

It didn’t take long. Agatha had recommended St. Charlotte’s due to its proximity, so Sophie arrived at the rather tall and imposing office building quickly enough. As she walked in, Sophie still found herself a little taken aback at how fancy the interior looked. Even the lobby was decorated in a manner to give off an air of prestige, which was to be expected given the firm’s reputation. She almost felt like she’d walked into a hotel given the modern furniture and elegant designs decorating the walls. The trickling water sounds from the indoor water fountain, a large glass screen set up as a makeshift waterfall, added an air of serenity and peace to the lobby. The firm’s name engraved in black over the glass, blurred slightly as water continuously poured down over it, but the name could still be made out. 

Bridgebury was one of the top law firms in the city and Sophie still couldn’t believe she’d landed a job working there without a degree. Her pay was now ten times what she’d been making doing temp work and renting out My Cottage, and, even better, she was now salaried with benefits. 

She could almost cry whenever she thought about it. She didn’t care if she was just a secretary, eighty thousand pounds a year was worth it. A few months working here and she knew she’d finally be able to pay back the Crabtrees for all their help. To get enough for a place of her own, or to even live in My Cottage after years of renting it out for extra cash. The position was a godsend and there was no way she was going to let go of the opportunity Agatha had given her. 

Making her way towards the security desk, Sophie politely told them her name and that she was to start working today with Mrs. Danbury. She told them that she was also supposed to pick up an ID badge from them, but the security officer behind the desk told her that while she was in the system and approved to be let up, her ID was still being made so someone would come down to escort her up in the meantime.

So, she waited. Standing somewhat awkwardly in the area by the elevators, waiting until a ding could be heard as the doors opened and a young gentleman stepped out. He was younger than Sophie, looking fresh out of university with dark hair and boyish good looks. He glanced around before spotting her, quickly jogging over to greet her.

“You must be Sophie,” he told her and she nodded. He then stuck his hand out. “I’m Theo, one of the copywriters.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sophie said, taking it and giving it a quick shake.

“Mrs. Danbury asked me to escort you up since she sort of can’t at the moment.” 

“Understandable,” Sophie commented with a lighthearted laugh, well aware her new boss was currently confined to a wheelchair for the next month due to an injury involving a staircase and bad slippers.

Theo then led her past security and to the elevators, apologizing for her ID badge not being ready as he tapped his own on the card reader and pressed the button for the seventh floor. Sophie assured him it was fine and the conversation continued on with little fanfare. Basic small talk, asking each other where they were from and talking about the recent blessing of sunshine the city had gotten for the past week. They chatted until Theo stopped in front of a recognizable door. Sophie remembered it from the last time she’d come to Bridgebury, to finalize her working papers and get trained by the outgoing assistant, Coral. It led into her new boss’ office.

“Mrs. Danbury. Ms. Baek is here,” Theo announced politely after knocking and opening the door for Sophie, letting her step in first. 

Sitting in the middle of the room, behind a large, mahogany desk, was Agatha Danbury. Dressed to the nines with one of her legs currently propped up and in a white plaster cast, a dark heel on the other unbroken foot. She glanced up from the papers laying on the desk in front of her, over the half mooned, golden spectacles connected to a matching gold chain that rested on the bridge of her nose and smiled when she saw them.

“Sophie,” she beamed. “How are you?”

“I’m well, Mrs. Danbury,” she replied politely as she stepped further into the room. 

“You must forgive me for not coming over to greet you, but I’ve found myself rather at odds with this infernal chair,” Agatha told her. “Poor Theo has had to roll me around the office or else I’d be stuck here permanently.”

“Oh, I’m welcome to help if you need ma’am,” Sophie quickly told her, trying to be helpful.

Agatha only waved her off. “I’m certain Theo can put up with me for a few more days, while I get the hang of this.”

As she spoke, Theo headed towards her, stepping behind her chair and helping to move her away from the desk and over to where Sophie was standing. 

“Now, how’s Charles?” Agatha asked. 

“He’s alright. I just dropped him off at St. Charlotte’s,” she answered. “Thank you again for suggesting it. And for helping Charles to get in!” 

“It was no issue,” Agatha said. “Golda owes me a few favors, and a boy with your son’s brains deserves to go to a school that will nurture it.” 

Agatha had taken a liking to Charles, ever since she’d first met him. Charles had been the one to keep her company while they were both stuck sharing a hospital room. Agatha with her broken femur, being scheduled for surgery, and Charles fighting off a bad case of strep that had turned into sepsis. 

As horrible of a weekend as it had been for her at the time, it had also been the reason Sophie had gotten her job. 

“You can leave your bag at your desk. I know Coral showed you where the break room is up here if you need to put anything in the fridge,” Agatha added. “Theo, if you wouldn’t mind. I need to stop by John’s office before the meeting.”

“Of course, Mrs. Danbury,” Theo replied and began pushing her chair out of the room.

Sophie followed, heading towards the desk outside of Agatha’s office, where she quickly threw off her coat and hung it off the back of the chair, before sliding her purse underneath the sleek, smooth desk she’d now be working at. 

“Oh, Sophie! If you could be a dear and get the files on my desk downstairs to the conference room, that would be wonderful,” Agatha said, pointing towards the folders currently sitting on her desk. “I hate to throw you in the deep end like this but we have an upcoming case we need to debrief the other partners on and it has to be today. Once we are done with the meeting, I’ll give you the full rundown of your tasks for the day.” 

Sophie nodded. “Of course.”

She returned quickly to Agatha’s desk to grab the files and made her way towards the elevator. The stack of folders was a large one, which left Sophie struggling a little to carry them through the hallway.

“I need you to bring those to the conference room on the fifth floor,” Agatha told her when she rejoined them. “I’ll meet you there once I’ve gone over a few matters with John.” 

Sophie nodded as she stepped onto the elevator with them. Other than the sixth floor, she’d only briefly visited the third, and that was just to go see HR and sign documents. She hadn’t seen the other floors during her initial tour, and Coral had kept her to the sixth floor while she did her training. 

She did however know that Bridgebury handled a multitude of issues from civil cases to public relations and consulting. Agatha was one of the founding partners, and the only remaining one to after the death of the co-founder. 

“ Started it with my dear old friend, Edmund. Wonderful man ,” she had told her back in the hospital after they first met, while she was laying in her hospital bed. “ We built the place from the ground up .”

Edmund had passed years before, but his sons worked at the firm now, with some of his other children interning, and his family still held a major stake in the place. His eldest sons occupied two of the other office spaces on the same floor as Agatha’s along with two other partners. And for the most part, her training had been kept to the area outside of Agatha’s office on the sixth floor so she hadn’t met either one of them. Let alone see them. 

“I’ll see you there,” Agatha informed her as the elevator arrived at the fifth floor. 

The elevator door dinged as they opened and Sophie stepped out, glancing around for any kind of sign that would point her in the right direction. She turned to ask which way she should be going, only for the doors to have already shut behind her. 

Damn .

On the gray painted wall in front of her spotted an arrow and the words “Conference Rooms” pointed towards her right and quickly headed that way, following any other signs that popped up as she did.

Checking the files were organized as she walked through the open spaced office this floor had and towards the conference rooms, Sophie glanced up to make sure she wasn’t going to run into anyone, giving a quick scan of the open spaced area as she did. She made the briefest of eye contact with a woman standing by a desk on the other side of the room and almost did a double take. 

Was that…Posy?

Sophie frowned. Still moving in the direction of the conference room, and past where the woman had been standing, she quickly threw a glance over her shoulder just to make sure, but they were gone. Vanished into thin air. For a second, Sophie thought she’d imagined it. 

But she could have sworn for a second she’d seen her former stepsister. And that said former stepsister had also seen her. But it wasn’t possible. She hadn’t seen Posy in years. What would she possibly be doing at Bridgebury? 

With her mind distracted and her eyes averted from what was in front of her, Sophie turned the corner and–

Barreled straight into someone coming around from the other side. 

The papers flew out of her arms as they collided, flying around them wildly like large, bland pieces of confetti as the folders she’d been holding slipped out of her grip and dropped like a stone to the ground. Sophie couldn’t be any more mortified. Cheeks burning, the awareness that multiple eyes were now on her, she quickly dropped to her knees and began grabbing what she’d dropped as fast as possible. 

And, judging by the nice leather shoes and suit the body in front of her was wearing, she’d run into a man. The grunt of surprise she’d heard from them as they hit had also sounded rather masculine.

“I’m so sorry,” she quickly blurted out, rushing to grab the papers before he could. “I wasn’t looking–”

“No worries. It was my fault,” an all too familiar voice said gently and Sophie froze. 

For a moment, she thought she’d misheard, that maybe her mind was just playing multiple vile tricks on her today, but she knew that voice. It was the same voice as the one that played on old voicemails she’d refused to delete. The voice that lingered in her dreams. The voice of a man she hadn’t seen or heard from in years. Who the last time she spoke to told her he wanted nothing to do with her.

And while she knew the only way to confirm if it was who she thought it was, Sophie found herself frozen in place. Muscles tensed and stiff, as if they’d turned to marble. Her body locked in place as she found herself unable to look up from the shiny, black, leather oxford shoes before her and confirm what she knew was standing before. Who was standing before her. 

With her heart suddenly pounding a staccato beat against her sternum, Sophie finally forced her body to move, made her eyes look up and immediately caught the familiar, pale blue eyes of the last man she’d ever thought she’d see again. 

Because standing before her was Charles’ father. 

Benedict Bridgerton.

Chapter Text

| Six Years Ago |

By the time Benedict arrived, Sophie had been able to regain some of her wandering courage. She’d calmed her erratic nerves somewhat, but her heart was still racing. And all she’d done for most of her wait was pace back and forth in her small studio apartment, nervously chewing on a stubborn hangnail till she pulled too hard and it bled. 

Then there were four quick raps on her door. 

The moment she opened it, Benedict barrelled into her apartment, sweaty and out of breath. And while he was dressed in his work attire, he’d pulled his tie loose, it was now hanging around his neck, and his hair was a mess, as if he’d been running his fingers through it constantly on his way here. But his pale eyes were the biggest give away to his panic, wide eyed and scanning the room quickly for anything out of the ordinary. 

Sophie had barely gotten out a ‘hey’ before she was immediately bombarded with questions from him.

“What happened? Are you okay? Did something happen at school?” he asked rapid fire, momentarily throwing her off. “Was it that Cavander bastard again? Cause I swear Sophie I will–”

“Did you run here?” she asked back in shock, cutting him off. Confused and also a little concerned. It had briefly made her forget why she’d even called him here in the first place. 

“I couldn’t find parking outside so I had to park a few blocks away,” Benedict told her hastily, with a wave of the hand. “But that doesn’t matter. Why are you upset?”

“I’m not upset,” she quickly told him. A lie.

“Sophie,” Benedict said gently, taking a step towards her and placing his hands on her arms. “I know when you're upset, and I know when you’re stressed. What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” she told him. Another lie.

Benedict only raised a brow in response, seeing straight through, like he always did. But the words got caught in her throat as she opened her mouth to answer, choking her. She swallowed, trying again, but found herself struggling to get out two simple sentences. 

I’m pregnant. And you’re the father .

Six words. Should be easy enough, but the words kept trapping themselves in her throat and twisting themselves into a large lump she struggled to swallow past. She couldn’t even look Benedict in the eyes. Chewing on her lower lip nervously, she kept her eyes trained on the hardwood floors instead of making Benedict’s pale eyes. 

So much for courage. 

“Sophie,” Benedict said again, softly, giving her an encouraging smile. “You’re kind of starting to freak me out.”  

Rip the bandaid off. That’s all she needed to do. 

“I’m um…I’m pregnant,” she finally admitted, weakly. 

There was nothing but silence, except for the sharp intake of breath she heard from Benedict. A small gasp of surprise. 

And she was about to chew her lip bloody as she waited for Benedict to say something, her fingers impulsively fiddling with the bottom of his suit jacket. But he didn’t. The silence just continued, and all it did was confirm to her what she thought would happen.

That he’d be furious. 

Defeated, Sophie sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said weakly, letting her hands drop to her side, still not taking her eyes off of the floor. 

“Why are you apologizing?” Benedict asked her, sounding confused. 

Sophie looked up and frowned at him, confused as well. Even more so when she saw the look on his face. 

He looked happy – no. He was happy. Excited. Elated. Benedict looked to be desperately trying to hold it back though, but there was a small smile pulling at his lips, his pale eyes filled with adoration and awe as he stared down at her. 

“Y-you’re not upset?” she asked.

“Why would I be upset?” Benedict asked her with a soft laugh. “This is wonderful.”

Sophie blinked, stunned. She’d prepared for anger, for shock, for disgust, but not happiness. Of all the reactions her anxious mind had used to spin terrifying hypotheticals for her, happiness had been absent, sliping from her mind as fear had sunk its poisoned claws into her.  

“You do want this right?” he asked her next, suddenly serious. A small crease of concern appeared between his brows. “The baby?”

“No– yes !” she said quickly as she saw the look of shock Benedict gave when she said no. But she quickly found herself backtracking. “I-I mean…m-maybe. I…I don’t know,” she admitted weakly with a sigh, stuttering, still too caught up in him not being upset with her for her mind to think of anything else. 

“Hey, come here,” he told her gently and pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her small frame and letting her lean against his chest. 

And while she did let out a defeated sigh, Sophie went without issue, snuggling into him, feeling safe in his arms. As he held her close, she felt him press a soft kiss on the top of her head, while his hands began to slide up and down her back. 

“Were you thinking about your mum?” he asked, and Sophie finally broke.

“Yes,” she croaked out and Benedict’s arms tightened around her. 

They stood there for a few silent moments, Benedict holding her as she cried her grief into his chest. Then Benedict gently pulled her over towards the sofa, helping her to sit down. His arms still wrapped around her as he let her cry into his very nice and expensive suit. The smooth material soothingly rubbed on her cheek as she sobbed, soaking the fabric with her tears. All the while, Benedict continued to comfort her, gently shushing her as he kept rubbing his hand soothingly up and down her back. 

She cried until she ran out of tears. Thinking about her mother and all the hardship she’d faced in her life because she’d had Sophie. She’d told Benedict most of it, how her mother had been on her own after she gave Sophie’s father the news, news he had not taken well. The struggle she went through raising a child as a single mother without any support, until a cancer diagnosis snatched her from Sophie when she was only a few years old.

But Sophie had never really spoken to Benedict about her father though. Not that there was much to talk about. She’d never been that close with him, Richard Gun, the man who’d raised her after her mother’s death. Well, he paid other people to raise her really: nannies, tutors, and a boarding school miles north of London. 

She’d told him the basics though and he knew why she’d left home after her father’s death. Why she’d moved in with her godparents and lived with them until she went to university. Benedict even knew about her stepmother, how she’d treated Sophie for the majority of her life. The basics at least. The less Sophie had to say about her step relatives, the better. So she’d kept it to the bare minimum. But even that had left Benedict furious at how she’d been treated, so she’d made sure not to talk about them too often. He didn’t need to know about all of it. 

But, even after telling him about her family, she’d held her tongue about the lawsuit. She just didn’t want to worry him with it, and it was almost over now anyway. She didn’t want to think about it any further, and knowing Benedict, and what he currently did for a living, she knew he’d get himself involved if she told him. Make sure she won it. And she didn’t want that, she didn’t want to be a burden to anyone, and she didn’t want their relationship defined by it. 

“Did you think I was going to be upset?” Benedict’s question cut off her thoughts. He was pulling away, so he could look down at her. 

She sighed. “Sorry.”

“Sophie–” She looked up, seeing Benedict had a look on his face that she could describe as sympathetic fondness. “I love you. And trust me when I say, there is nothing you could say or do that could change that. Including this.” 

“I know,” she said back pathetically, wiping the lingering wetness off her face with the back of her hand. 

A callous hand cupped her cheek. Benedict’s thumb soothingly rubbed over her cheekbone. 

“We will figure this out. I promise,” Benedict told her. “It will be okay.”

And she believed him when he said that. Maybe it was okay to let Benedict in, to tell him more about her past. For some reason, Sophie knew that she could figure this out with Benedict. That it would be okay.

Right?

| Present Day |

There was no way.

There was no fucking way.

Sophie was ninety percent sure she’d just had an aneurysm. She’d had to. It was the only possible reason. She had to be dead. A vein must have ballooned in her head and finally burst, killing her, and now she was in hell. 

Because there was no possible way that Benedict Bridgerton could be standing in front of her right now. 

But he was. It was him. The longer she stared at him, the more she was unable to deny it.

And he looked the exact same as he did almost six years ago, as if he’d barely aged. Same dark hair cut short and swept to the side. Same pale eyes the color of the seas during a storm. Those same lips she sometimes still felt ghosting against hers after a thousand kisses years ago. Lips which had always flashed her that crooked smile she’d loved so much. It all looked the same. 

And it left her stunned, frozen in place, watching as Benedict crouched down in front of her and began to gather up the papers lying scattered around them. The ones she’d forgotten about in her shock. She stayed there, kneeling, her knees digging into the rough carpet, watching as he picked up the papers and organized them. 

“Here you go,” Benedict finally said after grabbing the last paper and straightening up the pile he had in his hands, picking them up and tapping them against his knee until all the papers lined up perfectly, before holding them out to her.

But Sophie didn’t react, still staring at him in shock, her brows furrowed. As if all she had to do was blink and he would disappear. The gears in her brain had come to a complete and utter stop as she tried to process what was happening. How it was possible he was here, crouched down in front of her. 

And there was no reaction from him as he stared at her. Nothing that told her he recognized her. No realization or look of surprise crossed his face as they stared at one another. Sophie waited, too scared to move, waiting for the penny to drop, for him to realize it was her. For his eyes to widen as he identified her. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she waited.  

She had no idea how he would react. Their last conversation had gone so poorly. He’d been so cruel to her, so unlike the man she’d come to love, that she worried the same anger she’d heard over the phone that the day would unleash itself on her once more. 

Would he have her thrown out of the building? Demand she be fired from the first stable job she’d had in years? Would he yell at her? Accuse her of stalking him? Harassing him? Maybe he would call the police and have her arrested. Would he get child services involved? Would he take Charles from her ? She just didn’t know. So, she waited, terrified. Waited for him to finally realize she was kneeling in front of him, the mother of his child. The child he had turned his back on that same way her own father had with her.

But it never came. 

Because Benedict looked straight through her, as if he was looking at a stranger. 

“Um…are you going to take them?” he asked her after a moment, giving her a confused look.

“Oh! Um…yes, sorry,” Sophie quickly said, realizing she looked rather idiotic just kneeling there and doing nothing. She quickly took the papers from him. “Thank you.” 

Maybe he didn’t realize it was her. It had been a couple years since they’d last seen each other. Sophie’s body had gone through some changes since having Charles and she’d even cut her hair, much shorter than she’d done when she was young. Mainly because Charles had always grabbed and pulled on her hair when he was a baby, so often it felt almost targeted so Sophie had cut her hair to her shoulders to prevent him from having such an easy time snatching strands and pulling them out. 

And there was the matter of Benedict had always been bad with faces. She remembered teasing him about his facial blindness before. 

But that didn’t stop the sense of disappointment that briefly washed over her. She really hadn’t meant that much to him, had she?

Placing the papers back on top of the folders, Sophie gathered them all back into her arms and began to push herself back up to stand. Something that was a little difficult without the use of both of her arms for balance. 

“Here, let me help,” Benedict said, reaching out towards her. 

The moment his hand touched her shoulder, she flinched. An electric shock raced through her, and it seemed that Benedict had felt it too. The moment she jerked back, Benedict's hands quickly snatched away. He held them up in front of him in a small sign of surrender, like he meant her no harm.

Funny. Given he’d threatened her with so much the last time they spoke. 

“Sorry,” he quickly said. 

Sophie shook her head and quickly pushed up, getting back onto her feet as she found herself standing before him, the folders and papers pressed tightly against her chest. She hugged them tightly against her chest, hoping they would keep her grounded. 

As they stood there, awkwardly, neither one of them speaking, Sophie tried to figure out a way to escape. To get away from Benedict before he realized it was her. But she couldn’t help but glance towards him once more. Wanting to get a better look at him. Needing to confirm once more it was really him.

And it was. It all looked the same. Except for one small thing. 

There was a scar on his forehead. Old and faded, it had healed well judging by how she’d almost missed it, how it blended into the skin on the corner of his forehead. She’d barely even noticed the shiny line on the side of his forehead that went from his hairline and then down over his eyebrow in a curved half moon shape, but it was there and it certainly hadn’t been there the last time she’d seen him.

Had something happened? Had he hurt himself since they last saw one another? A pang of worry stabbed into her stomach as she thought over what might have occurred, what might have happened to leave him with such a large scar, before she quickly stopped herself, frowning. 

Why would she care about that? Why on earth would she care about Benedict’s health after he’d so cruelly tossed her aside? What was wrong with her? 

“Ah, there you are,” Sophie heard Agatha’s voice call out behind her. 

Quickly turning, Sophie found her boss being wheeled towards them by Theo.

Oh, thank God. An escape. 

“And I see you’ve met one of our partners. Good, we can’t get the introductions over with now,” Agatha remarked as she was brought over to them. She waved a hand at Theo to stop pushing her chair and he stopped. “Sophie, if I can introduce you to Mr. Benedict Bridgerton. He’s one of Edmund’s sons. I told you about Edmund? How his sons work here as well? Well, Benedict is his second born, and my third favorite Bridgerton.”

Sophie didn’t know how to tell her she already knew him, but her tongue was currently too tied up for her to speak. And she frankly, didn’t think it was a good idea to say anything at the moment. Praying silently, that Agatha wouldn’t give her away. 

“Benedict, this is Ms. Sophia Baek,” Agatha continued. 

Fuck . 

Sophie’s eyes snapped towards Benedict, looking to see how he would react. But once again, there was nothing. Then he blinked. 

“Oh! The new assistant,” he said, then held his hand out towards her. “Nice to meet you.”

Sophie stared down at the hand held out in front of her, waiting for her to take it, even more confused now than before. Then stared up at Benedict in disbelief. Looking at him, she still saw no sign of recognition. 

I don’t know why you got the assumption I cared about you, but you need to move on. It’s over.

So this is how he was going to act? As if they hadn’t spent almost a year being romantically involved. As if they didn’t have a child together. A child he knew about and had willingly abandoned. He was just going to pretend they didn’t know each other? 

From this point on, we’re nothing more than strangers. 

That almost hurt more than when he told her he never wanted to see her again. Almost. 

Fine, she could play along. Even though it felt like an ice pick was currently being repeatedly rammed into her heart. Ignorance and denial were far easier to manage than anger or threats. And it wasn’t like she was in a position to be sacrificing this job.  

Straightening up her back and holding her head high, swallowing down the pain and heartbreak currently making its way up her throat, Sophie maneuvered the folders into the crook of one of her arms so she could reach out with the other and take his hand. 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” she said simply and gave his hand a light shake before quickly letting go. 

“I told you how Benedict’s father and I started this firm together almost forty years ago,” Agatha explained from where she sat in her wheelchair. “Wonderful man he was. Competent too. His sons are almost as good as he was.” 

And it finally hit her. Agatha had said her former colleague was called Edmund, as in Edmund Bridgerton . She hadn’t even noticed how he shared the same name as Benedict’s deceased father, who he’d told her had also been a solicitor and had founded the firm he worked at. A firm whose name Sophie had forgotten after so many years. 

Bridgebury Counsel, as in bridge for Bridgerton and bury for Danbury. Benedict had joked to her once the name was a play on his father and the co-founder’s last names. 

Meaning Sophie was now employed at the same place as Benedict. The place Benedict’s family had partial ownership over. 

Shit.

“You wound me, Lady Danbury,” Benedict commented, his famed crooked smile making an appearance. Sophie let out a breath when she saw it, her heart stuttering almost to a stop. 

Agatha scoffed. “You need thicker skin then. And don’t call me ‘Lady’. The last thing we need is to confuse the interns.” 

They continued their conversation with ease, as Sophie’s mind began to spiral. The realization of what was happening, of the situation she’d gotten herself into, was beginning to make her panic. Her heart was still racing and everything around her felt like it was suddenly closing in. She felt lightheaded. Overwhelmed. Petrified. She needed to sit down. 

“Theo, why don’t you give Ms. Baek a hand with those files,” Agatha suggested, snapping Sophie suddenly from her panicked thoughts. 

“I’ve got it from here, Theo,” Benedict said in response, stepping towards the wheelchair to grab the push handles sticking out of the chair’s back. 

Theo quickly nodded and stepped aside, before coming over to Sophie and taking about half of the stack of folders held in her arms. The weight suddenly cut in half, Sophie was able to properly lift up the remaining files and hold them against her chest, nervously glancing around to see if there was an exit she could quickly slip out of.

“Come along, Ms. Baek,” Agatha ordered lightly before Sophie could even attempt an escape. 

Hesitantly, Sophie followed behind them, walking at the same pace as Benedict as he pushed Agatha’s wheelchair down the hallway towards the conference rooms. 

“So, where are you from?” Benedict politely asked her.

“I’m sorry?” she asked back, confused. 

“Where did you grow up?” Benedict said, clarifying as he repeated his question. 

“Um…I grew up in Hampstead,” she answered, carefully. 

“Oh, nice. My mother grew up there too. Her parents lived near Hampstead Heath,” he told her. “Did you go to school in the area?”

She shook her head. “Boardschool. Up near Scotland.”

Benedict knew this. She’d told him where she’d gone to school when they were together. She still knew where he’d gone. Eton and then Cambridge. His brothers had gone to Oxford instead. 

Had he really cared so little about her? That he could forget so easily? 

“And what did you do before coming here?” Benedict then asked. 

“I was a temp,” she answered. “I got sent around to a lot of places.” 

Odd jobs here and there. Mainly in offices, and usually to cover someone's maternity leave. She tended only to be in one place for a few weeks to a few months, and she wouldn’t know where she was going until the agency told her. It had been a nightmare at times, especially when she had to go to the opposite side of the city on such short notice, but it was the only place that would hire her. 

Other than that, she’d briefly worked part time at the Crabtree’s restaurant after Charles was born. Still did a few hours here and there on the weekend to help out, but with them already letting her live with them, Sophie hadn’t felt comfortable taking money from their only source of income, so she went to the temp agency once Charles was big enough for daycare. And after the lawsuit, she’d rented out My Cottage under the guidance from the Crabtrees and her solicitor so that she could have some money while she waited for the temp agency to place her. 

“We’re did you study?” Benedict then asked. 

“Um…the London School of Economics, but I never finished,” she answered, puzzled now by his line of questioning. 

She’d had to drop out when Charles was born. She’d tried to keep up with it, with the school work and attending classes, but with a new baby and the lawsuit finally being over with, everything had become a bit too much to handle at the time. 

But more importantly, he should also know that .

“Oh! Can I ask why?” Benedict then asked and Sophie frowned.

Because I had a child. Your child . She thought to herself, starting to feel annoyance creeping up her spine. A frown forming on her face.

“A family matter came up,” she said instead. 

“That’s a shame. Have you thought about going back?” 

“It’s a little difficult for me right now.”

“Well, if you decide to go back, you’re welcome to talk to my brother Colin. He dropped out during his first year to travel, but decided to go back and get a writing degree,” Benedict told her. “I’m sure he’d be welcome to explain the process.”

“I uh…I’ll think about it,” Sophie replied, politely. What the hell was he playing at?

“Stop interrogating the woman, Benedict,” Agatha suddenly ordered over her shoulder. “I don’t need you scaring off my new assistant.”

Benedict smiled. “Am I not allowed to make small talk?”

“No,” Agatha replied curtly. “You and your brother have caused me enough grief, scaring off interns and potential partners these past few years. If it wasn’t for Kate’s ironfist grip over the two of you, I’d be six feet under by now trying to find employees to replace the ones you dismissed. So, you will leave Ms. Baek alone.” 

But Benedict only chuckled. Seeing Sophie’s nervous look, he only smiled.

“Don’t worry,” he said lightly. “My brother is far worse than me.”

Oh, she already knew that. Quite well. 

But she just returned his smile with a polite one of her own, hoping it was concealing her building fear and anxiety. Not to mention, the growing rage she felt in the pit of her stomach, slowly eating away at her patience. Maybe if she remained quiet, he would go back to conversing with Agatha instead of her. 

And he did. As she followed him and Agatha into the conference room, walking as if in a daze, as if trapped in thick dense fog behind them, the pair spoke about the upcoming case. About memos and reports that would need to be written up. Clients and witnesses that needed to be spoken with. Speaking the way colleagues would, and completely unaware of the panicking spiral Sophie was currently descending through behind them. 

“Um…is there a bathroom nearby?” she finally asked, weakly, realizing she needed to calm herself down or else she was going to pass out.

Agatha hummed. “Oh, yes. It’s down the hall and then turn left.”

Sophie nodded back her understanding, before quickly fleeing out of the room, heading down the hall, following the directions Agatha gave her. She hastily slipped into the women’s restroom, before beelining quickly for one of the stalls and locking herself in. As soon as she was locked in, she began to take deep breaths. 

Hands pressed against the stall on either side, Sophie began focusing on her breathing. Deep calming breaths. Breathing in. Hold it. Then out. Breathing in. Hold it for five seconds. Then breathe out. And repeat. 

Over and over again, until her heart was no longer trying to burst through her sternum. 

What the hell was she going to do?

She couldn’t continue working here. Not with Benedict as one of her superiors . It would be too risky. Too awkward. Too dangerous. He could get her fired at any moment.

But could she really just quit? Leave a job that was giving her a better pay than any she’d worked before. A job that was giving her the ability to support herself and Charles, that would provide a better future for her son. Not to mention, she’d only just started working here. Agatha had done her a service by not only hiring her, but helping get her son into a better school. A school Sophie wasn’t going to be able to afford unless she continued working at Bridgebury. 

She’d be back to square one if she left. Maybe even worse off if she was honest. She didn’t want to go back to the temp agency and she did not want to take more money from the Crabtrees. But if she continued here, she’d be stuck dealing with Benedict. Seeing him. And she wasn’t entirely sure if her heart could handle that, even after so many years apart. It had yet healed from the heartbreak he’d left her with. 

But, if she worked here for a year, she’d probably be able to get some savings and the experience needed to find a different stable job somewhere else. And Benedict was currently acting as if he didn’t know her. Maybe he wanted to keep it that way? If he wasn’t going to get in the way of her working here then there wasn’t much of a reason to leave. 

One year then. She’d stay at Bridgebury till her contact was up. She’d spend the next twelve months getting her finances in order so that she and Charles would be okay, and learning as much as she could so she could update her resume and find a job elsewhere. 

She could do this. Sophie took another deep breath. She could get through this. 

As long as Benedict didn’t make this difficult for her.

Returning to the conference room, Sophie found another person had already arrived at the meeting. A woman with dark amber skin and cat-like eyes was conversing with Benedict by a small table which had been set up to hold coffee and supplies. Her dark hair was in a long, elegant braid, resting over her shoulder, and she was dressed in a dark, wine purple pants suit. She was the picture of grace and beauty, an air of confidence and assertiveness surrounded her, and from the way she spoke with Benedict she seemed to know him.

And Sophie remembered her, they’d met briefly the last time she was here for her training, she just couldn’t remember her name.

“Ah, Ms. Baek, this is–” Benedict started as he saw her approach. 

“Kate Sharma,” the woman said immediately, putting her hand out to shake Sophie’s. “We met when you were here signing paperwork.” 

“Yes, I remember,” Sophie said with a polite smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Agatha’s had so many wonderful things to say about you,” Kate said with a bright smile. “My office is right around the corner from here if you ever need me. I look forward to working with you in the future, Ms. Baek.”

“Same to you,” Sophie replied. “And please, Sophie’s fine.”

“ Sophie ?” a new voice asked behind her and Sophie stiffened instinctually. 

If she thought she would have passed out earlier seeing Benedict, this was much worse. Because she knew that voice. It belonged to someone so much worse. 

Rosamund Li. 

Looking over her shoulder to confirm, Sophie found her former stepsister standing in the door, a look of genuine shock on her face as she stared at Sophie. 

Much like Benedict, her former stepsister hadn’t changed since Sophie last saw her. Her dark hair was still pin straight and falling down to her mid back. Still styled in the same manner, loose with the soft bangs, some of her hair pulled and tied back with a white ribbon, which matched her chic yet youthful outfit. Pink had been Rosamund’s signature color, and the blazer and pleated skirt in a matching blush color made her the most colorful person in a room full of dark suits. She looked youthful and out of place at such a place like Bridgebury. Which begged the question, what was she doing here?

And she stared at Sophie as if she’d just seen a ghost. She looked almost as nervous as Sophie felt.

But then the worrisome shock quickly faded to a bright smile.

“Sophie, ohmigod, how are you?” her former stepsister asked as she came over and enveloped Sophie in a quick hug, all while Sophie stood there unmoving. 

“You know one another?” Agatha remarked, with a brow raised.

“Sophie’s my sister,” Rosamund cheerfully replied as she pulled away.

“Stepsister,” Sophie corrected softly, swallowing down her fears, before adding. “ Former stepsister.”

“My mother married Sophie’s father when we were little, we practically grew up together,” Rosamund told the others, linking her arm with Sophie’s, giving her arm a tight, painful squeeze that forced Sophie to bite her cheek as she grimaced. “But we lost touch after her father died and she was sent to live with her godparents. It was such a shame. My mother was desperate to keep us all together but Sophie’s godparents wouldn’t relent. We lost touch after that. It was terrible, we used to be so close .”

As she said the last sentence, she glanced over at Sophie and gave her a bright, fake smile, her eyes glinting with sly mischief as if tempting her to retort what she’d just said. Rosamund had always liked being the center of attention and knew very well how to shift things to her favor. It was a game she’d played with Sophie many times, in public, with Araminta, at school. And it had always cost Sophie her reputation or, with Araminta, her freedom.

So, she wasn’t going to play that game. Not today.

Straightening her back, Sophie took a deep breath. 

“I’m glad to see you are doing well for yourself. How is your mother?” she asked politely, forcing a smile

“Well. She’ll be so happy when she finds out you're working here now,” Rosamund said and Sophie took another deep breath. 

Her former stepsister’s smile widened, becoming more sharklike as she held Sophie’s stare. Sophie was smart enough to read through the lines. The underlying threat that was there. She knew, under no circumstances, would Araminta be happy to hear about her life. And she personally didn’t want Araminta knowing where she worked, lived, or her life in general. Given she knew exactly what to expect from her former stepmother. Demands and threats for more money from the will that had left her nothing.

But most importantly, Sophie did not want her stepmother to find out about Charles.

She also knew that, according to the lawsuit, Araminta was barred from communicating with or coming near Sophie unless through the solicitors, and, besides Agatha, nobody at the firm knew she even had a child. Even HR didn’t know. The papers they had her fill out didn’t mention if she had dependents, only if she was married or single. 

She just needed to be careful now. That’s all. 

“Well, what a small world,” Kate commented with a smile. 

“We have to catch up,” Rosamund told Sophie, sliding her arm out from Sophie’s and stepping away. “Maybe we can get lunch one of these days.”

“Maybe,” Sophie replied, lying through her teeth. 

“If we are done reminiscing, I suppose we can start on our meeting,” Agatha remarked, not as cheerful as Kate. She’d taken out her golden spectacles and put them back on, beginning to review the file Kate had given her. 

“I’ll have to tell Posy too,” Rosamund told Sophie as she stepped away. “She works here too, you know. She’ll be so excited when she finds out.”

So, maybe Sophie hadn’t hallucinated Posy. If Posy’s older sister was here, it was likely the younger Li sister was somewhere nearby.

Rosamund flashed her one more sharp smile over her shoulder as she followed Benedict to where he took his seat across from Agatha but next to Kate, quickly taking the free chair next to him. Graceful enough in her moments, it was still evident she was trying to take the chair before Sophie or anyone else could. 

Forcing her legs to move, Sophie headed towards the free chair next to Agatha and sat down, praying the meeting wouldn’t take too long. That her heart rate would finally return to normal. And she prayed that no one else from her past was going to walk through the doors and surprise her. Things tended to always happen in threes. 

—

The rest of the meeting went fine, even though Sophie was barely listening.

The entire time she sat next to Agatha she could feel Rosamund’s eyes on her. She ignored her though, not daring to look over in their direction. Where she knew Benedict was sitting right next to her. Instead, focusing on taking notes and writing down tasks she’d need to complete whenever Agatha told her she needed x or y or z done. The only time she focused on Benedict was when he was explaining parts of the case and what they’d need to do to help the client, but even then kept her eyes on her notepad and not on him. 

She’d also learned, during the meeting, why Rosamund was at Bridgebury. She was Benedict’s personal assistant. And from the way she spoke to him during the meeting, they seemed close. She always complimented him after he spoke and leaned over to whisper to him quietly during the meeting, as if they were old friends.

Sophie tried not to let it get the best of her. Watching the woman who had, along with Araminta, made her childhood and adolescents hell be close with her former flame was just another punch to the gut. And another thing that had sent her panic raging like a forest fire. If Benedict and Rosamund were close, had he told her about Sophie? About the son they had together? 

Once the meeting was over, Sophie had hoped she could quickly flee back upstairs and hide at her desk, Agatha held her back to meet some of the other solicitors and partners, those who’d arrived a little late to the meeting, before asking her to take her case files up and leave them on her desk. As she gathered up the files, Sophie had taken everyone else leaving as a sign she might just get upstairs without dealing with any more discomfort. But it was just her luck that when she finally made it to the elevator, Benedict and Rosamund were standing there. 

“Heading up?” Benedict asked, flashing her a polite smile.

She nodded. “Yes.”

Behind him, Rosamund glared at her, looking annoyed that Sophie would be joining them in the elevator. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips pulled back in a disgusted sneer. But the moment Benedict turned away from Sophie to enter the elevator, the look disappeared from Rosamund’s face and she quickly flashed Sophie a fake smile, before flipping her long hair back over her shoulder and following Benedict in.

Deep breaths, Baek. Deep breaths.

It was silent. The ride up. Sophie and Rosamund stood on either side of Benedict. Benedict, who seemed completely oblivious to the tension around him, eyes watching the number change above the doors from five to six, before there was a ding and they opened. With only one floor, the awkward wait was, mercifully, not that long.

And seeing her only opportunity for an escape, Sophie quickly slipped past them both and headed towards her desk, trying to keep her head down as she did, only to be prevented in this by Benedict.

“Ms. Beak. A word if you don’t mind,” Benedict said to her as she started to head towards Agatha’s office.

Sophie stopped dead in her tracks. Her grip on the files tightening as she slowly turned to look at him once more.

“Sorry?” she asked, as if she hadn’t heard him. 

“If I can speak to you for a moment. Privately,” he added and Sophie was sure her heart finally stopped.

Oh no . 

Rosamund was staring at the back of Benedict’s head, looking as panicked and as confused as Sophie was. And also a little annoyed. 

“But Ben, we have a lot of work to do,” she pointed out carefully.

“I’m aware. I just need to speak with Ms. Beak about something,” Benedict replied simply.

“But the cases? We still have to review the Fife file and there are forms that still need your signature for the business trip coming up,” Rosamund said, starting to list various tasks that needed to be done.

“I just need a–” Benedict started. 

“You said you wanted to show me how you wanted the layout to look for the memos moving forward,” Rosamund cut in, sounding rather childish now as she spoke to him.

Benedict then sighed. “And I will, Rosamund. I just need a moment with Ms. Baek. It won’t take long,” he told her. He sounded annoyed now. 

“But Ben–” Rosamund started with a whine.

“Don’t you have work to do while you wait?” he interrupted her suddenly, voice suddenly cold and biting. Almost snappish. It even took Sophie by surprise hearing him sound like that, now frowning up at him as Benedict continued. “It should only take me a minute to speak with Ms. Baek. There is a list of things you can do while you wait, such as get me the memo for the Fife trial I asked you to type up. After the grievous error you made this morning, you might want to make sure everything else I asked you for is in order.”

A red hue quickly developed on Rosamund’s face as she looked away, embarrassed. Her confidence seemed to bleed out of her as she frowned. Sophie knew better than most that Rosamund had always escaped punishment when they’d been growing up. Had always found a way to shift the narrative in her favor, to put blame on others (usually Sophie) and get herself forgiven rather quickly. 

Sophie almost felt bad for her. More so because she was now stuck awkwardly standing next to them witnessing this than anything else. 

And it certainly made her wonder how close they really were. If Benedict had no issue speaking to her in such a manner.

“Apologies, Mr. Bridgerton. I’ll get right on it,” Rosamund said, flatly, and with that she disappeared down the hall and around the corner. Fleeing in the direction that most likely led to Benedict’s office. 

Benedict watched her, glowering, until she disappeared around the corner. Then he took a deep breath and flashed Sophie a small, polite smile.

“Sorry about that,” he told her.

“Was there something you needed to say to me?” she asked warily. 

“Oh right. Just so you know–” 

Here it comes. Sophie braced herself for the threats she was about to get, for Benedict to tell her how he knew exactly who she was and what he would do to her if she tried anything. She prayed she was able to hide her fearful grimace. 

“Danbury is a big fan of chocolate.”

She blinked. Then frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“Agatha. She says she doesn’t have a sweet tooth but there are these chocolate scones the cafe down the street sells that she adores. I’m pretty sure she’d kill a man just to get her hands on them,” Benedict then chuckled. “I sometimes buy breakfast for the partners and I realized she would snatch them up before anyone else did. And, after I realized, I refused to tell her where I got them from. It infuriates her to no end.”

“And you’re telling me…why?” Sophie asked, slowly, confused.

“Easiest way to get back in her good grace,” Benedict said with a smile. “And the easiest way to get on her good side. The cafe is called Tiny Delights. It’s about a block away from here. If you ever need it, I’m welcome to grab you some on my way in and give them to you. You can pretend they’re from you.”

“Oh…um,” Sophie stumbled over what to say. “Thanks.”

Why on earth was he doing this? 

“No problem. If you ever need anything else Ms. Baek, my office is right down that hall,” he told her, pointing over his shoulder in the direction Rosamund had just gone in. 

“Yeah, got it,” she replied awkwardly, wishing for him to just finally leave so she could get back to her desk. Utterly, utterly confused as to what was happening right now. 

“Well, I’m certain we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” Benedict said lightly with a smile, flashing her crooked smile she’d always loved.

She nodded again, still not looking at him unless she had too. Benedict gave a quick goodbye and headed off with a small wave, disappearing around the corner and leaving her standing in the small hallway. Alone. 

In a daze, Sophie headed back to her new desk. Files still clutched against her chest. Trying to process the conversation she’d just had. Benedict still wasn’t letting on to knowing her. Was he ever going to?

It was fine. Everything would be fine. If he was going to pretend like everything was normal, that they didn’t know each other, then she would be fine. She could just keep working here like nothing had happened. And she only had to be here for a while, then she could start looking for jobs elsewhere. 

All she had to do was avoid Benedict and make sure that no one found out about Charles. She could do this. 

Only, a few minutes later, after she’d sat down and tried to get started on the tasks Agatha had asked her to complete, trying to distract herself, did Sophie realize what Benedict had said.

Benedict’s office was on the same floor as Agatha’s. Meaning, they would be seeing a lot of each other. Constantly. Every day possibly. There was no possible way she’d be able to avoid him. 

Shit .

Chapter Text

| Six Years Ago |

Benedict couldn’t believe it. He was going to be a father. 

And he’d been vibrating with excitement ever since Sophie had told him. Ever since he'd learned he was having a child with her. It had only added to his joy.  

Ever since he’d met her, Benedict had found himself slowly falling further and further in love with her. Sophia Baek, a woman he’d met by sheer chance in a pub one night. A tingling sensation reverberating through him as he’d entered the pub that night, before his eyes had fallen on her petite form, hidden away in the back of the room, nursing a pint of beer as she chatted with her friends. 

There hadn’t been much he could do to stop himself moving across the room. Drawn towards her like a moth to a flame, he’d appeared at her side and started a conversation with her instead of turning around and heading to wear Eloise’s birthday celebration was being held. A conversation that had led to an exchange of numbers. His life hadn’t been the same since that night.  

And now she was having his child. 

They’d spent the rest of the day discussing their next steps. He’d taken the rest of the day off and convinced Sophie to do the same, to skip her afternoon classes so they could stay home at her apartment and plan. Benedict had made sure that Sophie knew he would support her no matter what she decided, but wouldn’t deny the joyous relief he felt when Sophie decided she would keep the baby. He’d stayed with her, holding her hand as she scheduled an appointment with the OB/GYN, luckily getting one for the next day.

Then he stayed with her until it was dark out. Until she decided to go to bed. Until she was pushing him out the door and making him return to his apartment, telling him she would be fine and that he should go home and get some sleep himself, even though Benedict wanted nothing but to stay by her side. 

But being forced to go home gave Benedict time to plan and think. He barely slept that night. Too excited to sleep, he spent most of the night wondering about the little baby growing inside of Sophie, wondering – hoping – it would be a little girl. A little girl who would look just like her mother. 

And while he hoped for a daughter, Benedict knew he’d love and cherish the little babe regardless of their gender. The mere thought of them left Benedict grinning like a fool anyway.

A kid. And a kid that was going to be arriving pretty soon. He was going to be a father in less than nine months.

As he prepared to meet Sophie at the doctor’s office the next morning, Benedict went to the safe hidden away in his bedroom, and pulled out the ring box he’d been storing in it for weeks. 

An emerald ring belonging to his late and favorite grandmother, Benedict had planned to propose to Sophie with it on their one year anniversary, but after the unexpected news , he’d decided to speed up that plan. He wanted to make sure Sophie knew he was one hundred percent invested in her and this child, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her no matter what happened.

He knew it would come as a surprise to his family, suddenly getting engaged and having a child. Benedict hadn’t told them he was dating, and hadn’t introduced Sophie to any of them yet, out of fear his family’s petulance for chaos would scare her off. He did not want his family meddling in his private affairs knowing exactly how all of them would act if he said he was seeing someone. He loved his family, he really did, and he knew they loved him, but he also did not need to be constantly harassed and interrogated about his romantic relationships. 

(He had planned to introduce Sophie to them before he proposed, but, much like that plan, things weren’t playing out as he intended them to)

And he knew they would all love her as much as he did. 

But the pregnancy had also convinced him to do something else besides proposing. Besides finally telling his family about Sophie. Something more drastic than that. 

Such as quitting his job. 

It had been a long time coming if he was honest. Probably started the moment he actually began working full time at the family firm. Meeting Sophie had just been the final nail in that coffin. He hated his job. He’d only become a solicitor to make Anthony happy, only choosing to go into law as a result of their father’s sudden death, and after years of working at Bridgebury he’d found himself burned out and overwhelmed. He needed change and Sophie, the pregnancy, the baby, was exactly what he needed. What he wanted. 

Which reminded him. He should probably call and check in with her.

“Hello?” Sophie’s sweet voice rang through from the other end as she picked up the phone. 

“Good morning beautiful,” he returned cheerfully. “How are you feeling?” 

“Oh! Morning, Ben. I’m…I’m okay,” she replied simply.  

“Any symptoms?” 

“I’m fine.”

“Sophie…”

“I…I just had a little nausea this morning. It was nothing too bad.”

Benedict sighed. He should have stayed over last night. He could have taken better care of her, but Sophie had assured him he didn’t need to. And he hadn’t pushed it because she’d sounded like she wanted some time alone. He knew she was in a vulnerable state and hadn’t wanted to push her too hard. 

“Well, I’ll make sure to have some ginger ale and crackers on me when I see you later,”  he told her, cheerfully, trying to keep the mood light.

“I’m fine, Benedict. You don’t need to worry about me,” she assured him. 

“You’re carrying our baby, Soph. I’m going to worry. About both of you,” he replied.

“I know…thank you,” Sophie returned. 

“I’ll see you at noon?” Benedict said, smiling as he walked towards his car. “Alright?”

“Yes. Noon,” Sophie replied, before nervously adding. “I love you.”

His smile only widened. “I love you too. See you later.”

One more exchange of goodbyes and the call ended. As he scrolled through his phone, looking for his message chain with his brother, he couldn’t help but slip his hand into his pocket and grab the small, velvet, ring box and pull it out, flipping it open so he could give the emerald and diamond engagement ring sitting snugly inside another once over. 

Currently, he was planning to show it to her after the appointment, to ask her if she would become not only the mother of his children but also his wife. 

His plan right now, overall, was to spend the rest of his life with her. And their child. 

All he needed to do now was quit his job and tell his brother he was leaving the firm. To give his brother the resignation letter he’d written up the night prior. And to do all that, he just needed to send the text message he’d been writing and rewriting since making his decision. 

Hey. Are you free sometime today? I need to talk to you about something. It's important.

Benedict knew Anthony wouldn’t take the news well (and that he would eventually get over it) but that didn’t matter to Benedict anymore. His brother’s expectations of him weren’t what mattered. Sophie was what mattered. What was more important to him then anything else in the world. The baby was more important to him than what his older brother thought of his career and life choices.

And he had enough money in savings (and in his trust) to be able to take care of Sophie and the baby while he figured out the next steps. Maybe he’d get back into painting. Sophie had been encouraging him ever since he told her he’d abandoned it after discovering his acceptance at the Royal Academy had been bought by his brother. He couldn’t ignore that being around her had led to him drawing more.

He could deal with Anthony being pissed at him. Because what mattered to him right now was Sophie, the child growing inside her – his child – and the future he was planning to have with her. 

But he never got the chance to send it. 

The revving of an engine suddenly blared in his ears, followed by the screeching sounds of tires braking hard, and he found himself freezing in place, suddenly unable to see, bright lights of a car’s head beams blinding him as he senses were overwhelmed. 

And then he was in the air. Flying over the car as it struck him, his body bouncing violently over the windshield and against the metal roof till he slammed against the concrete floor of the parking garage with a hard thud . 

His entire body was throbbing, every nerve in his body suddenly firing pulses of pain through him. He was pretty sure he was bleeding, his forehead felt wet and sticky, and his chest was tight. Like a heavy, metal band had been wrapped around his chest and was now squeezing down on his insides, pressing on his ribcage and lungs. It was hard to breathe. All he could do was let out wheezing breaths, with every inhale making him feel like his insides were on fire. Something inside him felt broken. A lot of things felt broken, electrified pain radiating through every corner of his body. The pounding of his brain against his skull reverberated down his spine and in his ears. It was agony.

The last thing he heard was a car door slamming and the clicking of heels as someone came towards him. The last thing he saw was someone crouching down and picking up the velvet ring box lying in the blood and broken glass in front of him. The box had opened, the ring sitting safely inside shiny back at him. He tried to reach out for it. It was his not theirs. It was the ring he was going to give to…to someone. Right? He was pretty sure it was for someone important and–

What was it for again? Everything hurt so much it was hard to think. Why was he on the floor? What happened? Where was he? His head was killing him and it was becoming difficult to think. Something was wrong. He couldn’t breathe properly, couldn’t move either, but he needed to go. Get somewhere. He needed to call–

| Present Day |

Benedict was about to have a stroke. 

Pinching his nose enough he might just break it if he squeezed any harder, he took a deep breath, knowing if he didn’t the next few words to come out of his mouth would be in a yell. 

“Rosamund,” he started slowly. “Please tell me you did not send those documents to the defending attorney instead of our client.” 

“Was I not supposed to?” his assistant asked, confused. “They had his name on them.” 

Benedict groaned, letting his face then fall into his hands. 

Kate was going to kill him when she found out. When he got back from his business trip, Anthony was going to kill him. And they were only going to get a shot at him if Danbury didn’t find out first and throw him from the roof of the building or into the Thames with a heavy anchor around his ankle. 

He was screwed. 

“Rosamund. I told you those files were strictly for the office’s eyes only,” Benedict said, trying not to let his anger get the best of him. 

Rosamund pouted, biting her barbie pink lip and giving him a look that seemed more sexy than it did apologetic. “I’m sorry, Ben. It was an accident.”

“Can you just…” He sighed. He hated when she called him Ben. “Just go work on something else. I need a minute alone to figure out how I’m going to deal with this.”

“But–” Rosamund started.

“ Go !” he ordered, a bit more forcefully this time. Another deep breath, before he started yelling. 

Rosamund sighed, a sad breathless little sound that made her seem like an abandoned kitten and a sigh that would have most men stumbling over themselves in an effort to help her, but Benedict had known her long enough now that it didn’t work (not that it ever had). He knew she did it in an attempt to garner sympathy. 

Sympathy he was not in the mood to give her right now. 

“Go,” he ordered again sternly, and Rosamund let out an annoyed huff this time, realizing her attempt to placate him had failed. She then flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder and briskly exited the room, returning to her desk which was outside his. 

He sighed as the door to his office clicked shut, slumping down in his chair and letting his head fall back. Of all the things she could have done. Today of all days. Now he had to deal with Berbooke’s gloating on top of all the other cases he was handling right now, and worrying about his colleagues having his ass for letting this fuck up happened. 

He was exhausted already and his day had barely even started. He hadn’t been sleeping well the past few weeks. Granted, he hadn’t had a good night sleep ever since his coma years before. It was either dreamless, where he woke up still feeling exhausted, or no sleep at all. Like his brain wouldn’t relax long enough for his body to slip into REM sleep. Always feeling like he was forgetting something and he couldn’t sleep till he remembered what it was.

But he always felt like he was forgetting something. 

Which wasn’t a surprise, he had four years worth of memories still missing from his brain. There might as well have been a big glaring hole in skull when they did the follow up MRI after he woke up from his coma with a neon sign pointing to it which said ‘Memories from the age of 23-27 go here.’ Every second from his final year of university to waking up in the hospital after his hit and run was gone, as if wiped clean from his brain. 

He was thirty-two now, and still nothing from that four year period had come back to him. No memories of family holidays or birthdays, his graduation, his first few cases after starting out at Bridgebury had returned. The doctor had told him there was a chance after he woke up that they’d slowly trickle back, but after six years, that possibility was becoming less and less likely with each passing day. 

Rubbing his hands over his face in an effort to wake himself up, Benedict glanced up at the clock hanging over his office door. He still had time before the meeting. If he headed down now, he could probably catch Kate in her office. If he wanted any of them to know first, it was Kate. She would at least help him strategize a way to fix this. The others would just lecture him. For hours . He’d never hear the end of it.

Hoping out of his chair, Benedict slipped out of his office, quickly passing Rosamund before she had a chance to plead her case with him again and headed towards the elevator. A few minutes later, he was stepping out onto the fifth floor and headed down the hall. As he headed towards Kate’s office, practically everyone he passed stepped out of his way, making sure not to make eye contact with him as they passed.

Which Benedict only rolled his eyes at. He knew he’d garnered a reputation for being cold and direct with the other solicitors and paralegals, but he didn’t think he was that terrifying. Anthony could be ten times worse than him when he wanted to. Granted, he’d mellowed out since getting married. 

And it helped that even after marrying his brother, Kate refused to back down. On anything. 

She’d even refused to move her office after marrying Anthony, saying she was quite happy with the space she had and that she frankly enjoyed making her husband take the elevator down to see her (since she had no intention of going up to him), saying it would do Anthony some good if he was actually seen by his employees. It would probably help them to not fear him as much. 

Which was probably now Benedict’s job too. Not that he did much to deter it. 

Closing the door to her office with a soft click , he turned to face his sister-in-law, who merely raised a dark brow up at him from behind her desk, barely looking up from her work. 

“Baby break?” she asked, knowingly. 

He sighed. “Please tell me you brought Miles today?”

Kate nodded her head towards the space behind her desk. A space Benedict knew had a portable baby bassinet set up in. Quickly moving across the room and around the desk, Benedict found his little nephew peacefully laying in the bassinet. When his dark eyes caught Benedict’s, Miles began to kick his little legs up and down excitedly, giving his uncle a big, gummy smile. 

“Hello Miles,” Benedict cooed happily, reaching down and scoping his nephew out of the bassinet and into his arms. “How are you?”

“If you can get him to fall asleep you’ll be my favorite brother-in-law forever,” Kate told him as she leaned back in her chair, watching him carry her son over to the chairs in front of her desk and sit down. 

Benedict laughed as he situated Miles so he was comfortably resting in his arms. “Because I’m not already?” 

Kate shrugged. “Well, Gregory did help us move into our new place.”

“I was on a business trip, remember? One that allowed your husband to stay home so he could help with the move,” Benedict reminded her. 

Kate only rolled her eyes back at him, but a fond smile pulled at her lips as she watched him play with her son. Benedict was more than happy to give his little nephew all of his attention, but there was a reason he had come here in the first place. 

“Listen, I’ve got bad news,” he started to tell her, knowing he was throwing himself on the pyre for this. That he might just not make it out of the office alive.

“What now?” 

“Rosamund sent the case documents to Berbooke,” he admitted.

“You’re kidding me?” Kate said, shocked, and Benedict only shook his head. “God damnit !”

“I’m sorry,” Benedict said with a sigh. 

“I wanted those files to wait until we went to litigation. Now he’s going to have the upper hand on us during the–For god’s–” she stopped herself. Taking a deep breath. Then another. And another. Before saying. “Can you please just fire her?”

“Kate–” Benedict started. 

“I mean it. You need to get rid of her,” Kate told him. 

“I can’t,” he replied with an exhausted sigh.

“Why not?”

“Because I promised her–”

“A promise you do not remember giving.”

“Okay, because I owe her then.”

“Ben, it’s been over six years,” Kate pointed out. “I think you’ve more than made it up to her for her help catching the guy who hit you. Not to mention, it is very obvious that she’s still trying to get in your pants.” 

“Seriously?”

Kate took a deep breath. “Yes.”

Benedict failed to hold back his grimace. It wasn’t that Rosamund wasn’t good looking, it was probably the only thing she had going for her. She was just–

Overtly familiar with him.

And Benedict wasn’t really ready to settle down. With anyone. Rosamund was nice, if a little caddy with the other staff at times, and she could do her job well when she tried (which was just not as often as Benedict would like). His problem was that he’d met her type before. The type that was desperate for a last name like Bridgerton instead of actual happiness.

And she wasn't someone he could really bring home. His family had very mixed feelings about her.

His mother liked her, especially after all the help and support she gave his family while he was in his coma. Anthony still felt grateful to her for calling emergency service after she’d witnessed the hit and run, making her the only reason the perpetrator who'd nearly killed his brother being caught.

The rest of his family was a different story. 

Benedict hadn’t heard the end of it since Hyacinth claimed she’d seen Rosamund kick Newton at Anthony and Kate’s wedding. Eloise and Francesca both vehemently disliked her. Eloise had been expected, but Francesca was a surprise. She felt Rosamund only had bad intentions working for him and didn't feel like she was being honest with them. Daphne and Gregory were more neutral, but also leaning towards him firing her since they’d heard him complain enough about her work ethic. Colin didn’t think highly of Rosamund either, and he preferred to be a neutral Switzerland whenever it came to family squabbles, but after having to work with her first hand when he started at Bridgebury, Benedict wasn’t surprised his opinion had quickly become known. 

And, without the knowledge of her dog being kicked, Kate had had a gut reaction to Rosamund the first time they met that had told her not to get close or involved with Benedict’s new assistant. Even her sister Edwina didn't like Rosamund, and Edwina liked everybody. 

It didn’t help that, at times, Rosamund carried a holier than thou attitude towards everyone, as if being his assistant put her in a position of power at the office. Looking down her nose at everyone who wasn’t a Bridgerton and being rude to other employees in the office. Half the office seemed to like her through, but it didn’t mean it didn’t make Benedict look bad. 

“I don’t get it. I don’t understand how she can be so incompetent,” Kate said aloud. “Her sister is a model employee!” 

“Maybe I can have her work with Danbury for a few days. Working for the Iron Lady herself might put a fire under her ass to do better,” Benedict suggested. 

Kate shook her head. “Not likely.”

“Why not?”

“Well, one.” As she spoke Kate held up one finger. “I don’t think Rosamund will better herself for anyone, and that includes you , and, two.” She raised another finger. “Danbury already hired her replacement for Coral. She starts today. Last name was Baek if I recall correctly. I met her very briefly last week when Coral was training her and she was finishing up her employment papers.”

Benedict let his head fall back. “Damnit.” 

“If it matters that much to you, what happens to Rosamund, just transfer her to another department,” Kate suggested. “I’m sure she’ll do far better in media relations then she ever will working in legal.”

“She’ll be fired in less than twenty-four hours if I make her someone else’s assistant,” Benedict pointed out.

“Then you should. Fire. Her. Your. Self.”

“I will…think about it.” 

“Well, don’t take too long thinking about it,” Kate told him. “I appreciate you coming and telling me Benedict, but this cannot keep happening.” 

“Well, I’m grateful you are keeping such a level head about it,” Benedict replied with a soft chuckle.

“Miles is almost asleep. No point in waking him,” was her response.

“I know,” Benedict told her, still smiling.

Kate gave him a supportive smile back, before slowly frowning, seeming to realize something. Her dark eyes glanced down at Miles and then back up at Benedict, then widened in shock. As if a light-bulb had just clicked on above her head. 

“Did you come here to use my son as a shield?” she asked him aghast.

“Technically, I came here for a baby break,” Benedict informed her. “It just so happens that Miles was here today and you don’t yell when Miles is napping.”

“Oh, give me my son back before I whack you,” Kate ordered, jumping up from her chair. 

Benedict gave her a mischievous grin and a sly, over dramatic, evil laugh as he handed back the snoozing Miles, rising from his own chair. Kate glared at him furiously as she took her son and brought him back to his bassinet. 

“Just for that you can take my files for me to the conference room. I have to wait till Alice gets back so she can watch Miles for me,” Kate told him over her shoulder. 

“Aye aye, captain,” Benedict said mockingly as he grabbed the folders, ducking just in time to miss a stuffed tiger Kate had thrown in his direction. He chuckled as he grabbed the two thick folders, saluting Kate as he headed towards the door.

“See you in there,” he called out over his shoulder, knowing she’d be waiting for her assistant to return from her break before she met them at the conference room.

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied as the door closed quietly behind him. 

As Benedict turned, he spotted one of the interns walking by, and quickly deposited the folders in his arms, telling him to drop them off in the conference room. Giving the boy a stern enough glare to scare him into doing it no question. Now that that task was out of the way, he had time to run downstairs and buy a coffee from the cafe in the lobby. He had no interest in drinking what would be served during the meeting, coffee which essentially just tasted like if you left coffee beans sitting in a pot of water overnight. Benedict would never understand why they didn’t just get coffee from the cafe whenever they had meetings, but it wasn’t his department. 

But as he rounded the corner, heading in the direction of the elevators, he slammed into someone hastily moving in the opposite direction. They impacted with enough force Benedict was almost winded, letting out a grunt in surprise, and there was a sudden explosion of papers suddenly flying around him. 

“I’m so sorry,” a feminine voice quickly apologized. 

Before him was a young woman, about a foot shorter than him with a head of dark, inky black hair. She quickly dropped down to her knees and began collecting the papers that had scattered around her. The folders she’d been carrying had landed with a loud thud in front of her.

Benedict didn’t recognize her, but he had a history of not recognizing people. Facial blindness his siblings always teasingly told him, with the memory of a goldfish (and, yes, they still said it now even after he lost four years of memory). The amount of times he’d forgotten a client or old family friend was just embarrassing. Thank god, he’d inherited his father’s charm and good looks, it was the only way Benedict could get through charity events and galas without putting his foot in his mouth.

But this woman was…strange. 

“I wasn’t looking–” she started.

“No worries,” Benedict quickly cut her off. “It was my fault.” 

Usually he’d be annoyed by something like this. Consider it the other person’s fault and move on. It wasn’t his fault, he’d been looking where he should be going, not her apparently. But something was different this time. A tingling sensation rolled down his neck and over his spine, a burst of warmth suddenly spread through his chest. Even without seeing her face the woman seemed…well, she seemed–

She seemed almost familiar. Like deja vu. 

And the woman then looked up at him, eyes widening in surprise as she saw him. Even Benedict was momentarily taken aback, now that he’d gotten the chance to look at her face.

She was gorgeous. With delicate features and high cheekbones. She looked almost fairy-like. Ethereal. Her plump, perfect lips formed a small ‘o’ as she stared up at him with dark eyes the color of mahogany wood. Benedict usually wasn’t thrown off by physical appearances alone, but this was something else. He could feel himself starting to get lost in her eyes. 

Quickly shaking off his surprise, Benedict crouched down and began helping her to gather up the papers. Trying to focus on something else so he didn't just stand there like an idiot. As he grabbed the last one, he quickly got them straightened out and held them out to her.

“Here you go,” he said.

The woman just stared at him. The same expression of surprise on her face, now slowly shifting to confusion. Which was only starting to confuse Benedict if he was honest. 

“Um…are you going to take them?” he asked her, still holding the papers out to her.

The woman blinked, as if snapping back to herself. Then she quickly took the stack of papers from him.

“Oh! Um…yes, sorry,” she told him. 

Placing the papers on her stack of folders and then into her arms, the woman moved to stand but stopped. She shifted the folders into one arm, reaching out to grab the wall with the other so she could pull herself up.

She seemed to Benedict to be struggling a little to get back to her feet. 

“Here, let me help,” he reached forward to help her, but she flinched back, and Benedict only did the same. “Sorry,” he told her, hands held up in surrender, maybe she didn’t want the help.

Slowly, the woman stood back up. An awkward silence quickly descended around them. Neither one was speaking. Benedict was still trying to figure out where he knew her from. 

And the woman glanced around nervously, looking uncomfortable. She must have been mortified about running into him. Benedict suspected she probably knew who he was, most people knew who he was before he knew them. It would be hard for anyone working at Bridgebury to not know who the Bridgertons were, and which ones worked in the building. She probably felt embarrassed. He should probably say something. 

Opening his mouth to speak, to try and assure her it was an accident and to ask her if she needed help getting her mountain of folders to wherever she'd been going, Benedict was beaten to the punch by another voice cutting in.

“Ah, Ms. Baek, there you are.”

Benedict turned and saw Theo wheeling Agatha Danbury down the hallway and towards them. As usual, Agatha had her cane held tightly in one hand, not that she needed it confined to her wheelchair currently. But she looked ready to hit knees and whack anyone who got in her way if needed (not that anyone had the balls to try).

“And I see you’ve met one of our partners. Good, we can’t get the introductions over with now,” Agatha said. “Sophie, if I can introduce you to Mr. Benedict Bridgerton. One of our best. Benedict, this is Ms. Sophia Baek.”

Sophie. That was a pretty name. He always liked the name Sophie. 

And Baek. Kate had mentioned the name to him earlier.

“Oh! The new assistant,” he said aloud, realizing who she was. He stuck his hand out towards her. “Nice to meet you.”

But Sophie just stared at him. Her brows furrowed slightly, looking like a deer in headlights as she stared at him, ready to bolt. 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” she said flatly, voice and face expressionless. She barely gave his hand a shake before quickly letting go, as if she’d just touched something slimy. 

Benedict was…not used to women giving him that kind of reaction. And all it did was intrigue him more.

He soon took over for Theo, who in turn took some of the folders from Sophie to lighten her load. Benedict helped to push Agatha to the conference room, abandoning his plan for better coffee. He could go later. Instead, he tried to make conversation with Sophie, tried to learn a bit more about her, in the hopes she’d say something that would explain where he knew her from. That would put the final piece into the puzzle that was the deja vu he felt whenever he looked at her. But her reaction to his attempts was even stranger. 

She seemed almost insulted by him questioning her. Going from hesitant confusion, as if she didn’t understand why he was talking to her in the first place, to growing increasingly more annoyed with each question he asked her. As if he should already know the answer. Panicked somewhat. And she seemed hellbent on being as far away from him as possible.

What a strange woman. Benedict couldn’t help but find himself more interested in knowing her with each passing moment. And Benedict felt annoyed that he couldn’t figure it out. That he wasn't getting an immediate answer. To where and how he knew Sophie. Like an itch he couldn’t scratch, he just couldn’t place her. 

But if there was one thing Benedict had. It was persistence. He’d figure it out.

Eventually.

Chapter Text

Kate had been dreading pick up all day. She’d spent the better part of the day glancing towards the clock hanging in her office, watching the hands move closer and closer to five pm, when she had to go and pick up her eldest son from aftercare.

Which is when she knew Edmund would kill her.

Her son had been quite furious with her when she’d dropped him off that morning. The days leading up to his first day back at school had been difficult enough, ever since she and her husband had learned that Edmund hated school.

“ They gave me so much work !” He had dramatically lamented one afternoon, head thrown back as he wailed to his father about it, clutching at the short sleeved polo Anthony had been wearing with his tiny fists, all while Kate desperately tried not to laugh.

They’d been sitting on the couch in the living room, watching early morning cartoons, when Kate had asked him if he was excited to be going back to school. To which her son had given her a shocked and stunned look in return. The realization that summer vacation was going to end had sent the little four year old into hysterics, much to his parents' surprise. They’d been under the assumption Edmund had enjoyed his time at nursery, and the summer camp that had followed. 

But Edmund had then spent the next twenty minutes crying, wailing to them about how hard school had been and crying over how hard his school work had been (something Kate hadn’t felt was particularly hard or overwhelming for the little four-going-on-five year old).

“And my hands were so sore ,” he’d added as Anthony gently rubbed his back. “I hate it so much.”

“There, there,” Anthony had replied soothingly, although the expression on his face said he wasn’t that sympathetic to their son’s plight. “It’s alright. Do you want Daddy to help you with your letter exercises?”

“Yes,” Edmund moaned sadly, exhausted by his tears at this point, voice muffled by the shirt he was pressing his face against. 

Since then, Edmund had been hell bent on not going to school, sending himself into a fit of hysterics or tears whenever the subject was brought up. Kate had almost been made sick with worry, and would have if it hadn’t been for Violet assuring her Edmund would be fine after a few days, telling her that Benedict and Daphne had been just as terrible when they had first started going to nursery. 

“Benedict was furious when I dropped him off at his first day of nursery. Oh, it was terrible. He made me feel like I was a horrible mother for leaving him there, even though his brother was with him. As if I was abandoning him. And then he refused to speak to me when I picked him up,” Violet had told her with a laugh. “I was so close to keeping him home another year because of it, until a tiny, little body snuck into my bed that night and apologized. Telling me he was so very sorry for giving me the silent treatment. That he would go to school the next day without complaint.” 

“Mother, please,” Benedict had begged from where he’d been sitting, cheeks bright red with mortification as Violet had only laughed fondly before telling Kate about Daphne’s horrendous first day of school. How, in an act of defiance, little Daphne had cut off all her beautiful strawberry blonde locks to punish her parents for daring to separate her from them and send her to school.

But Kate had still dragged a whining, furious little Edmund Bridgerton-Sharma, who’d been wailing and screaming the entire time, up the front steps of St. Charlotte’s on the first day of school. 

Anthony, the bastard, had been sent away on a last minute business trip to Edinburgh, leaving Kate to deal with a howling, tantrum throwing Edmund all on her own that morning. God bless Mary for coming with her to take photos of her grandsons that morning. She'd been able to leave her with Miles and the stroller outside while she ended up carrying Edmund into the school and dropped him off right in front of his classroom before quickly fleeing the building out a nearby emergency exit before he could grab or run after her.

And now she was patiently waiting for him outside of his school, with Miles peacefully hanging out in the baby stroller in front of her, watching his mother intently with his big amber eyes, happily sucking on three, tiny fingers as he did. The fourth finger, his pinkie, was pressing against his cheek as he suckled on the other three.

“You won’t be difficult, will you?” she asked him, hopeful. “You’ll go to school with no complaints. Right?”

Miles only stared up at her with wide eyes, obviously not processing anything she’d just said. Not that he was able to respond anyway. He merely smiled up at her around his fingers, assuming that since she was talking to him, that was what she had wanted. A sight which only melted Kate’s heart, temporarily putting her at ease. 

Kate sighed fondly. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she told him, and Miles giggled in response, babbling happily back to her in what she could only think was agreement.  

Sighing again, more serious this time, Kate looked up at the front door of St. Charlotte’s. She’d already rung the doorbell to let them know she was here. Now she just had to wait for the teacher to bring him out. Kate could only prepare herself for the furious bat out of hell that was going to be her son the moment those heavy front doors opened. 

And she wouldn’t deny there wasn’t a moment where she worried he may come home with no hair at all.

The moment they opened, Kate straightened up, seeing her eldest appear next to the teacher as the door was pulled back, revealing Edmund to be standing in the hallway with his spiderman backpack. His hair completely intact and untouched.

And he was…happy?

“Hello Amma,” Edmund said sweetly as he approached her, practically skipping as he came to greet her.

Kate frowned. That was not the reaction she was expecting from him. She was expecting tears and fury, relief that he was able to go home, disgust at her for daring to leave him in such a vile place, but he seemed fine. Content. Normal. 

Who was this little boy and what had he done with her son? 

“How was your first day of school?” she asked him, hesitantly, thinking maybe he was just trying to lull her into a false sense of security before exploding into a nuclear level temper tantrum. 

“It was really good. I made a new friend today. His name is Charlie,” Edmund told her, happily as he took her hand. 

“Oh! That’s…that’s good,” Kate commented, feeling a weight being taken off her shoulders. She nodded her goodbyes to the teacher. 

“He saw that I was upset and said that we could play together. It was his first day of school and he told me that he also missed his Mama, but that he knew she’d come and pick him up at the end of the day. Just like you would. And he didn’t cry ever,” Edmund began to excitedly ramble about his day, his new friend, as they started walking away from the school. 

Kate couldn’t help but feel a little flutter of warmth under her heart, the sense of fondness settling in her ribcage as she thought about how sweet it was for another student to help comfort her son. She’d felt horrible leaving Edmund that morning, with tears streaming down his face, but now only felt relief that he’d ended up having such a good time. 

“He’s a little older than me, but because our last names start with B and we get to sit next to each other at the tables,” Edmund continued. “And then Charlie and I played knights and dragons on the playground. And then we shared our lunches too. And then we went to aftercare together because his mama works late too so we got to play even longer.”

“I’m glad you had such a good time,” Kate told him.

“I like Charlie. He’s really fun to play with. And he’s really smart so he helps me with all our school work. Can I have a playdate with him?” Edmund inquired sweetly, looking up at her with those adorable, big, brown eyes he’d gotten from his father, knowing he would be too irresistible for her to resist.

“Well, I suppose you’ll just have to introduce me to him and his Mummy so we can set one up,” she told him sweetly, realizing this Charlie could probably be a good influence on her son. She hoped wherever he was, the little boy was just as excited as her son was at making a friend.

—

“How was your first day of school, Charlie?” Marilla asked as she spooned more rice and meat onto Charles’ plate.

They were sitting in the Crabtree’s cafe, aptly named the Crabtree Cafe , a restaurant her godparent’s had owned and operated for forty years. They’d kept it running by having it be a coffee shop in the morning and a restaurant in the afternoon, with the menu partially inspired by Marilla’s Afro-carribean roots and Thomas’ Korean ones. 

And by now, it was close to the evening rush being over. Whenever Sophie and Charles would meet the Crabtrees for dinner there, they always sat in the back, away from the noise, in a little alcove the restaurant had by the back exit. Marilla and Thomas would take turns checking on the kitchen and the staff while Sophie and Charles ate their dinner. Sometimes they would both sit with her whenever one of their daughter’s was helping for the night, but tonight it was Thomas’ turn.

“It was good. I made a new friend today,” Charlie answered, stuffing a mouthful of Marilla’s famous jerk chicken and spicy rice into his mouth. 

“Oh, that’s nice,” Sophie smiled. “What’s their name?”

“Neddy,” Charles told her, voice muffled by his mouth being full, before he swallowed. “He was really upset when he came into the classroom and said he missed his amma , so I kept him company.”

“That was very kind of you to do, sweetheart,” Marilla said and Sophie nodded in agreement.

Charles' smile widened at the compliment. “Neddy’s really funny. I like Neddy. Can I have a play-date with him, mama?”

“Well, if you see him tomorrow you let me know,” Sophie replied. “That way I can speak to his Mum about setting one up.” 

Her son gave her a nod in response, grabbing another spoonful of rice off his plate and shoving them into his mouth. Being too short for the chair he was sitting in, he was seated at the edge, his legs kicking back and forth under the table. 

“And how was your day?” Marilla then asked Sophie.  

Sophie paused. “It was fine.” 

That was true. Her day had been fine, if she didn’t include running into her ex and the father of her child after six years of separation. Something, she didn’t think it was a good idea to bring up as they ate dinner right now. Firstly, because Charles was currently seated next to her and knew nothing about his father besides him not being able to be a part of his life, and, secondly, Marilla didn’t have any particularly good things to say about her former flame. Sophie didn’t think she’d hear the end of it if she told her godmother what had happened today, knowing Marilla would be adamant she cease working at Bridgebury immediately. Not wanting her anywhere near the man who’d broken her heart and left her fending for herself, raising a child on her own.

Not to mention the issue of her former stepsisters also working at Bridgebury. That news, Sophie was certain, would give Marilla a stroke.

Sophie would tell her later. She didn’t want to ruin dinner.

“And you’re new colleagues?” Marilla then asked. “They’re all nice?”

Sophie gave her godmother a look, smiling though.

“You make it sound like I just started primary school with Charlie,” she told her and watched as Marilla only rolled her eyes back.

“Well, forgive me for wanting to know how my goddaughter’s day went,” Marilla remarked with a huff and Sophie only chuckled.

“It was fine. They were all…lovely,” Sophie made herself saying, knowing it was partially the truth. Her stepsisters and Benedict aside, everyone else had been incredibly kind and helpful. She had no complaints. 

Yet.

“Well, you make sure to tell me if they start mistreating you,” Marilla said, before pointing the serving spoon at her. “Those snobby little lawyers will be dealing with me if anything happens to you.”

“I know. I know,” Sophie said back, smiling. “But I’m quite certain I can handle it on my own. If it comes to that.”

“Oh, I know you can. That just doesn’t mean I won’t be there to back you up,” Marilla told her. 

“Me too,” Charles added, happily. 

Sophie smiled, reaching out to brush the short strands of chestnut hair that were laying over Charles’ forehead out of his eyes. He was going to need a haircut soon, as much as she loved his little curls when they were long and unruly, hanging around his head above his ears like a little halo. 

“Well, I feel better already knowing I have you in my corner,” she told him, sweetly, and Charles beamed back at her. “Thank you.”

“Now eat up,” Marilla told her, motioning to the plate of half eaten food in front of Sophie. 

“I’m not that hungry–” Sophie started.

“ This one eats far more than you,” Marilla pointed out, pointing the spoon at Charles, who only giggled. 

“Marilla, he’s a five year old boy,” she reminded her with a laugh. “They eat a lot.” 

“You are getting far too skinny,” was her godmother’s only retort, tutting as she looked Sophie over. “All this stress has had you running around on fumes. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You need to get some protein in you, and some muscles back on those bones.”

“Here, Mama,” Charles said, deciding to be helpful and scooping more rice onto her plate from the large plate in the middle of the table used for the meals to be family size. He struggled a little with the coordination, most of the rice ended up on the table than on Sophie’s plate.

“See? Even Charles agrees with me,” Marilla said, proudly.

Sophie snorted back, shaking her head fondly. “Because he always agrees with you.”

“Because I’m always right,” Marilla replied, smiling. 

Smiling back in response, Sophie focused back on her food. She was able to get a few more bites of the delicious meal (enough to keep her godmother happy), but it was tricky to have that much of an appetite after today’s events. Her mind was still anxiously racing through how she was going to handle herself moving forward. How Benedict was going to behave moving forward. She had no idea what he was going to do next, wondering if he would change his mind about ignoring her and tell Agatha to have her fire.

But, what she did know was that she didn’t need to worry anybody with this. At least, not right now. 

And not until she needed to.

Chapter Text

If Benedict stared at the files any longer, he was going to go cross eyed.

Pulling off his glasses, the ones Colin had gotten him as a joke before he realized he actually needed them, Benedict rubbed his index finger and thumb of his dry, tired eyes, yawning as he willed himself to stay awake. At this point, it would probably be best if he just called it a night and left. These files of evidence would still be just as confusing after a night of dreamless rest as they were right now. And everyone else had already left for the day. He’d sent Rosamund home hours ago, not needing her to be a distraction while he focused on his opening statement for the Fife case and organized the evidence they’d gotten for his argument.

He’d set himself up on his sofa, the pieces of evidence for the case scattered over the coffee table in front of him. He half-eaten dinner, chinese takeaway, sat in the far corner of the rectangular glass table. 

All he’d been able to scribble out over the past few hours was what he could only describe as a pathetic, half-assed draft of sorts. The majority of his yellow legal pad was covered more in sketches induced by his boredom and inability to focus than actual words or, better yet, coherent sentences. 

Sighing, Benedict tossed the pad onto the table in front of him, with enough aggression it almost slid straight off the table, and slumped back in his seat, letting his head fall back as he tried to decide whether it was worth staying here any longer. It wasn’t as if he had anything else to do, anything or anyone important waiting for him at home.

Eyes closed, he was about to fall asleep on the couch when there was a knock at the door.

Lifting his head up, Benedict frowned, confused at whom it might be at this hour, before remembering how late it was. It was probably the cleaning lady.

“Come in,” he called out.

The door opened and in slipped someone who wasn’t the cleaning lady.

It was Sophie.

“Ms. Baek?” he asked curiously, frowning. What was she still doing here?

She looked upset. Her dark eyes were red rimmed and shining. She looked close to tears as she stared at him with a pained expression, as if her heart had just been torn apart. And Benedict lurched forward at the sight, suddenly filled with worry. About to stand and ask her if she was alright. What’s wrong?

And then, before he could even react, she was across the room and on him, thighs pressed on either side of his as she straddled him against the couch. Her hands cupped his face as she fervently pressed her soft lips against his, pushing her body against his and pressing him back against the sofa. 

“I missed you,” she whispered, voice filled with what sounded like relief. 

Benedict chuckled, confused as to how she would miss him when he’d never met her before, but found himself unable to pull away and question her on it. The feel of her lips on his was overwhelming. Distracting. Intoxicating. The buzzing sensation he’d felt early had returned. The hairs on his arms and neck stood up as he got goosebumps. 

Reaching out with a hand to push his fingers through her dark, smooth strands, his nails grazing over her scalp and making her moan into his mouth, Benedict could only shudder in return, feeling himself begin to get warmer (especially around his crotch). He felt his body begin to push back against hers as the kiss deepened. The desire to pull her close and keep her small frame pressed against his, to hold her close forever, was all he wanted currently.  

Sliding his arms around her, snaking one up and under her blouse, over the smooth skin of her back, and around her side, Benedict then flipped her, making her yelp in surprise. Her arms went around his neck as her yelp turned into a laugh and it was the greatest sound Benedict had ever heard.

He’d moved her so that her back was against the seat, so she was laid out on the sofa, and he was the one now looming above her, moving back in to kiss her again, his fingers skimming over her stomach under her silk blouse, and–

He woke up to his body slamming against the floor.

“Fuck,” he breathed out as he groaned. A throbbing pain pulsed through him from his cheek down over his chest. Also in his hip, which had hit the floor at the same time his face had. 

Rolling over onto his back, groaning again as the pain slowly faded, Benedict stared up at the ceiling of his…bedroom? Hadn’t he just been in the office? 

Lifting his head up and glancing around, Benedict found he was not on the floor of his elegantly designed office with its hints of sage green and gold in the decorations. Instead, he was laying on the hardwood floor of his darkened, modern bedroom, meaning he was in his apartment. Which held no signs of the new assistant being in it. No signs of her having even been in his apartment to begin with. He struggled for a few minutes to comprehend how he’d gone from his office to his bedroom in the blink of an eye, glancing towards his side table to read 5:00AM on the clock, and noticed the sunlight peeking through behind his blackout curtains. 

“What the fuck?” he breathed out, running a hand through his messy bedhead. 

It must have been a dream. 

One that had been good enough it left a tightness in his briefs. Little Bene- dick had certainly enjoyed it, currently at half mast and pressing against the cotton fabric of his briefs. And leaving Benedict with his cheeks burning in mortification when he realized.

What was he? Thirteen and going through puberty again? He hadn’t woken up with morning wood in years. 

“Jesus,” he said at the sight. He needed to cool himself down. He was boiling.

And his head was pounding. Another migraine coming on no doubt. 

Jumping up and heading towards the bathroom to take a very cold shower, Benedict grabbed a couple Advil from the cabinet before jumping into the shower stall, hissing through clenched teeth as the frigid water hit his burning skin. As he went through his shower routine, Benedict found himself unable to shake the feel of the new assistant’s small hands on his face. The feel of her fingers sliding over his scalp as he quickly scrubbed shampoo in. Her hot breaths against his cheeks as she’d gasped and moaned. 

Benedict quickly turned the handle of the shower fully towards cold letting the already frigid water turn to ice. 

For the briefest of moments, the hole in his heart had disappeared while he’d been dreaming. A simple dream, of a secretary, had somehow made him feel less empty. Less alone. 

He wasn’t the most romantic. Not any more. He barely even flirted nowadays. And he rarely brought anyone home for the night. It was difficult to, especially when you didn’t trust people as easily, which he hadn’t for years. Not since before he’d had his skull cracked open and a good chunk of his memories scooped out with a spoon. Not since before he realized people might have it out for him. That they may have bad intentions. Nearly getting killed made it hard to believe in fanciful concepts like love at first sight or trust . He trusted his family, and that was enough to get by with. 

Still, it hadn’t done much to steem the loneliness he’d felt. A loneliness that seemed to have gotten worse after Anthony married and had his sons. Daphne was now onto her third child, the first of his siblings to marry and start a family. Colin was busier now too since realizing he was in love with Penelope and starting a relationship with her, and Gregory, while nineteen now, was still a child in Benedict’s mind. Not someone to go to for relationship advice or to talk about his problems with. He didn’t need to burden his baby brother with that. 

Add to all this, the thirty two years of feeling inadequate and he felt only shittier. Second best he’d always been. Number two. Only getting attention from women at work events and charity galas because his brothers were now both off the market. And work only barely distracted him from that issue. Maybe that’s why he’d thrown himself into it after his coma, it was the only thing that made him get out of bed nowadays. 

He wanted someone though. He couldn’t deny that he wanted a partner. An equal. Someone who loved him for who he was, and not the prestige he’d gotten from being born with the last name Bridgerton. And yeah, maybe he wanted a child too. A sweet little girl with dark curls and amber eyes. He couldn’t deny how adorable his nieces and nephews were, enough it had convinced him he wanted one of his own. A need to settle down and start a family had been growing on him like barnacles under a ship. 

He just couldn’t find that person. Half the time he couldn’t get past suspecting the worst in someone, long enough to be able to go on a date, and on the rare occasions when he did, he just couldn’t connect. He felt like a puzzle, completed except for the final piece, only he just couldn’t find it . Leaving him feeling adrift, like he was tethered to something– someone already.  

But he couldn’t help but find himself drawn towards the mere thought of Ms. Sophie Baek. A woman he’d only just met. Who he’d known for less than a day. His mind kept going back to her as he readied himself for another day of stress fueled work. That rope around his heart kept pulling him towards her instinctually, since the moment he first saw her. She seemed so familiar yet so new and bright at the same time. And the more he thought of her, the more of an enigma she became. And Benedict couldn’t shake the feel of her hands on him as he showered and readied himself for the day. The desire he now felt building in the pit of his stomach. That sense of deja vu he’d felt after meeting her. 

Maybe it was a sign. He knew he wasn’t supposed to date colleagues, and certainly not those below him on the corporate ladder, but he could at least try to get to know her. Try to get to know people outside of his immediate family for once. Make a new friend. Trust someone new. Sophie seemed kind enough. 

Friendship would be easy, he was charismatic enough.

And friendship could lead to romance, if he played his cards right. 

Chapter Text

Marilla had always told Sophie she had the patients of a saint. That she could put up with far more than most, something that had helped Sophie get through Charles’ terrible twos (even though there had been times she wanted to pull her hair out over how badly he had behaved at times). And while she’d told Sophie that it was a benefit, she’d also warned her to be careful.

“People might try to take advantage of that patience,” she’d said. “The last thing you want is people thinking they can do whatever they want to you just because you’re being polite.”

And she had certainly been right. Because, after one week of working at Bridgebury, Sophie had almost thrown her handbag down and begun screaming like a lunatic in the lobby of her workplace out of frustration. Something she knew she would have gotten herself sectioned if she had.

And it was all Benedict’s fault. 

It had started with him bringing her coffee (and the chocolate scones he’d told her Agatha liked). Her second day of work and he was doing that. Sophie had thought (hoped) he would just continue pretending he didn’t know her when she’d arrive at her desk and find him waiting there, two pastry bags in one hand and a coffee cup holder in the other. He’d come to drop them off on her desk that morning for her to give to Agatha, before holding out a plastic coffee cup for her to take.

“I made a guess,” he told her. “It’s just a simple, iced, vanilla latte.” 

Sophie frowned, biting the inside of her cheek so as to not say something nasty. It seemed the asshole still remembered her coffee order.

“Thank you,” she said politely, taking the drink from him, planning to immediately take it downstairs to Theo once Benedict had left her sight. Which would hopefully be soon.

“And a black coffee for her Ladyship,” Benedict added, handing her another coffee cup, this time for a warm drink. “She in yet?”

Sophie shook her head. “She’s stuck in traffic. About ten minutes, she said.” 

Benedict nodded. “I’ll come back later then,” he told her with a crooked smile and then he was gone, leaving a confused Sophie behind.

And when she arrived, Agatha had been surprised to see the scones, momentarily looking ecstatic when she spotted the pastries hidden within the brown bags, before quickly concealing that with her neutral expression of cool composure. 

“May I inquire as to where you got these from?” she asked, not so subtly, picking one of the bags off of Sophie’s desk as Theo rolled her wheelchair over. 

“Mr. Bridgerton dropped them off,” Sophie quickly clarified, before adding. “He didn’t say where they were from.”

That last sentence wasn’t true, since Benedict had already told her on her first day where the scones had come from. Sophie had just decided it best to keep that information to herself. Just in case she needed it. 

“Damn bastard,” Agatha muttered quietly under her breath as she took the nondescript pastry bag and coffee before Theo pushed her into her office. On his way out, Sophie offered him her untouched latte, which he was welcomed to take off of her.  

She’d thought that was the end of it. She didn’t see Benedict for the rest of the day. Rosamund had seemed hellbent on making sure Sophie didn’t go anywhere near his office (not that she had any desire to), fetching folders from her. Well, demanding them really. Rosamund would show up wanting to know where memos and paperwork from Agatha for her boss was, only to be told, politely, by Sophie that she was still preparing them. She’d leave in a huff, then come back that afternoon with the same request, which Sophie typically had the same response to . 

And then Benedict got her coffee again the next day. Then the next. And the day after that. All under the pretense that since he got some for her boss, he only felt it fair to get her one too. 

“He’s never been this courtesy,” Agatha told her one morning, eying Benedict suspiciously as he exited her office one morning after dropping off the drinks. “Over a decade of working here and he hasn’t bought me coffee since he was an intern.”

Sophie only hummed her response as she took a sip of her drink before pausing, realizing she’d just drank from the coffee Benedict had bought her. Damn . There went giving it to Theo. Again. 

“Maybe he’s trying to fix his reputation,” Theo suggested playfully and Agatha laughed. 

“You think a Bridgerton man worries about their reputation?” Agatha raised a brow at the young copywriter. “I’ve seen the most difficult of clients call that man their best friend. People can’t get enough of him. He could change his ice cold reputation here with one word and a smile, he chooses not to. And he certainly knows he doesn’t need to worry about his reputation with me.”

“Maybe he's buttering you up,” Sophie muttered, mainly to herself as she glared at the little iced latte sitting on the desk in front of her. Maybe if she glared at it hard enough it would just explode into a puff of smoke and dust.

But she hadn’t meant to be heard. Agatha just had ears like a bat. 

“That’s probably it,” she said, nodding her head. “I nearly had his ass for the Berbooke screw up. You’re right, Sophie. He’s trying to get back in my good graces. And he’s using these infernal scones to do so.” 

Sophie had most certainly not meant that, but at least it meant the conversation moved on without anyone noticing the annoyed look she got whenever Benedict’s name was brought up. She chose to focus on her work instead, hoping that if she gave him the cold shoulder long enough he’d get the message.

Only, she’d forgotten who she was dealing with. Benedict was as stubborn as she was and could be blind to the feelings of those around him. For the most charismatic man she’d ever met, there had been times he’d misread the room, such as one time, when they’d been dating and Benedict stole a cab from another guy.

They had gone out to a fancy restaurant inside of a hotel once and were leaving when a cab pulled up right in front of the hotel’s entrance. Benedict had stepped out into the street as another guy went to open the cab door and then, like a gentleman, held the door open for Sophie to get in, not realizing he’d just stolen it from the guy who’d flagged it down. Something Sophie, in her surprise, tried to explain as he helped her into the car. When the guy they’d stolen it from started to argue, Benedict simply turned around and pulled out a twenty from his pocket for the guy, having thought the guy was the hotel’s valet. Handing it over to him before hopping in behind Sophie and slamming the door shut in his face.

He’d been mortified after Sophie pointed it out to him once the cab drove off and rounded the corner down the street, his ears turning bright pink as he slumped down in his seat, trying to hid himself from the world.

So, she wasn’t surprised that he didn’t seem to realize she was upset with him, uncomfortable with him being around her and just plain talking to her. It had been years since they'd last seen one another, but it was putting her in a difficult position. She couldn’t go to her boss and complain about him because he frankly wasn’t doing anything abhorrent, let alone could be considered harassment. He was just being…nice. Not to mention, she’d have to tell Agatha the truth if she went to her. Who he really was to her. 

So, she continued being patient. Polite and courteous whenever Benedict showed up at her desk or called after her in the hallway. On a few occasions, he’d offered to buy her lunch. 

It felt like he was trying to get to know her, which both confused and upset her whenever she thought about it. But it was only during the next case meeting did she truly find herself beginning to get upset. To get angry. 

Sophie was the only present for the meeting because Agatha was at the hospital for her check up, taking notes on her behalf. Halfway through, the hairs on the back of her neck went up as she realized someone was watching her. 

Glancing up, she found it was Benedict. The familiar, crooked smirk on his face as he watched her fondly. He kept those pale eyes on her the entire time. Every time she glanced up from her notes, she saw he was still calmly watching her. And then, on the third or fourth time she looked up to check, finding yet again he was still watching her from across the room, she saw his smile widen as she caught his eyes again. And he winked.

He winked at her.

Sophie blinked, flinching as she was momentarily taken aback. Then she frowned. 

And Benedict seemed to relish in her surprised reaction. The cocky grin only grew as she continued to stare at him, stunned, before he glanced away, now focusing on the meeting. She stared at him for a few more seconds but he never glanced over again. He completely ignored her. 

What. The. Fuck?

Sophie’s heart was racing now, her cheeks flushing and her face going warm, but not for the romantic reasons Benedict seemed to think. No, rushing through her veins suddenly was pure, undiluted anger. Fury. Her hand clenched around her pen and she stiffened in her seat, completely and utterly at a loss as to what she had just witnessed. 

That absolute son of a bitch. Massive, gigantic, manwhore. The literal scum of the earth. The definition of a piece of shit. A fucking asshole of the highest order.

If it hadn’t been for the roughly twenty witnesses in the room with them at that very moment, including her new boss, Sophie would have thrown her pen at Benedict’s smug face. Then her shoe. And then the chair she was sitting on. 

The absolute nerve of him. How dare he.

Acting like he didn’t know her and now he was going to flirt? Not flirt with her. Mock her ! Where the hell did he get off playing a game like this with her? 

After that, Sophie did her damndest to stay as far away from him as possible. She made sure to be away from her desk when she knew Benedict was taking a coffee break or heading out to grab lunch. She worked to get her tasks done as quickly as possible, dropping off files and memos before Rosamund had a chance to ask for them, reducing the possibility of either one of them needing to bother her. And any opportunity Agatha gave her to be out of the office, Sophie took.

The only thing else she could do was pray it got better. That he’d stop.

—

It did not get better.

Somehow. Somehow . He got worse. 

He starts coming to her desks, while she’s working, more often. Like he was trying to find reasons to bother her. All while Sophie was just trying to do her tasks: organize, type, file, repeat. She’d been in the middle of a task, look up and there he would be, asking if she needed help with something. Anything. 

“Need any help organizing the meeting agenda?”

“I’m already done with it, thank you.”

He’d looked disappointed, but departed without another word. She’d hoped that was the end of it, but then, ten minutes later, he was back at her desk. Sophie glanced up from her work, waiting for him to speak. 

“Here is the document Agatha was looking for.”

“Um…thank you, but Mrs. Danbury asked for this electronically.”

“Oh! Well, I’ll shoot her a quick email when I get back to my desk then.”

Another ten minutes went by and he was back again. With another question. 

“Does she need me to put the lunch order in for tomorrow’s meeting?” 

“No, I’ve already put the request in for catering. Thank you.”

Thirty minutes after that it was.

“I realized I forgot to ask earlier, but have you already had lunch? I’m running down to grab something. Want anything?”

“I’m good, thank you. I ate already.”

Then, later, while on his way back to his office after his lunch.

“Hey, I’m heading over to check the conference room in a few minutes, want me to take the folders over for you?” 

“No, I’m alright. Thank you.”

It went on for a couple days, this back and forth of constantly showing up to badger her, before, finally, Sophie had had enough.

“ This couldn’t be an email ?” she asked him back snappishly after he’d come back to her desk to ask her where she’d put the evidence for the Fife case in the ShareDrive. 

Benedict’s eyes widened in surprise, brows popping up as he gave her a puzzled look.

“I’m sorry?” he said, seeming confused as to why she was suddenly so agitated. 

“You couldn’t just send an email?” she repeated, frowning. “You have an assistant. She could do it for you. Or, better yet, you could use the messaging system all the computers have. That way, you aren’t running around the office looking for me.”

And wasting my time , she added quietly in her head. 

She’d hoped that would tell him to back off, but her suggestion of the chat system seemed to have given Benedict an idea. A small smile began to spread across his face. Which was a cause for concern in Sophie’s eyes. And he merely flashed her a crooked smile and told her understood before walking away.

Four minutes later there was a ding from her computer as a message came through.

Benedict : Found the Fife file. Any chance you can send me the word version?
Sent at 1:00pm

Sophie : Just did.
Sent at 1:05pm

Benedict : Thanks.
Sent 1:06pm

Benedict : Rosamund said you left the memo for the Berbooke case in the ShareDrive as well but I can’t find it. What did you label it as?
Sent at 1:20pm

Sophie : Berbook Agreement A. Danbury. Should be in the case file folder.
Sent at 1:21pm

Benedict : Found it. Thanks again 😄
Sent at 1:30pm

Sophie : 👍
Sent at 1:30pm

She shouldn’t have sent the emoji, but it was just second nature for her. Her typical response when someone thanked her. She should have just left him on read . Right as she turned to get back to her work, there was another ding.

Benedict : When are you leaving today? I know Agatha mentioned the memo was a draft so I wanted to make sure I got my suggestions on it before she leaves.
Sent at 1:45pm

Sophie : 5. Agatha has a work dinner so she’ll be leaving at the same time.
Sent at 1:49pm

Benedict : Okay. I’ll do what I can before then, but if you’re gone, is there a better way to contact you?
Sent at 1:52pm

Sophie : My work email should be fine.
Sent at 2:05pm

Benedict : I mean sure, but some of this stuff can be a little confusing to discuss over email. Goes quicker if I can just explain it over the phone. It would probably be better if I just had your number. So I can contact you in the future.
Sent at 2:15pm

Benedict: If that’s alright with you?
Sent at 2:16pm .

Benedict: Sophie? You there?
Sent at 2:35pm

Benedict : Sophie?
Sent at 2:45pm

Sophie was too busy groaning to type a response, holding her face in her hands as she rested her elbows on the desk in front of her. Wondering if defenestration was a potential avenue to end all her problems.

This man was going to be the death of her. 

Chapter Text

In the end, she gave Benedict her number. 

Mainly due to Agatha.

After ignoring Benedict’s message, she’d tentatively broached the subject with Agatha a few days later, hoping that maybe she wasn’t allowed to. But, unfortunately for her, her boss said it was fine. Their cases could get so hectic that it was beneficial for them to all have each other's numbers, in case a matter came up after work hours, but they were usually connected to work phones.

“Give me a few days and I’ll have one for you as well,” Agatha had then added. 

So, Sophie relented. Once she had her work phone, she provided the number that came with it to Benedict, who seemed happy that he now had means to contact her outside of work.

Arrogant, whoring bastard .

He hadn’t bothered her outside of work. Yet. At work was a different story, but once she was off the clock and out of the building she barely had to even think about him. It made her feel like the theme from Jaws was constantly playing subtly in the background of her life, as she waited for that to change. 

Add to this, Charles had decided to become extra clingy with her. She suspected due to the change of routine he was now going through since she’d started working late. He’d started crawling into her bed in the middle of the night, complaining about nightmares and that he couldn’t sleep, and keeping her up night after night as a result. He was sleepless for some reason and decided to make her suffer with him, leaving them both cranky and snappish during the day. 

At least Charles was allowed to take a nap during the day.

With that, and all the crap she had to deal with from Benedict, she was hitting her breaking point. Her hard, tough, iron, patience was finally beginning to break. 

Not to mention, Rosamund and Posy being here did not help make things easier. 

“Oh! Sophie!” Rosamund remarked when she saw her enter the breakroom one morning, flashing her a perfected fake smile. “Good morning.”

Her former stepsister was dressed to the nines, per usual, and in her typical pink toned clothes, while Posy was dressed in much plainer colors, and plainer clothes. The younger Li sister’s clothes, while professional and fitting for her job, looked a little baggy, as if they just didn’t fit right on Posy’s frame. Sophie had noted how her stepsister looked to have lost weight since they last saw one another, by at least a size or two, but her clothes didn’t reflect that. Posy dressed in a way to keep herself unnoticeable. Invisible. And it made Sophie feel sympathetic towards her.

Araminta had always made Posy’s weight the biggest reason for her not being her favored child, not that Sophie’s stepmother had ever tried to hide her favoritism towards Rosamund. It seemed that even years later, Posy still had her insecurities over her appearance. Dressed in a way to garner neither compliments nor critiques. Making sure Rosamund got the attention and not her. 

“Morning,” Sophie replied, flatly, barely making eye contact with either one as she headed towards the coffee machine sitting on the sleek marble countertop. 

“Hi, Sophie,” Posy said, weakly, her voice barely over a whisper. 

Sophie sighed softly, feeling the tension in her shoulders fade. It probably wasn’t fair to give Posy the cold shoulder. Sophie had always felt a level of sympathy or pity for her former stepsister, even after she moved out. Posy had dealt with almost the same amount of abuse Sophie had, and she was Araminta’s biological daughter. Not her husband’s bastard child like Sophie was.

“Hey Posy,” Sophie said back, softly, before returning to her task of making herself a cup of coffee. The room went silent again. 

“Where was I?” Rosamund then remarked, turning back to her sister. “Oh! That’s right. You remember Claire Bronell?”

Sophie immediately stopped, closing her eyes as she took a deep, steadying breath. She knew where this was going. 

Don’t engage. Don’t engage. Don’t engage .

“That’s not–” Posy started, sounding confused.

“Oh, come now, you remember Claire,” Rosamund said, continuing. “Pretty. Brunette. Used to sit next to Sophie during labs.” 

Claire Bronell had been a friend, for a few years that is. Sophie and her had been quite close until they had a falling out in Year 8. Over a foolish matter Sophie was certain Rosamund had been the cause of. 

Posy didn’t say anything back, only watched her sister skeptically, but Rosamund didn’t care. She continued on.

“She was telling me how she had this supposed friend back in school,” Rosamund carried on, but paused momentarily when another employee stepped into the room to grab something out of the fridge. “Well, she was telling me all about how they ended up falling out.”

Sophie tried to mentally will the coffee machine to go faster, but it continued pouring the coffee into the mug at its usual, steady pace. Thin wisps of steam floating out and around as the hot liquid filled the porcelain mug. Keeping her mind busy, Sophie shook out a sugar packet as they kept her eyes trained on the mug. 

“Apparently, her friend was stealing from her,” Rosamund carried on. “You remember how she was at school. Little klepto Sophie.” 

Sophie almost laughed with her stepsister as she poured the sugar into her mug and then the milk, but not one of humor or joy. 

While Rosamund was correct, Claire had ended their friendship because of that, Sophie had never stolen from her friend. Frankly, things of value tended to disappear when Rosamund was around, and they had all attended the same boarding school growing up.

A necklace Claire’s late grandmother had given her had gone missing one day, after she’d taken it off while studying in Sophie’s room. A room which had been conveniently located directly from Rosamund’s. Sophie had never been able to prove it was her stepsister, but she recalled how both her and Claire had stepped out of the room for a few moments and her room door had been open the entire time they were out. When they had returned and both noticed the necklace was gone, they searched the room together, only to discover nothing. 

A few days later, Claire had suddenly accused her of taking it, stating someone had told her they’d seen Sophie wearing it, and when Sophie vehemently denied having taken it, she had told the head girl. The head girl had been able to find the necklace with ease, hidden away in Sophie’s side table, even though Sophie had checked the draws multiple times since the necklace had disappeared, and the headmistress had been subsequently told. 

A call home to her parents, a reduction in allowance from her father, and three detentions later, Sophie and Claire were subsequently no longer on friendly terms with one another. Claire kept her distance from that point on, and the rumors went around that Sophie was a kleptomaniac. She didn’t have many friends in the following years. Not until Lucy had arrived at the school during Year 10. 

“I’d forgotten all about the incident until I saw her,” Rosamund said, flippantly, although Sophie doubted she really had. Rosamund's memory was picture perfect when it came to remembering any and all mistakes Sophie made.

“That wasn’t true,” Posy started. “Sophie’s never took–”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Rosamund said loudly, just enough to make sure the other employee preparing their tea could hear her. “Like mother, like daughter I suppose"

Hand clenched tight at her side, the other gripping the ceramic mug, Sophie practically stormed out of the break-room, heading back towards her desk. Fury burning in her stomach as she put distance between herself and her former stepsisters. 

Six years. It had been practically six years since she’d last seen either Rosamund or Posy, and they were still able to hurt her. To drag up painful memories and emotions. It angered her, not only what Rosamund had said, but that it still affected her. That her ex-stepsister still knew what to say and where to hit. Without even trying. And with an audience.

God only knew what would happen if she ran into Araminta now. 

Blinking away hot tears as she sat down at her desk, Sophie turned quickly to her work, looking for a distraction. She ignored a message from Benedict, instead clicking on Kate’s contact to quickly ask her if she was done with the remaining evidence files.

She’d been organizing the evidence Agatha needed for a case she was presenting in court at the end of the week, getting the items all together and in the box the paralegals would be bringing over. Only Kate had some of the files needed and she needed to grab them from her. 

Later that morning, Kate had messaged telling her that they were all printed and ready to pick up. She’d be able to get them from her assistant Alice. It didn’t take long for Sophie to go down and get them from her. As she headed back towards the elevator, files in hand, she stopped only feet away, right as she got to the corner. 

Benedict was in the hallway, outside the elevators, standing with what appeared to be a group of school children. The students all looked to be young secondary students, pre-teens, dressed in their emerald green toned uniforms. They chatted happily amongst themselves, waiting for the elevator to arrive, while their teacher, a young, pretty blonde with bright eyes and soft features, chatted with Benedict. 

“It was wonderful getting to meet you, Mr. Bridgerton,” the teacher said, kindly. “Thank you so much again for showing us around.”  

“It was my pleasure,” Benedict replied, flashing his charming, crooked smile and making the teacher blush. 

“I’m certain the children learned a lot from today’s trip,” the teacher added. 

“Well, if they have any more questions you’re welcome to email them to me and I’ll answer to the best of my ability,” Benedict told her.

She nodded. “Of course. Before we go, the children wanted me to give this to you. We baked you some cookies as a thank you gift.” 

She then held out the brown paper bag she’d been holding to Benedict. The handles had been tied together with a big, pale blue bow. 

“Oh! How kind of you,” Benedict said, taking it. “Thank you.”

Next to them, the ding of the elevator alerted them to its arrival. Seconds later, the sleek silver doors parted.

“Well, we’ll be off now,” the teacher said. “Thanks again!”

The children waved and called out their final goodbyes, which Benedict returned with a small. polite one of his own, before the elevator doors closed. He then turned around, bag in hand, heading down the hallway, towards where Sophie was, looking to be going back to his office. Until he came close to the trash can sitting right at the corner where he stopped. 

And then promptly moved the bag so it was hovering over it. He looked ready to drop it in.

“Don’t!” she yelled out, a flash of panic racing through her as she moved to grab the handles of the bag before the bag disappeared into the trash can. She had to let go of the files as she did, they landed with a thud as she rushed forward. 

She wasn’t able to grab the bag, but she was able to get her hand around his wrist, stopping him. And Benedict froze up, surprised to see her. 

“Ms. Baek–” Benedict started, confused.

“What are you doing?” she snapped at him, appalled. 

“What am– what am I doing?” he shot back, stunned. “What are you doing?”

He tried to pull himself out of her grip, but Sophie only held on tighter, grabbing the bag with her free hand and trying to take it from him. Benedict’s eyes widened as they struggled for a few moments, fighting over the small brown paper bag, until Sophie finally got a good enough grip and ripped it away from him. 

“Are you out of your mind?” she snapped.

“Let go of me–” Benedict started. 

“You can’t just throw away gifts like that, you–you asshole! It’s rude,” she told him bluntly, before she could realize what words had slipped out of her mouth. 

Benedict’s frown deepened as he finally snatched his wrist from her, before striking out with the same hand and grabbing hers, pulling her towards him. It wasn’t a hard tug, nor a tight grip either, but it had enough to force Sophie closer to him, almost stumbling into his chest. Sophie was momentarily taken aback. It was as if the air around them had suddenly dropped multiple degrees. 

“Why don’t we talk, privately?” he suggested, voice incredibly calm given the glare he was currently giving her.

Sophie opened her mouth to retort that, to tell him she would absolutely do no such thing and to let go of her, when she was cut off by another voice speaking. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” it was another young man, one who’d just stepped out of the other elevator nearby and spotted them. 

He was an inch or two shorter than Benedict but still taller than Sophie. Younger than him too, with similar dark hair and pale eyes. Features that were quite familiar to Benedict’s. A brother maybe? It couldn’t be Anthony. Sophie knew what he looked like, but Benedict did have two younger brothers. One who was only a few years younger. Colin, wasn’t it? She was pretty sure his name was Colin.  

And the suspected brother, Colin, stepped in between them and grabbed Benedict’s wrist before either he or Sophie could say another word.

“Let's not grab people,” he said, taking Benedict’s wrist and forcing him to let go of Sophie’s, speaking to him as if talking to a child. “That isn’t very nice.” 

Sophie stepped back, gripping the handles of the bag as tightly as she could as she held the bag close, making sure neither gentleman could snatch it from her. She kept her eyes on Benedict, glaring furiously at him as she practically vibrated with rage, but he returned her glare with one of his own. Looking a mix between insulted and defensive. 

“Excuse us one moment,” maybe-Colin told her over his shoulder, before he grabbed Benedict and dragged him down the hallway and away from her, the two muttering furiously as they disappeared around the corner. 

And leaving Sophie awkwardly standing alone, with a half torn brown paper bag in her hands. 

—

“What is wrong with you?” Colin snapped as he shoved Benedict towards his office. 

“ Me ?! What did I do?” Benedict shot back defensively. He tried to dig the soles of his shoes into the carpeted floor, wrestle his way out of his brother’s hold so he could go back and explain to Ms. Baek that she was in position to judge him for tossing out the school children’s gift. That he had every right to and she had misunderstood the situation.

But his brother had apparently taken up wrestling during his travels, getting a tight grip on his shoulders and wrists as he easily dragged him into the room, closing the door shut behind him before grabbing Benedict again and pulling him towards the sofa. The two of them bickering like children the entire time. 

“I didn’t do anything–” he started. 

“You can’t go around just grabbing people like that. Especially women who are working under you,” Colin snapped at him, before giving him a hard shove toward the couch. “How do you think it will look if someone sees you, the big partner and founder’s son, manhandling a secretary?”

“I wasn’t manhandling her,” his brother shot back with a roll of his eyes as he dropped down onto his couch, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

No one had ever spoken to him in such a way. His family sure, but no one in the office (minus Kate, but she was now also family) had used such a tone with him. But Sophie had come at him like a bat out of hell, reprimanding him like he was a little boy who’d been caught trying to cover up damaging a fine china vase. Something that had happened to Benedict when he was little. 

(Not to mention, the tiny part of him that had somewhat enjoyed it. But that was another matter.)

She’d gone from polite and meek to cold and stern with him, snappish practically, in the span of only a few days. And she seemed about ready to bite his head off earlier. Oscillating between hot and cold when it came to him. He couldn’t figure out why. Had he done something to offend her?

Well, maybe he’d gone a little overboard on being nice and trying to get to know her. He should probably apologize for that. And for grabbing her. His brother was right, now that he thought about it. That was rude. 

“Isn’t she also Danbury’s assistant? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Colin asked him, continuing on in his lecture as Benedict simply ignored him, still mulling over what had just happened. “You can’t just grab someone because they are telling you off.”

“That woman–” Benedict started softly, staring off into the distance, having not been listening to a single word Colin had been saying. Lost in his own world of trying to figure out Ms. Sophia Baek. 

“ Youespeciallydonotcallthem‘thatwoman’ ,” Colin hastily added, speaking a mile a minute in his panic. None of this was what he’d thought he’d be dealing with when he came upstairs to check on his brother. 

He’d only done so because Anthony had asked. Calling from New York looking for an update on how their brother had been handling the firm while he was out of town. He hadn’t said it, but Colin knew it was because he was worried. Benedict had slowly been turning into a hermit these past few years, growing less and less interested in socializing outside of their family. He barely attended any social functions or galas, unless they were being hosted by their mother, and most of the time, whenever Colin carefully broached the subject with him and asked him what he’d been doing in his free time, the answer was usually ‘not much. I’ve been busy with work lately.’

It bugged him at times, and Colin knew it bugged his family too. Anthony had begun to worry, and if he was worrying, then there was a problem.

Benedict had once been the life of the party, carefree and happy, unfazed by even the slightest bit of stress or bad news, and now he was almost colder than Anthony. Like icy, steel walls had gone up around him, ones not even his family could get through. 

And now he’d nearly opened them to a harassment suit. Something his older brother didn’t seem to realize, or just didn’t care, given Benedict still wasn’t listening to him. 

“She called me…” he started to say before stopping, thinking it over once more, and frowning. “She called me an asshole .”

Colin was tempted to whack his brother upside the head, if he wasn’t completely taken aback by his behavior. Especially when he watched as Benedict smiled and chuckled fondly, recalling his interaction with Ms. Baek. Like it was funny what the secretary had done. Like he was impressed. 

“Well, you did grab her without asking,” he told his brother slowly. “What did you expect?”

Six years was a long time for lingering neurological effects to start showing, right?

—

It had taken Sophie five minutes to calm down, sitting at her desk with her hands clenched in tight fists on her lap, breathing deeply as she tried to understand why Benedict would be such a…such a… asshole . Those children must have spent an afternoon preparing and decorating those cookies for him and he tossed them aside like they meant nothing. 

Like he’d tossed her aside.

Maybe that’s why she’d gotten so upset. Letting her personal feelings get in the way. God, she’d just grab him out of nowhere. He must have thought she was crazy. And maybe she was, letting her emotions fuel her actions. Letting her make a fool out of herself. 

Closing her eyes, Sophie took another deep breath, trying to calm down. Breathing slowly through her mouth and then out through her nose. 

Breathe in. He’s an asshole . Breathe out. The biggest asshole . Breathe in. It doesn’t matter what he thinks or wants . Breathe out. He’s a piece of shit. 

One year. She just needed to make it through one year. 

As she went through her breathing mantra again, the phone on her desk began ringing, violently snapping her from her meditation and firing up the rage coursing through her veins. She quickly snatched it off the receiver and brought it to her ear. 

“Agatha Danbury’s office,” she said snappishly into the phone, before cringing. 

That was rude and the last thing she needed was to be rude to a client. Hell, she hadn’t even checked the caller ID before she’d picked up the phone.

Taking another deep breath, more calmly she said. “Sophie speaking.”

“Sophie? Hi, it’s Colin. Benedict’s brother. We met briefly earlier,” the male voice on the other end said.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” she said, forcing politeness. Her jaw tightening as she continued using her customer service voice. “How can I help you?”

“Listen, I just wanted to apologize for my brother. For what happened earlier,” Colin told her. “I know he can come off as pretty cold and heartless, and trust me I don’t like it as much as anyone else” he then muttered something that sounded like ‘Already had to deal with Anthony being like that,’ before his volume returned to normal. “But it’s been difficult for him these past few years.”

Sophie had a hard time believing that, but still held her tongue.

“He has a hard time trusting people and can get a little snappish when people judge him, but he's got a good heart. I’m pretty sure he’ll realize his error and apologize to you himself. And if he doesn’t, just let me know and I’ll come back up there to smack some sense into him,” Colin added with a laugh. “He used to be a pretty, chill guy that people liked back in the day. Not that he can remember that.”

Sophie only hummed her answer, half listening as she turned her attention to her emails. “Uh-huh.”

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to give me a call,” Colin told her, before quickly giving her his extension. “If either of my brothers are ever bothering you, I’m welcome to come up there and put them in their place.”

“Thanks,” Sophie said back, with as much politeness as she could muster as to hide the sarcasm hidden behind it. As annoyed as she felt, she didn’t want to be rude. 

“I hope you’ll forgive him for this one slight,” Colin added. “And I’m sure he’ll be apologizing to you soon enough.”

“Sure,” she said flatly, not believing him, trying not to roll her eyes as she waited for the conversation to end. “Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Bridgerton?”

Colin said there wasn’t and gave her a quick, polite goodbye, reminding her once more to ring him if his brother was misbehaving again before letting her go and hanging up. Sophie practically slammed the phone down into the receiver once the call was over, the anger she felt had returned to its boiling point. 

Arrogant Bridgerton bastards. Thinking they could do whatever they please and just be simply forgiven for it without issue. Where the hell did they get off on that?

Then, through the anger induced hurricane her mind was currently caught in, she remembered something Colin had said.

He used to be a pretty, chill guy that people liked back in the day. Not that he can remember that.

Not that he can remember that . What an odd thing to say. 

It nagged at Sophie for the rest of the afternoon. Not that he can remember that . As she went about her work her mind kept filtering back to it, trying to figure out what Colin meant. Why wouldn’t he remember? 

It made her think about the scar on Benedict’s forehead. Made her wonder what had happened since she’d last seen him. How he’d gotten it. 

And Colin was right, Benedict did come to see her again. As she was leaving. Later than she had hoped. 

“Ms. Baek, wait!” he called out as he saw her stepping into the elevator.

Sophie ignored him, hoping the doors would close before he had a chance to jump in and they almost did. Then Benedict’s hand popped in between the gap, triggering the sensor and forcing the doors to open again. 

“Yes, Mr. Bridgerton?” Sophie asked with an exasperated sigh as Benedict stepped in, the doors finally sliding shut behind him as the elevator began its descent down to the lobby. 

“I wanted to apologize. For earlier,” Benedict told her. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.” 

“It’s fine,” Sophie replied, dismissively, keeping her eyes trained over his shoulder and on the little screen that told them what floor they were on. A screen which was slowly dropping down a number. Sophie willed it mentally to to go faster.

“You took me by surprise is all–but I’m not saying that as an excuse,” Benedict added quickly. “I just…I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Uh huh,” was her only response. 

Benedict frowned. “I’m getting the sense we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he told her, continuing. 

“Sure,” she replied, half listening.  Behind him the number went from 2 to 1. One more level and she’d be free. 

“Ms. Baek, if I’ve done something to offend you, I’d like to know,” he then said, sensing her annoyance.

Sophie scoffed. Because he didn’t know already.

Her scoff only confirmed what Benedict was suspecting. His frown deepened. He opened his mouth to say something, when the doors behind him finally opened, the elevator had arrived at the lobby. Sophie quickly slipped by him and out of the elevator, speedingly heading towards the front doors so she could escape. Her heels loudly clicking against the sleek marble flooring. 

“Ms. Baek!” Benedict called out again, chasing after her. 

Arrogant, whoring bastard . She thought as she hastily walked towards the revolving glass doors. She just needed to get to the tube station. Then it would only be half an hour before she was home.

She just wanted to get home and relax. Marilla and Thomas had gotten Charles for her today and after dealing with both Rosamund and Benedict, she felt ready to cry. She just wanted to get home and hug her little boy. 

But Benedict caught up with her outside. Sophie had forgotten that with her ex being a full head taller than her it meant he didn’t even break a sweat trying to catch up with her and her little legs. Benedict was practically all leg. She’d felt like a little pomeranian trying to keep up with him when they were dating. Her legs speedily moving back and forth like some cartoon character while Benedict simply walked at a leisurely pace beside her. 

Damn her 5’2” height she’d gotten from her mother. Why couldn’t she have inherited her father’s height of 5’10” instead? Why couldn’t she have fallen in the middle of the two? Maybe 5’6”? Or 5’7”?

“Ms. Baek,” Benedict said again, his hand brushing over her shoulder but he didn’t grab her this time.

Sophie stopped, taking a deep breath before she turned to face him, her hand gripping the handles of her bag tightly as it rested over her shoulder.

“Yes, Mr. Bridgerton? Is there something else that you need?” she asked. 

“Look, why don’t you let me drive you home?” he offered. “Let me make it up to you for being an asshole, as you put it earlier.”

“I don’t need you driving me,” she told him, politely. “I’m certain you are very busy and have a lot of work to do. There is no need for you to take time out of your day for this. It’s fine.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, it wouldn’t be me driving,” he quickly clarified.

Sophie looked up at him, confused. 

“My driver John would take you. I don’t…I don’t drive,” Benedict admitted, a little sheepishly.

Now Sophie frowned. Didn’t drive? Benedict had a license. She knew he had a license. And she also knew he loved to drive. He’d had a vintage, Jaguar convertible he drove everywhere when they were dating. It was one of his most prized possessions. 

She remembered a trip they took one weekend where they’d gone into the county, staying at a little cottage in what had felt like the middle of nowhere. Benedict had driven her there in his car. It had been a warm, sunny morning when they’d left. She remembered how relaxing it had been, driving down the country roads with the wind blowing through her hair. Benedict’s left hand holding hers over the consol as he drove. It felt straight out of an old Hollywood movie. 

And when she said Benedict loved driving, he loved driving. It had been like pulling teeth trying to get him to use the Underground. Or public transit in general. She’d teased him about it constantly, calling him a privileged, little, rich boy before watching how his entire face would go bright red as he sputtered back a weak defense about waiting times and not needing to worry about parking costs. How driving there would be easier when she knew it was because he just liked it. 

He’d put up with the trains, for her sake, but if he had to choose, he’d drive instead. Something Sophie had never understood with the traffic London had. And with the car he’d chosen to drive. 

So why had he suddenly stopped?

“I don’t need your driver taking me home,” she told him. “I’m perfectly capable of using public transit. Besides, you’ll need to get home somehow.”

“It’s fine,” Benedict assured her. “I’m staying late tonight to work on a case. By the time John’s dropped you off and gotten back here, I’ll be done.”

“Mr. Bridgerton–” she started.

He sighed. “You can call me, Benedict, Sophie. I don’t mind.”

Sophie’s jaw clenched as she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, taking another deep, calming breath. The last thing she needed was Benedict knowing where she now lived. And she just really really wanted to go home. She wanted this conversation to end.

“ Benedict ,” she started slowly, keeping her voice level. “Thank you for the offer, but it's fine. I’ll just take the train.” 

Now it was Benedict’s turn to get annoyed. He groaned, an exasperated laugh of disbelief slipping from him as he shook his head and stared up at the sky, making Sophie’s back instinctually straighten up.

“Is it so hard for you to just accept other people’s help?” he asked, a little snappish now, as he looked down at her. 

Sophie frowned, eyes narrowing as she glared back. Her stomach twisted into a knot as another pulse of rage rushed through her. What the hell was his problem?

Arrogant. 

Whoring. 

Bastard.  

That was it. She’d had it. 

“How can I make myself clear enough that I do not, under any circumstances, need your–” she started angrily, the rage building. Her patience worn through. She was going to finally rip him a new one and tell him exactly how she felt. 

But behind her there was a loud screeching noise that echoed around them, like nails on a chalkboard, as a car hit the brakes hard, cutting her off. A horn blared loudly moments after. Sophie wiped her head over to see what had happened, finding that a silver Honda had narrowly missed being struck by a Tesla that ran a red light at the intersection nearby. But no accident had occurred. The cars both made their turns and disappeared, insults and profanities yelled out the windows as they passed each other. 

“As I was saying,” she said, turning to look at Benedict. “I’m quite–”

She stopped mid-sentence again. 

Benedict wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he had his eyes squeezed shut, a grimace pulling his features taught. His whole body was tense, as if the sounds of the near car accident had spooked him. At his sides his hands were clenched tightly. It appeared that he was desperately trying to control his breathing, slowly taking deep, calming breaths. 

“Are you alright?” she asked. 

Benedict was silent for a few more seconds, before he took another deep breath and sighed, finally opening his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he told her, coolly. “It’s fine.” 

“You’re sure?” she asked, still rather concerned. She’d never seen him react like that before.

“Positive,” he replied, voice still calm but shaky. “I-I need to get back to my office. I just remembered that I have a meeting I need to get to. My apologies for keeping you, Ms. Baek.” 

Then he was gone. Sophie watched as Benedict quickly turned and briskly walked back into the building, leaving her standing awkwardly on the sidewalk, confused as to what she’d just seen, and without saying another word. Cars whizzed by behind her as she tried to figure out what had just happened. The sudden change in emotion. Why he’d reacted the way he had to something so simple. She’d never seen that from him before. 

What on earth had happened since they’d last seen one another?

Chapter Text

Benedict was too old to be having panic attacks. So he wasn’t possibly having one right now. He wasn’t. 

Even though he currently felt like he couldn’t breath, like the world had suddenly grown a hundred sizes too small, closing in on him. He was not having a panic attack, even as he stumbled through the lobby towards the elevators, praying no one else would be in them. The wide open space of Bridgebury’s lobby already felt claustrophobic, an elevator filled with people was the last thing he needed right now.

Alright, so maybe he was having a panic attack.

At least he hadn’t had it in front of Sophie. 

He'd been able to get himself away from her quick enough. The moment he'd felt the pressure building, suddenly feeling weighted down, he'd excused himself quickly. His vision had whited-out, like a camera had flashed in front of his eyes, the moment he heard the sounds of car breaks being hit. Like he’d been blinded again by the headlights of a car. The only thing he remembered from that day. 

It was ironic really. He barely remembered anything from that day, yet he hadn’t been able to get back into a car since. Car horns and headlights still made him flinch. Going through parking lots was stressful for him. It meant staring over his shoulder as he walked through, constantly keeping an eye on any cars around him. It could be hell. 

And now it had induced a panic attack. One he hadn’t had in years. 

Somehow he made it up the elevator, stumbling out like a drunk as he bee-lined for his office. Needing to get out of sight. The benefit of the sixth floor was that there were fewer people working there. Only partners got offices on the sixth floor.

Getting to his office was the only thing keeping him from collapsing. It was the only thing he could focus on as he quickly slipped through the hallway, turning left just a few more steps and he’d be in a quiet, enclosed space. 

The moment she saw him, Rosamund quickly stood up from where she was sitting behind her desk. A determined look on her face. 

“Ben, we really need to talk about Ms. Baek–” she started. 

“Not now,” he snapped, out of breath, quickly brushing past her and into his office. 

He practically slammed the door in his haste, flicking the lock to guarantee privacy before slumping against the hard, wooden board. All the energy he had left bleeding out of him as he struggled to keep himself upright for a few more seconds.

Shoving a hand into his pocket he pulled out his phones. His hands shook as he scrolled through the contacts, bypassing his brothers and sisters, his therapist, with ease until he got to the one he wanted. Pressing the call button and bringing the phone to his ear, Benedict prayed she’d pick up, that it wouldn’t go to voicemail, as he pressed his back against the door, panting now. 

“Hello, my darling, how are you?” his mother’s voice cheerfully greets him from the other side. Sunshine might as well have beam out from his phone as she spoke. 

“M-mum?” he quickly gasps out, failing to sound calm as he slowly sank to the floor. He felt light headed, like he head was made of iron and his ears were stuffed with cotton. Sound slowly fading out to static. 

“Benedict!? Benedict, what’s wrong? Are you having another panic attack?” his mother asks, serious now, as he manages out a noise that sounds something like a ‘yes.’ “Where are you?”

“W-work. In off-office,” he stutters as he breathes out, pulling at his tie to loosen it. It had tightened around his neck like a noose and he needed to get it off. “Gonna…gonna pass out.”

“Oh no. No, you are not. Listen to me,” she orders. “Breath in. And breathe out.” 

He tries to follow along, but his lungs feel like they’ve seized up. Like there was a baby elephant currently sitting on his chest, pressing down on his lungs and preventing them from expanding. 

“Benedict. Breath sweetheart,” his mother tells him calmly. “Breath in,” she orders and he does. “Hold it for five seconds. And breathe out.”

He lets out the breath he was holding, releasing the air from his lungs and feeling his body begin to relax. His mother made him repeat it a few more times, voice calm and soothing as she gently instructed him on how to calm down, following along with him, until his heart finally stopped pounding against his sternum at a distracting rate and he sighs, relaxing against the door. His head was pounding. 

“Alright?” his mother asked.

“Yeah,” he said, shakily, running a hand over his face. “Yeah, I think I’m okay. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, honey. You don’t need to apologize,” his mother’s voice said sweetly. “You know you can call me whenever you want. I don’t mind being bothered.”

“I know. I’m just–”

“Have you been getting enough sleep?” 

He sighs, letting his head fall back and hit the door. “Well, it’s kind of tough at the moment.” 

He heard her hum on the other end. Disapprovingly. “You need to take a vacation sweetheart. It’s not good for you to spend all your time at work.”

“I take the holidays off, mum,” he reminded her.

“Anthony takes more time off than you, and that is saying something,” was her response, making Benedict roll his eyes.

“I will, mother,” he replied. “Right now is just a little tricky. There’s too much going on for me to just take off.”

Again, his mother hummed. No doubt processing the excuse he’d just given her and trying to figure out a solution. 

“I’m going to Kent this Friday to check on the house. Maybe you can come with me?” she then suggested. “Take a day or two off. It will be just the two of us since Hyacinth is going to stay at Daphne’s and Gregory’s up in Scotland. We can even leave on Thursday so you only need to take a day? I’m sure work would be alright with you working remote for a day or two. We can make a mother-son trip out of it. I’ll drive.”

“I’ll…I’ll think about it,” Benedict told her. 

“I’m worried about you, sweetheart,” his mother said. 

He sighed. “I know. But I’m alright, mum. I swear.” 

“Maybe you can come over for dinner tonight instead?” his mother then says. “Get yourself a nice home cooked meal for once. You know I always cook too much. Too used to cooking for eight. If you leave now you’ll get here just in time.” 

There was a knock on the door behind him. “Ben?” he heard Rosamund’s voice, muffled behind the wood, ask. “Ben, are you alright?” 

Benedict clenched his jaw and said nothing. The last thing he wanted to deal with was her fussing over him. She'd been a pain all week, complaining about Sophie and trying to butter him up, he assumed, so that it would convince him to fire Sophie (like he even could). At least her work ethic had improved. Friendly competition seemed to be all she needed to finally do her job properly.

But getting out of the office for an afternoon might help. He hadn’t taken a PTO in a while. Agatha would understand.

“Yeah, yeah maybe that will be nice,” he told his mother quietly.

—

Benedict needed to start learning how to say ‘no’ to his mother. 

He had forgotten that his brothers, the only people in his family who would have at least had the courtesy to shield him from his little sisters, were all conveniently unavailable tonight. Anthony was now headed to New York, due to a last minute emergency with one of their international clients that would keep him out of London for another few weeks, and Colin was at one of his evening classes. And Gregory was now in university himself, with no plans to come down home this weekend from St. Andrews. 

Meaning he was, effectively, on his own. Against the wolves. 

He’d also forgotten his key to his mother’s home, meaning he was stuck waiting for one of them to finally answer the door after he’d rung the doorbell a few times. Not able to slip in and discreetly sneak in. His keys were still at his apartment, where they had been for the last six years attached to his old car keys. Since he didn’t drive anywhere anymore, he tended to not have them on him as often as he probably should. He just kept forgetting to take them off and attach them to something else.

Now there was something he was pretty good at doing. Forgetting. 

“Daphne! Can you get the pan out of the oven? The chicken should be ready,” He heard his mother’s voice call out from the other side of the door as she approached. 

Seconds later the front door swung open, revealing Violet Bridgerton on the other side. She looked like she always did. Like she’d stepped out of a Ralph Lauren catalog. Dressed in a baby blue blouse and sleek, white dress pants, her dark curls pinned up in their usual chignon hairstyle with a pair of dangling pearl earrings flicking from side to side like a pendulum as she move.

“Hello, my darling!” his mother exclaimed happily as she opened the door and saw him, face breaking out into a wide, excited smile.

And, almost immediately, Benedict’s body relaxes. His worries disappeared as he relished in his mother’s excitement at seeing him. Immediately feeling better in her presence. 

God, he was such a mama’s boy. 

“Hi, Mum,” he said with a smile of his own as he stepped into the house and pecked her cheek, before bringing his arm around and showing her the bouquet of flowers he’d gotten her. “Brought you these.”

“Oh, hyacinths! My favorite,” she remarked excitedly, taking the bouquet and bringing them to her face, inhaling their sweet, floral scent. “Thank you, Benedict. Let me go put these in a vase.” 

Benedict followed his mother, closing the door behind him as he entered Number 5, while she headed towards the kitchen. They passed through the living room on the way, where Benedict’s youngest sister, named after the flowers he'd bought his mother, was laying, spread out, across the sofa, texting.

“Hyacinth, get off that phone,” Violet tsked as she walked by. “Can you try to socialize? Please?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Benedict saw his sister roll her eyes. But she at least sat up, briefly shutting her phone off to temporarily abide by her mother’s brief demands.

“Hey Benedict,” Francesca greeted as she stepped into the room, having come down the stairs when she heard the front door open.

“Hey Fran,” Benedict returned, giving his sister a quick hug and small peck on the forehead. “How are you?”

“Good,” his sister told him as she pulled back. “How’s work?”

“Busy, as usual,” Benedict answered. 

“Francesca. Where’s Eloise?” Violet asked, noticing only one of her daughters had come down from upstairs

“On the phone,” Francesca told her. “She was finishing up a call.”

“You all and your phones,” their mother shook head. “Tell her dinner’s in five.”

“Eloise!” Benedict called out over his shoulder, loudly, voice echoing out into the foyer. “Dinner. Now.”

“I’m coming!” Eloise shouted back from upstairs, annoyed. 

“Oh, thank you Benedict. What would I do without you?” his mother said gratefully, before she disappeared into the kitchen.

“Mama’s boy,” he heard Hyacinth mutter under her breath from the couch right as their mother left the room.

“And good evening to you, Hy. How are you?” Benedict asked loudly, in a manner he knew would annoy her. For added measure, he reached over the sofa and ruffled her hair, messing up her smooth, curled locks, which he knew she’d spent hours doing.

His little sister gasped, flinching away from him, appalled. “Benedict!” she screeched, throwing her hands up towards her head, trying to assess the damage. “Mum! Benedict being annoying.”

“Hyacinth, leave your brother alone!” his mother called back from the kitchen, unfazed, and his baby sister groaned. Years of constantly throwing Gregory under the bus had led their mother to be skeptical of Hyacinth whenever she directed accusations at her siblings for being bothersome.

So, Benedict merely smiled cockily at his little sister and escaped off into the kitchen before she could retaliate. Playing the dutiful son and helping his mother and sister with getting the food on the dinner table. 

—

Dinner went ahead with relative ease. Benedict sat next to his mother, who was at the head of the table, while his sisters all sat on the other side of him. That was, until Violet turned her attention towards Benedict half way through. She’d been so focused on his sister’s lives, on checking in and getting updates, that Benedict had been somewhat distracted by the time she’d gotten to him. When it was finally his turn.

“How about you Benedict? Anything new happened at work?” his mother suddenly asked.

“Well, there’s a new assistant. Coral’s replacement,” he answered without thinking. “She’s been really impressive so far. Been putting me in my place if I’m honest,” he then chuckled fondly, a small smile tugging at his lips as he thought about Sophie. “I’m kind of surprised Agatha has her as a secretary given how hard working she is. She probably would have been an amazing solicitor.”

“Oh!” 

Immediately Benedict froze. 

Shit.

He’d forgotten who he was talking to. How observant his mother was. How easily she detected there was more being left unsaid. And then there was the 'oh'. He knew that ‘oh’. It was her excited ‘oh’. The Violet Bridgerton signature my-child-has-feelings-for-another-and-that-means-I-might-get-a-wedding-and-more-grandbabies oh. Add to this his mother being the biggest romantic in all of Great Britain, she was not going to let this go now.

He was screwed. 

Act casual, Bridgerton. Don’t give your mother any signs you’ve been thinking non stop about the pretty, new assistant that made you feel something for the first time since your accident, and subsequent amnesia, since you first laid eyes on her. That you can’t get her out of your head and keep fantasizing about her perfect, little fingers pushing through your hair and tugging on the strands. That you keep thinking about the feel of her soft lips against yours and constantly wonder if it would be just like how you dreamed it. 

“So, what’s her name?” Violet asked. 

Benedict hesitated, trying to come up with an answer that didn’t involve giving his mother enough information to stalk Sophie. She’d probably show up at Sophie's doorstep to give her a list of reasons why she should date her son, even though Benedict was nowhere near being able to ask her out yet. They had yet to have a conversation that didn’t end with Sophie glowering at him in a way that looked like she was trying to explode him with her mind.

He loved his mother, dearly, but he also knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it from her now. And that she had a tendency, god bless her, to get involved where she shouldn’t. Even if it was for the sake of her children’s happiness.

“Well?” his mother asked, patiently. 

“Her name’s…Sophie,” Benedict finally said, still hesitant. 

“What a lovely name. And you like her?” Violet then asked, knowingly. Smiling in a manner to suggest she was trying to hold back her excitement. Benedict knew his mother was currently hearing wedding bells. She always did when one of them started seeing someone or mentioned a crush. Started planning out their futures for them without asking.

“Yeah, she seems…nice,” Benedict said finally, trying to keep his voice flat and uninterested as his nerves got the better of him.

Across the table, his sisters’ all gave him matching, judgemental looks (minus Hyacinth who was still busy texting on her phone). As if they were all silently and simultaneously saying ‘Seriously? That’s it?’ 

Ah, he’d forgotten that they were here too. His darling little sisters. 

“Nice?” Daphne asked, a dark, copper brow raised. “That’s all you have to say about her?”

“All right, she’s pretty,” Benedict added. 

“Is this woman a cardboard cut out?” Eloise commented next, sarcastically, and Benedict rolled his eyes at her. “She’s just nice and pretty?”

“She’s smart. Competent. Elegant. Kind . Is that better?” he asked her, listing different attributes he’d noticed about Sophie. Daphne only sighed disappointingly in response before taking another sip of her wine, while Eloise rolled her eyes.

“So, you work with her? She’s your new assistant?” Francesca asked to clarify, confused. “Did you finally fire Rosamund?”

“No,” he quickly answered and all four of them groaned, heads falling back as they moaned while Benedict tried not to roll his eyes again. “We do work together, yes, but she’s not my assistant.”

“And she likes you as well?” Daphne then asked. 

“I think so,” Benedict answered, which was frankly a lie. Sophie hadn’t really shown anything but annoyance and/or disgust towards him these past few days, but his sisters did not need to know that. 

“You think?” Hyacinth said back, mockingly, only now looking up from her phone, having only been half listening to the conversation. 

It was now Benedict’s turn to groan. Could this conversation on his love life just end already? 

Here he was over thirty years old and his baby sisters still knew how to make him feel like a juvenile. Like he was thirteen with a silly, schoolyard crush that would go nowhere. He was older than all of them for god’s sake. Shouldn’t they know how to respect their elders?

“Girls, leave your brother alone,” their mother suddenly ordered from her seat at the head of the table.

At least someone was in his corner. Even if it was apparent his mother looked to be greatly enjoying herself as she observed the back and forth between her son and four daughters. 

“Thank you, mother,” he told her quietly and Violet only smiled sweetly back   

“God, Benedict. Your love life might be worse than Colin’s was,” Eloise then remarked. 

“And that’s certainly saying something,” Daphne added. 

“You all are very annoying. Have I told you this before?” he asked them all.

“Yes,” they all swiftly replied in unison.

“Girls…” Violet said again, warningly this time. She then looked over to Benedict and smiled. “Well, I think this Sophie sounds lovely. And I think it's a good thing you're getting yourself out there again. It’s been too long, sweetheart. You deserve to be happy.”

Benedict felt his cheeks begin to burn. “Thank you, mother.”

“Maybe getting pegged might finally fix you,” Eloise said mockingly into her wine glass and Benedict’s head snapped in her direction.

“I heard that Eloise,” Violet commented before he could say anything, her pale eyes narrowed. “I suggest you refrain from mentioning such topics at the dinner table.” 

“Yes, mother,” Eloise deadpanned back.

The conversation soon slowly shifted towards discussing Francesca's new job, letting Benedict finally get off the hook and stop being the center of attention. The center of his sister’s mockery. He returned to his meal, quietly listening to his siblings chat and gossip, hoping the rest of dinner would go somewhat smoother. 

“Wait!” Hyacinth said suddenly, perking up in her seat like she’d been struck by lightning. “Rose-bitch is still working for you?” 

Benedict groaned, dropping his fork onto his plate. Hyacinth’s remark only renewed the conversation he’d hoped wouldn’t come up. He was stuck, sitting slumped in his chair, as his sisters started up again on why he needed to fire Rosamund, complaining and ranting about why she was still working for him. All while his mother politely tried to steer the conversation elsewhere. 

So much for a peaceful home cooked meal.

—

“You can stay the night, sweetheart. I don’t mind. You know I keep all your rooms ready in case any of you need.”

“I’m over thirty, Mum,” he told her with a sigh. “I can take a cab.”

Violet chewed her lower lip. “I know,” she told him, her hand clutching the wooden beam around the front door. “I just…I worry about you. That’s all.”

“I know,” he replied. “But I’m fine. Really.”

But his mother only silently studied him, no doubt holding back what she really wanted to say. To pester him into telling her the trust, which Benedict really hoped she wouldn’t do.

“You should go for it,” Violet finally said. “With this Miss Sophie. You should…try. Ask her out. Get out there again.”

“I need to get to know her a little better before I can do that, Mum,” Benedict replied. “Besides, she’s a secretary. It might not be a good idea for me to–”

“I was a secretary when I met your father,” his mother quickly interjected, looking annoyed.

“And he was an intern,” Benedict retorted back with a laugh. “We’ve all heard the story.”

Violet only rolled her eyes. “I was also his boss’s daughter. He could have very easily been fired if we were discovered.”

“Because that would have stopped you two?” Benedict then asked, brow raised. 

His mother only let out a dramatic sigh and shook her head. “You should still try,” she then said. “If not with this Sophie, you can try with someone else. Start dating again. You spend too much time alone, Benedict and I think you should have someone too. A partner of your own.”

Benedict sighed. “I know, Mum. And I’ve tried. I have. It’s just…it’s off.”

“What do you mean, sweetheart?”

He took a deep breath, the cold, evening wind blowing around them as he tried to find the words, before sighing again.

“I don’t know. It’s like there’s this piece missing in me, like I’m trying to find the final piece of a puzzle but I don’t know where I put it. Which is pretty ironic for me when you think about it,” he told her, laughing pathetically at his own self-deprecating joke. Which only made his mother’s frown deepen so he stopped. “Every time I went out with someone, after the accident, I just…I knew they weren’t the one. Straight off the bat, I knew. That that piece was still missing. The hole was always still there.”

And then he’d met Sophie and for a second something had clicked inside him. The piece finally found its home. But it wasn’t possible. People didn’t fall in love at first sight.

“And with Sophie…did something change?” his mother asked carefully. 

“I…I think so,” he told her. “But I’m not sure. And I don’t want to scare her off. Because it’s already apparent that she’s not my biggest fan.”

His mother’s frown deepened, but now it had gone from sympathetic to annoyed. “Benedict Charles Bridgerton, what did you do?” she demanded, sternly.

“I don’t know!” he told her, getting defensive. “I have no idea what I did to piss her off. I’ve been my usual, charming self, with her mother. More so in fact.” 

Yes, he might have gone a little overboard, but he was just trying to be helpful. He had just been trying to get to know her. And he'd learn that being helpful and kind tended to get you in someone's good graces quicker. But with Sophie it didn't seem to matter what he did. She just didn't like him.

Violet hummed. “Well, did you apologize?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Did you apologize?” his mother repeated. “You could ask her what you’ve done to upset her. And I know I raised you well enough to apologize properly. Maybe you can ask her for a do over? Try to make it up to her.”

“Maybe,” Benedict said, unsure if his mother’s idea would work. Unsure if Sophie would even want to speak to him. 

Stepping out of the doorway and onto the front steps with him, Violet placed her hands on his shoulders before running one soothingly over his hair.

“You’d be surprised what an honest conversation with someone can do," she told him. "Take a day to figure out what you want to say and then say it. Be upfront and honest. Tell her you didn’t mean to do anything to upset her and see where it goes.”

“Okay,” Benedict said, knowing his mother wouldn’t let it go and let him leave unless he agreed to everything she was telling him. “I will.”

“Good,” Violet smiled victoriously as she let go of his shoulders and stepped back, before quickly adding. “And then you convince this girl to go out with you, fall madly in love with one another, get married and give me more little grandbabies to spoil.”

“Ah, there it is,” Benedict commented, letting his head fall back, but he smiled nonetheless. "The real reason you're helping me."

“I’m about to be an empty nester, Benedict,” his mother reminded him. “Hyacinth goes off to uni next year. It’s gotten too quiet in the house and Eloise found a new apartment since Penelope moved in with your brother. I’m getting lonely.” 

“Maybe you get lucky and Hyacinth fails her A-levels and has to repeat them,” Benedict deadpanned.

“Do not put that idea into the world, Benedict,” his mother said, eyes wide, momentarily alarmed by his suggestion. 

But Benedict only chuckled. “Love you to, Mum,” he said as he leaned over and pecked her cheek. “Night.”

“Text me when you're home safe, alright?” his mother said impulsively. She tended to say that to him a lot more now. Ever since his accident. 

“I will,” he replied as he jogged down the front steps. He would text her the moment he was home. Like he always did.

“And get some rest!” she called out after him.

“I will!” he repeated. 

“And ask this girl out on a date!”  

“I will!” 

Eventually. But he didn't say that part out loud.

Chapter Text

| Six Years Ago |

“Come on. Pick up, please,” Sophie quietly pleaded, chewing on her lower lip as the phone rang.

It had been weeks, a month and two weeks specifically, since she and Benedict had last spoken. Since she’d last seen him. Since she’d told him she was pregnant. Since he’d missed the first appointment with the OB. Sophie had been at a loss ever since, filled with worry and concern. 

As she paced back and forth, calling Benedict for the eight time this week, she subconsciously rubbed her stomach. At fourteen weeks now, the bump had just started to show. Her little peanut, as she’d decided to call the fetus, slowly grew bigger inside with each passing day. Perfectly as her OB had told her during her last appointment, without a single cause for concern. 

And her morning sickness was now mercifully gone, replaced with cravings for granny smith apples and her godfather’s japchae. Since they’d been told, her godparents had filled her fridge with leftovers and side dishes, so she didn’t need to worry about cooking. All the foods she enjoyed, well, currently enjoyed. There had been a little bit of trial and error as Sophie’s little peanut figured out what they liked and did not like. The Crabtrees had been making sure she took care of herself ever since they’d learned Benedict had disappeared, and they’d been focused on making sure she ate. 

Not that she’d been able to in the past few weeks. Remove the morning sickness and all that prevented her from eating was immense worry for Benedict. He’d failed to show up to the first appointment, after he’d said he’d pick her up, and she had no idea why. Sophie had been forced to run to the nearby bus station just to make it in time, after it became apparent to her she was going to miss her appointment if she kept waiting for him. And then he didn’t show up at the hospital either, didn’t call or text letting her know why or where he was. She tried but got nothing back. Not even in the days after. 

Then her texts and calls had then gone unanswered. Days had turned into a week which then became two and then three, and still, she hadn’t heard from him. She tried calling his work but they had told her he was out due to a family emergency. Which had only worried her more. Sophie had hoped everything was alright. That nothing had happened to his mother or siblings, but she still didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just text her and tell her that. 

So, finally, she decided to go to him. She had a key to his apartment and, in a moment of anger and fear, decided she’d go over and see if he was there. Go give him a piece of her mind.

Only, that had turned into a disaster. One which had had Sophie fleeing his apartment building in a panic and distraught. Feeling sick to her stomach. She’d spent the whole train ride back wiping tears from her eyes, until she was safely in her apartment and under the covers. Which was when she’d allowed herself to finally cry.  

Then she’d gone back to calling and periodically texting, not giving up until he spoke to her himself. She refused to take someone else’s word over his. If Benedict said they were done, then he could be a big boy and do it himself. Not have his brother do it for him.

So, she persisted. She’d bother him every day until he answered, and she knew she could do it. Marilla said she could be as stubborn as a mule sometimes, something she’d apparently gotten from her father, so stubborn she would be. 

Even if the fear still wrapped itself around her organs, tying them into tight knots, trying to make her stop. Do not bother calling anymore and just give up. The fear of what would happen if he picked up.

Which finally happened. 

Today.

“Hello?” Benedict’s voice asked from the other end and Sophie felt her shoulders sag in relief. Finally, she had confirmation. He was okay.

“Benedict! It’s me. Are you okay? I’ve been trying to reach you for–” Sophie started quickly, feeling hope bloom in her chest for the first time in weeks. 

“You need to stop calling me,” Benedict suddenly interrupted. 

She stopped, frozen in place. As quickly as hope had begun building in her, it was snuffed out with a quick puff. A sharp intake of breath was all Sophie could do as she felt her heart stop in her chest. Felt the floor give out under her. 

“What?” she whispered. “Why?”

On the other end, Benedict only sighed, sounding frustrated. For a second, she thought she heard whispers in the background. Was someone else with him?

“I don’t know why you got the assumption I cared about you, but you need to move on. It’s over. Alright? It meant nothing to me,” he then told her, flatly. “You need to stop calling me. It’s embarrassing.”

The world was suddenly closing in on her, in her tiny studio apartment. A band had wrapped itself around her and begun to squeeze, making it harder for her to get air into her lungs. Her vision began to tunnel, the edges going dark, and she swayed, feeling as if she would collapse as Benedict continued on. Stabbing her heart with each word that came out of his mouth. 

“You know that, right? Constantly calling and texting. It makes you look desperate,” he continued.

Sophie swallowed, shocked. “B-but Ben I–” she tried to find the words, tried to explain, but her throat had closed up. The hand over her stomach, over their little peanut, clenched tightly around the fabric of her shirt as she tried to keep herself grounded. 

“Don’t contact me again. Or I’ll go to the police and report you for stalking,” he then said, snappish. “From this point on, we’re nothing more than strangers. Got it?”

Sophie couldn’t say anything. Her vocal cords had seized. A small whimper was all that slipped out, followed by a weak sniffle. 

Then, Benedict sighed. “Listen, I’m sure you’ll find someone. But I’m not that someone. I never was. I’m sorry, really, but this just wasn’t ever going to work. You need to move on.”

Again, for a second, Sophie thought she heard someone in the background. Hissing at Benedict to stop being nice, but she couldn’t think properly. She wasn’t sure if she’d heard it. Her mind focused elsewhere.

Her mind focused on the fact that Benedict, a man who had told her he loved her and wanted to be with her for the rest of her life, was currently breaking up with her. 

“I-I don’t understand,” she finally got out. “Benedict. I-I love you.”

“Move on,” was all Benedict said, emotionless again. “Move on and do better. And leave me and my family out of it.”

The line went dead. He’d hung up on her without even saying goodbye. 

She stood there, in the middle of her apartment, stunned. Shocked to her core. Her mind was still trying to process all the things he had just said to her. Frozen in place, Sophie stood with her phone still pressed against her ear as if the line would magically reconnect and Benedict would tell her it was all just some horrible, horrible joke. 

It was over. He said it was over. After he told her he wanted this, that he wanted to be involved, that he wanted their child, he’d just turned his back on her. Cast her aside and abandoned her to raise their child alone. 

Just like her father had to her mother.

She could feel it building. The pain. The heartbreak. It felt like her chest was caving in, crushing her heart in its wake, not that it didn’t already feel like it was being torn apart. She felt sick. 

She let go over her shirt, moving her hand to feel where the baby was, not that the peanut had grown to a point to start making their presence known. But Sophie held her hand over them, her own lifeline. It would be just her and the little peanut now. No Benedict. No father. 

History had repeated itself, just like she’d feared it would. 

| Present Day |

Sophie might as well just create a conspiracy board at this point.

It had been nagging her. What Colin said. Not that he can remember . For some reason she just couldn’t let it go. She kept wondering what he meant by it. So much so that she'd barely been able to get any sleep that night, her mind jumping from theory to theory as she lay in her bed struggling to find any rest. To focus on trying to find an explanation, but her mind just kept connecting the dots. 

The scar. Her mind kept going back to it. The half crescent shaped line above his brow. Add to it how nonchalant he was around her, acting like he didn’t know her, she was now getting suspicious. He had not once brought up their relationship, their past, and he gave no inclination to her that he would. 

And then Kate said something too.

Agatha had sent her looking for old case files. A previous client had come back for help on a civil matter and the previous case had information that would be beneficial to helping the new one. Only problem was that it was a paper copy only, the case having been one of Bridgebury Counsel first, and the old files had been moved around and reorganized since then. Sophie had thought Kate might know where they were now so she’d asked after running into her in the breakroom.

“I’m sorry Sophie, but I don’t,” she’d said. “That was all done unfortunately before my time. I think a bunch of the paper files got moved to the third floor, but the rest are still in the basement. They were supposed to be digitized but I don’t know if that was ever done. Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s alright. I’ll just ask Mr. Bridgerton then. Maybe he knows,” Sophie suggested. 

But Kate had just waved a hand and shook her head. “He won’t. The reorganizing was done when he first started working here out of uni and Benedict doesn’t remember much from those days. But I’ll text my husband and ask. He might know where they went.”

Then she’d moved on with the conversation, leaving Sophie confused. Didn’t remember much from his early days. Why would Benedict not remember anything from then? 

She tried a google search first. Benedict’s family was well known, enough that there were periodic news articles and tabloid discussion on them. She’d given up magazines because of it, scared she’d open one and find a photo of Benedict with his new beau, to be faced with further confirmation he’d moved on from her, but upon typing in a bunch of suggestions, Google gave her nothing. All she found was an article, an announcement really, dated seven months after they’d broken up, that talked about Benedict returning to Bridgebury Co. after a brief sabbatical but the article didn’t say why he’d taken it. If it was for personal or professional reasons. 

But Sophie remembered, when she’d called his work years ago, they had told her he was out for a family emergency. But when she tried looking up if his siblings had had any health or emergency issues, there was nothing about that either. Nothing but an article from a decade before they met about his mother and a difficult labor she’d gone through with her last child. Other than that, the Bridgerton seemed to be an overall happy and healthy family. 

So, she tried her colleagues next. Tentatively bringing up the conversation with Theo, she only went down another dead end. Theo told her he’d started after Benedict’s return, and that all he remembered people saying was that Benedict had spent most of that time at the Bridgerton family’s summer home in Kent. He thought it was for personal reasons, but no one in the office knew why he’d taken it, still didn’t, and Benedict had never told anyone when asked. Not that anyone had had the balls to ask him.

“He was pretty intimidating when I first met him,” Theo told her sheepishly. “He still kind of is. That guy is like ice cold sometimes.”

Another thing Sophie had noted. His personality had changed. He seemed colder. Quieter. More serious at times. Which was the complete opposite of the man she’d met years ago. When she’d dated Benedict he’d been the life of the party, far more laid back and relaxed then she was. Always going with the flow. Which had sometimes infuriated Sophie, who liked to have everything planned and was always prepared for the smallest of problems no matter the situation. 

Now, he was more serious. She’d seen how he directed the younger solicitors around, he’d get stern and unforgiving sometimes, even over the smallest of mistakes. She’d taken the fall for Theo only a few days ago, noting how Benedict wasn’t inclined to tell her off the way he did the others. Which had, frankly, ticked her off at the time. She didn’t like special treatment. And she’d noted Benedict was giving it to her.

Which didn’t make any sense !

But, while Theo didn’t know, there was one other person Sophie could potentially ask. Although, she really didn’t want to.

Agatha.

Her boss, having been one of the co-founders with the late Bridgerton patriarch, was a close family friend. If anyone might have an idea of what happened to Benedict, besides his family, it might be her. 

In the end Sophie, after building enough courage, took the opportunity to ask Agatha about it after their weekly meeting. When she and Agatha would meet to go over cases and work, to make sure Sophie knew what she was doing before the next meeting. Sophie decided to ask her after it was over, before returning to her desk outside the office. 

“I wanted to ask you a question. About Mr. Bridgerton,” Sophie told her.

“Yes?” Agatha asked. 

“Um…well…” Sophie suddenly couldn’t speak, her tongue tying into a knot. The courage she’d spent hours building, telling herself over and over that she could do this, had cowardly flown out the window the moment she opened her mouth.

Sitting behind her desk, unmoving, Agatha watched her patiently, her piercing eyes bearing into Sophie, which only made her more anxious. She waited as Sophie finally regained the ability to speak. 

“Did something happen to Mr. Bridgerton?” she finally asked, hesitantly.

One of Agatha’s dark brows popped up sharply, like a guillotine’s blade. 

“Pardon?”

“With Benedict. Did something happen to him?” Sophie repeated, feeling more nervous with each word she spoke. “His brother said something to me and then Kate…well…she alluded to something having happened as well. A few years ago. It sounded like he had memory issues.”

Agatha watched her, silently, for a moment before she sighed. Her shoulders relaxed as she took a deep breath. Seeming rather defeated as she reached up and pulled the half moon spectacles from her face. 

“Yes, yes, I suppose something did happen,” she told her sadly, before sighing again. As if contemplating whether or not to say what she said next. “I suppose since you will be working with him closely at times it may be beneficial for you to know this. Benedict was in an accident a few years ago.”

Sophie’s heart almost stuttered to a complete stop. 

“What?” she said, her voice coming out small. Practically a gasp. “When?”

“About six years ago,” Agatha answered simply. “It was a hit and run, while he was heading to work one morning. This bastard purposefully tried to run him down and kill him. And Benedict–” she sighed. “There were many injuries, but the worst had been to his brain. It had been bad enough that the doctors had to put him in an induced coma to allow it time to heal.”

Sophie was only half listening now. It was like she was suddenly underwater. Her ears had begun to fill with static, muffling Agatha’s voice. 

Six years ago. The accident was six years ago. Charles was conceived six years ago. It would explain why he disappeared. Why he didn’t show up for the appointment with the OB/GYN that day after calling her. If he’d been in an accident that morning, with no way of telling her, she wouldn’t have had a way to find out. She’d been worried something happened, gone looking for him only to find his–

Oh God. He could have died !

“He did wake up, thank God for that,” Agatha continued. “But he had about four years of memories missing from his head. His family did what they could to help fill in the blanks, but he wasn’t the same man he was before the accident.”

Four years. 

Four years of time missing from his memories .

Sophie felt sick. Acidic bile tickling at the back of her throat. All these years she’d thought he’d just abandoned her, when the truth was far worse. 

“I-I uh…I didn’t know,” she stuttered out, still trying to process her shock.

“Please do keep this information to yourself,” Agatha gently requested of her. “You must understand. It was a very difficult time for his family, and they did everything in their power to keep it out of the papers. The press were vultures when Edmund died, and I have no doubt they would have been ten times worse if they’d learned about this. And especially now, if they found out about his amnesia.”

Shakily, Sophie nodded. “I won’t. I promise.” 

Agatha gave her a small smile. “I didn’t believe for a moment that you would, but the Bridgertons are like family to me. I have to make sure they are protected.” 

Sophie only nodded again. The capability of speech had momentarily left her. 

She still couldn’t believe it. All this time. All these years. The reason for her separation from Benedict was something as simple as memory loss.

“Ms. Baek?” Agatha’s voice suddenly snapped Sophie back to attention.

“Yes,” she hummed.

“Everything alright?” her boss asked, watching her carefully.

She nodded, a bit too quickly. “Sorry, yes, I was just thinking,” she told Agatha. “I don’t know how someone could go through losing…so much time. Like that.”

“Yes, well Benedict certainly has tried to act as though it does not affect him, I’ve sensed from time to time that these missing years bother him,” Agatha said. “He seemed almost…lost. Adrift perhaps. If I had to put a word on it.”

“Is there anything I should do?” Sophie asked her.

She didn’t even know if she should do anything. What did you do for someone with amnesia?  Especially someone who's also your ex boyfriend and the father of your child, only has no idea because he now doesn’t remember every meeting with you. Sophie didn’t think there was a Hallmark card for that. She doubted ‘Sorry you lost four years of memory and forgot we had a relationship and a son, who’s now six’ would fit on a cake. 

Agatha only shook her head. “I’ve found with Benedict it’s best to treat him as if nothing has happened. He can tell when he’s getting special treatment because of his memory loss and he doesn’t react well to it. If you continue pretending as if you don’t know about it, I’m certain you’ll both have no issues working together.”

How was she even supposed to continue working with him now? 

“Your son, Charlie. His birthday is coming up isn't it?” Agatha then asked.

“Yes, in a few weeks,” Sophie answered. 

“Well, I suggest putting in your PTO request soon, if you want to take the day,” her boss reminded her, with a small smile and a wink. 

“Oh! Oh, it’s fine,” Sophie assured. Not wanting to make a bad impression at her new job, she’d already planned Charles’ birthday in advance, back when she’d started. Making sure to find a way to balance both work and his celebration. “I’ll probably just need to leave early, that day. If it’s alright.” 

“It’s fine with me, Sophie,” Agatha told her gently. 

“Thank you,” she replied, swallowing.

“Anything else, Ms. Baek? Need any more gossip and lore about this place?” 

“No. Thank you, Mrs. Danbury. I’ll just…I'll just go now,” Sophie told her, shaking her head, before quickly fleeing the office. 

She was in a fog for the rest of the day. Her mind having become clouded by shock and disbelief. Walking around the office in a daze, she’d spent most of the day sitting at her desk doing nothing. She’d blinked and suddenly it was 5pm and time for her to leave to pick up Charles.

He’d forgotten about her. Benedict. He’d had a life changing accident, one where he had almost died, and he’d forgotten all about her. About their relationship. About the pregnancy. Everything they’d done together. 

She’d spent the first few years after their breakup wondering why. Why he’d ended the relationship, and she’d been unable to come to a definitive conclusion. She’d finally just settled on him being exactly like her father. A wealthy man who’d found himself suddenly saddled with a child he did not want so he chose to leave. To ignore the child’s existence. Move on with his life. The way that men could when they found themselves in these situations.

She just couldn’t understand why Benedict would do it, after knowing what she’d been through. She’d never been able to understand why he’d been so cruel. She’d given him an out, when she’d revealed the pregnancy. When they’d spoken about their next steps she’d told him she didn’t mind, that she’d do it alone.

“You don’t have to do this,” she’d finally told him, softly. “I’m giving you an out. Right now. I’m opening the door so you don’t need to. We’ve only been dating for a year. You don’t need to be saddled with…with this . If you don’t want to be involved, you don’t need to. You can walk away and I won’t judge you for it.”

But Benedict had only looked at her like she’d grown another head. Silently staring at her like he couldn’t believe she’d just said that to him. 

“Sophie, I want this,” he’d said, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles so carefully she could still feel them ghosting over her skin when she thought about it. “But I want to be with you . With this baby. And I will give up everything I have to make that happen. To spend the rest of my life with you.”

Which was why she couldn’t understand why, weeks later, it had been the complete reverse. 

I don’t know why you got the assumption I cared about you, but you need to move on. It’s over . 

It meant nothing to me.

And now? Now she’d discovered he’d had possibly the most legitimate excuse for it.

He’d just forgotten. He’d literally forgotten she existed.

Sophie could only laugh. Of all the things that could have happened. 

But it didn’t explain the phone call. Why he’d acted the way he had. When he’d finally called her back weeks later, after he failed to show up to the appointment, after she’d left him multiple messages and gone to his apartment, trying to get an answer for why he had suddenly begun ghosting her. Had she done something wrong? Had she upset him somehow? Said the wrong thing like she always did. She’d thought she’d must have, with how his brother had spoken to her and then he’d finally called her and–

Don’t contact me again. Or I’ll go to the police and report you.

From this point on, we’re nothing more than strangers.

She’d been lost in her thoughts as she picked up Charles, giving him a weak hug as she greeted him and then only half-listening to him tell her about his day as they headed down the sidewalk and towards the underground station. Charles barely even noticed she was out of it, clutching her hand tightly as he excitedly told her about his day.

Then another voice snapped her back to attention.

“ Charlie !” a small voice yelled out excitedly behind them.

Charles gasped in surprise, a wide excited smile spreading over his face as he let go of Sophie’s hand and quickly spun around. Sophie was quick to follow, turning and spotting a little boy running towards, with a familiar woman pushing a stroller hastily after him.

“Neddy!” Charles squealed, rushing forward. 

The two boys practically collided with one another as they met, wrapping their arms around one another as they tightly hugged, giggling excitedly as they began bouncing up and down. As they did, Sophie recognized the woman speeding after Neddy, while pushing a fancy stroller at the same time, was Kate. 

“Ms. Sharma?” Sophie said aloud, surprised to see her colleague walking towards her. 

“Ms. Baek, what a surprise,” Kate replied, smiling, a little out of breath from chasing her son down the street. As she spotted Charles, she quickly put two and two together as well. “Oh! Are you Charlie’s mother?”

Sophie nodded, blinking slowly. Her brain beginning to focus on her surroundings again.

“And you must be Neddy’s mum," she returned, politely.

Well, that was certainly a more pleasant surprise than what she’d learned earlier today. Sophie had come to like and respect Kate, through the few brief chats that they'd had since she'd started.

“I am, yes. Neddy has been talking nonstop about your little Charlie,” Kate told her. “It appears our sons have become quite good friends.”

“Well, Charlie has been telling me all about his new friend, Neddy. Haven’t you, sweetheart?” she asked, looking down at her son, who had just let go of Neddy.

Charles nodded happily. “Neddy’s my best friend,” he told Kate.

“Can we have a playdate now, Amma?” Neddy then begged his mother. “Please, please, please.”

“Please, Mama, please,” Charles pleaded to Sophie as well. 

Kate chuckled. “We’re a bit busy today for one, buddy,” she told him before looking towards Sophie. “He’s been desperate to set one up since he first told me about his new friend.”

“So, has Charlie,” Sophie said back with a polite smile.

“Then I doubt we will hear the end of it if we don’t plan one now,” Kate said, pulling out her phone. “I suspect you have as intense of a schedule as I do, so how about this weekend? Does that work for you?”

“Well, Charlie and I had plans to go to the Natural History museum and then the Science Museum this Sunday, if you’d like to join us?” Sophie informed her. 

“Sounds like a perfect idea,” Kate said and then handed her phone over to Sophie. “Here. If you want to put your personal number in, we can keep work and home separate.”

Sophie nodded. She typed in her personal cell number into a contact and saved it, before shooting a quick text to her phone so she could put Kate’s info into hers. Her phone buzzed in her purse as the text went through and she handed the device back to Kate. 

“I’ll text you later about coordinating times,” Kate told her. “I would stay longer, but I have to get this one to karate practice. And our car is parked in the other direction.” 

“Of course,” Sophie told her, nodding. “It was good to see you.”

“You as well. Come on Neddy, time to go,” Kate replied.

“Bye Charlie. See you tomorrow,” Neddy said as he took his mother’s hand, waving to Charles with the other. 

“Bye Neddy,” Charles said back. 

Taking Charlie's hand again, Sophie turned back in the direction of the Tube stop they'd been heading towards, while Kate and Neddy walked in the opposite direction. As they departed, Sophie turned her attention to the message she'd sent herself from Kate's phone, quickly putting it into a new contact. And underneath the first and last name sections, which she’d filled in with Kate Sharma, she typed a little additional note. 

Neddy Sharma’s Mum. 

What a weird little coincidence.

Chapter Text

“How’s the city that never sleeps, brother?”

“Hell,” Anthony replied from miles away, though the phone. “I hate New York.”

Benedict laughed, dropping his briefcase next to his desk. As busy as they both could get, it was nice to catch up with his older brother. And Anthony always made sure to make time for him. More so in recent years. 

His brother had called him as he was coming into work, calling to check in and make sure Benedict was running the place the way he wanted it to be run in his absence. Surprising, since it was early in the morning in London and Anthony was only a few hours behind in New York.

“What time is it over there anyway?” he asked.

“One,” his brother replied with an exhausted sigh. “I just got back to the hotel.”

“Christ, Anthony, go to bed,” Benedict told him.

“I will. I will,” his brother said, dismissively, in the manner Benedict knew meant he wouldn’t. “Just making sure you haven’t burned the place down in my absence before I go to bed.”

“You know Kate and Agatha would never let that happen,” Benedict replied as he sat in his chair behind the desk, relaxing as he continued his call with his brother. 

“That’s true,” Anthony remarked. “Thank God for that.”

“Kate says your back next week?” he asked, continuing the conversation. 

“Hopefully,” was Anthony’s response. “If everything continues going smoothly here I should be done by Wednesday and be on a plane Thursday morning. Otherwise Kate will have my head.”

“Take her and the kids on a vacation. Or just you and her. I’m sure she’ll quickly forgive you,” Benedict advised him. 

“You think you can manage without us?” Anthony asked.

Benedict took a deep breath, trying not to roll his eyes. As if he hadn’t handled the firm multiple times without his brother being around, such as when his older brother’s went on his honeymoon (with Kate) or the paternity leave after Edmund had been born, and then again with Miles. Benedict was more than capable of handling matters at Bridgebury without Anthony breathing down his neck, and had for a few years now. His brother had yet to realize.

Somehow, in Anthony’s eyes, he was both completely inept at running the firm and also more than capable of managing more and more of it on his brother’s behalf. And it had been like this for years. 

Sometime, Benedict thought about leaving the firm, but he just didn't have any real reason to. And what was he supposed to do instead? Paint? Working at Bridgebury was hardwork, and kept him busy enough that he didn't need to think about how empty he felt at times. Didn't have time to think about or wallow in his loneliness, about the hole in his heart where he felt something was missing.

“I’m sure I’ll survive somehow,” he finally told his brother flatly. “It’s not like I have anything else going on in my life to focus on besides work.”

“Well, Mother says you’ve got your eyes on a secretary,” Anthony said, teasingly.

Oh, for God’s sake–

Benedict groaned, running a hand down his face as he slumped down in his chair. “Of course she told you.”

Was he not allowed some privacy?

On the other end, and across the pond, Anthony only laughed. “So you do, do you?” he asked, intrigued. 

“And what of it?” Benedict shot back, indignantly, which only made his brother laugh harder. 

“Well, as long as she’s a good fit for this family, and you don’t get yourself in trouble with HR, I know you can take care of yourself,” Anthony told him. “Mother’s right. It’s about time you settle down.”

“I will when I find the right one,” Benedict told him. 

“And you think this mysterious secretary might be it?” his brother asked.

Benedict opened his mouth to answer, even though he didn’t really have one, but a knock at his door cut him off. 

Right, he should probably get back to work then. 

“Come in,” he called out before lowering his voice. “Sorry. Gotta go. Talk to you soon.”

“Let me know how it goes with this new girl. I’m interested to hear more about her,” his brother said lightly. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Benedict said rather hastily, not really meaning it, just trying to end the conversation as his office door opened. “Bye.”

—

Taking a deep breath, Sophie reached out and rapped her knuckles on the door. 

She could do this. She was a big girl. She was a mother now for Christ’s sake. Being the bigger person wasn’t difficult. 

“Come in,” Benedict’s voice said from the other side. 

Except when the situation is a bloody catastrophe to begin with. 

Steadying her nerves, Sophie grabbed the handle of the door leading to Benedict’s office and opened it, stepping into the room. She couldn’t back down now. She was here at six in the morning just so she could talk with him, asking Marilla to take Charles to school today for her just so she could get here earlier than usual. 

And before Rosamund. Sophie had noticed her former stepsister usually came in late, between nine to ten in the morning each day, when Sophie was behind her desk and having started her day. Meanwhile, Benedict came in either before or around the same time that she did. So, Sophie knew he’d be in his office. With the secretary’s desk outside of it empty and quiet, she could easily sneak in without her former stepsister playing guard dog. 

The door creaked open and Sophie finally got a chance to see inside. She had yet to see her former flame’s office since she started, and while it had a similar layout to Agatha’s, with a similar color scheme of green and gold with dark mahogany furniture, the decorations were different. Little pieces and trinkets for decorations that matched Benedict’s personality, a model car of his green jaguar was on the shelf behind his desk along with a miniature painting easel that looked to not have much practical use besides holding pictures, which it had. A painting of a sun and a scribbled human in bright primary colors, a children’s drawing. 

The artwork on the walls were his tastes too. While Agatha’s and Kate’s offices held pieces of modern art that matched the rest of Bridgebury aesthetic, Benedict had impressionist pieces on the walls whose colors were a range of light pastels, mainly blues and greens, adding a softness to the room. 

Sophie frowned, curiously, as she stepped into the room, noting the paintings. All of her knowledge of art had come from Benedict, which was how she was able to distinguish the different styles. And while she’d always enjoyed impressionism, having always enjoyed a nice Monet, she was certain Benedict favored romanticism. He’d always had far more to say about those pieces than the others whenever they’d gone to the National Gallery. Making it odd she didn’t see any of the pieces in that style. 

And when Benedict saw her, he quickly got to his feet. 

“Ms. Baek,” he said, almost alarmed. 

“Hi,” Sophie breathed out, momentarily forgetting why she’d come here in the first place. She carefully took another step into the office, letting the door close behind her. 

“Is everything alright?” Benedict asked.

She nodded. “Yes. I just wanted to speak to you.” She paused as she tried to find the words. “For a moment.” Another pause, making her feel even more awkward. “If that was alright?”

“Of course,” Benedict told her. 

She hesitantly stepped closer, moving further in at a snail's pace, beginning to nervously pick at a hangnail on her thumb.

“I wanted to apologize,” she told him finally.

Benedict’s pale eyes widened in surprise, his dark brows jumping up. “For what?”

“For how I’ve been behaving towards you,” she clarified. “I realize I’ve been being unjustly rude to you.” 

“Ms. Beak, I–” Benedict started.

“It’s just…” Sophie stopped, struggling to find the words. How to dance around the truth.

She’d decided against telling Benedict who she was, or that she knew about his memory loss. She’d spent the night tossing and turning as she tried to figure out what to do. What she could even possibly do. 

While her heart had very easily decided to forgive him for his transgressions, of abandoning her to raise Charles alone, but her brain had hesitated. She still had too many unanswered questions. What had caused him to leave her in the first place? Was someone else behind it? Sophie had no idea where to start on answering those questions. She had no suspects because she had no clues to begin with.

And how was she supposed to tell him who she was now? What they’d been to one another once. How was she supposed to explain their past – explain Charles now? She couldn’t just walk into his office and declare herself as his ex and child’s mother, tell him that they’d practically been married with how they’d acted during that one wonderful year. He’d probably think she’d gone crazy. Anyone would.

So, Sophie had swallowed her pride, and her sorrow, coming to the conclusion that there was no way for her and Benedict to ever move forward now, and decided to just let bygones be bygones. It wasn’t his fault, she knew that now, but if it had been six years and he had still not regained a sliver of his memories of their relationship, it seemed unlikely to her that he ever would. 

Let them remain as strangers – colleagues only. It wasn’t as if the news of Benedict’s memory loss had convinced her to stay at Bridgebury. It had done the opposite. Fueling her previous decision to leave once she had enough experience to find a job elsewhere. She’d leave and close the chapter on her life that was Benedict Bridgerton, even when her heart was screaming at her that it was wrong not to tell him. To let him continue living in the dark, but it was for the best. 

“You…reminded me of someone I once knew,” she continued, finally finding the words. “Someone I was upset with, for a very long time, but I recently realized that I may have been taking my anger out on you when I shouldn’t have. So…I just wanted to tell you how truly sorry I am.” 

Benedict said nothing, which only made the anxiety gnawing on Sophie’s stomach, like a dog with a bone, grow. He watched her. Studied her. As if trying to figure her out. He seemed surprised by her apology, which only made her feel more nervous. 

Then he sighed and Sophie felt her stomach tighten even further. 

“Ms. Beak, if anyone owes apologies here, it’s me,” he told her.  

“Sorry?”

“I’ve…I may have been a bit too…forward with you,” Benedict said sheepishly, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I have no explanations for why I did it, and I won’t make any excuses either, but I realized in my effort to get to know you, to welcome you to the team, I may have been stepping out of line.”

“Oh! It’s fine really–” Sophie quickly tried to assure him. As surprised by his apology as he was by hers. 

“It’s not,” Benedict interjected, stepping towards her. “You have my sincerest apologies for any discomfort I may have caused you. I promise you, it won’t happen again. From this point on, I will be professional and courteous. A complete gentleman. If at any point you feel like I’m not, you are welcome to slap me back to my senses.” 

Sophie paused, frowning, as she replayed what he’d just said. 

“Do you mean figuratively or…literally?” she asked him, slowly, confused. 

Benedict only laughed, a bright smiling spreading across his face. “Whichever one you think is appropriate.”

“Well, I don’t think slapping one of my colleagues would be appropriate either,” she quickly told him. Completely serious. 

“If you change your mind, the offer still stands,” Benedict joked. 

“Thank you, but I doubt it will,” Sophie gently assured.

A soft silence descended between the two of them. Sophie glanced towards the office door. She should probably go. She’d said her piece and so had Benedict. 

“I um…I should,” she looked back at him and stopped. 

He was standing incredibly close to her, she realized. They somehow, during their awkward little apology dance, stepped around each other in a manner that got them to be only a foot or two away. Sophie was stuck, staring up at him, realizing how close he was. Forgetting how much taller he was to her that he always seemed to tower over her. 

Seeing how close enough he was she could feel her fingers itching out to touch him. And there was a small piece of lint resting on his shoulder, small enough to be barely noticeable but not to Sophie maternal hawk eyes, and all she wanted to do was reach out and take it. It would be enough of an excuse to run her hand over his lovely shoulder. 

One last touch , her heart encouraged gently. That’s all she needed. 

Then her brain suddenly snapped back to attention, sending out an alert to remind her that the man standing in front of her no longer knew who she was. How inappropriate it would be if she allowed her horny impulses to reach out and touch his chest. It was enough to send Sophie into an embarrassed spiral. Like alarm bells were suddenly going off in her head that screamed 'DANGER' while red light flashed about. She had to get out of here.

Just say good-bye and go. It’s not that hard , her mind ordered. And be polite, formal, and professional when you do so. Completely emotionless. You're not lovers anymore. You aren’t even friends. Just do something.

So, because she was the most awkward person in the world, Sophie impulsively stuck her hand out towards him.

“I look forward to further working with you,” she told him, trying to sound calm and professional yet the words slipped out a mile a minute, exposing her nerves. She must have looked like the biggest idiot right now. 

And while a brow briefly perked up in surprise on Benedict’s face, his crooked smile only grew, a crinkle appearing around his eyes that made the blue in them sparkle. Enough she almost got lost in them. Forgetting how handsome he was, with his boyish charm and good looks.

He then took her hand, gently holding it as he gave it a quick shake. 

“I look forward to working with you as well,” he then said gently, and Sophie was certain her face would melt off. 

She had to go. Before she became a puddle of anxiety and mortification at his feet. A puddle that once was Sophie Baek, mother of one and a complete embarrassing wreck in any social interaction 100% of the time. 

“I um…I should get back to my desk,” she quickly told him. 

Benedict only nodded, still smiling down at her. “Of course,” he said and let go of her hand. “See you around, Ms. Baek.”

“Same to you, Mr. Bridgerton,” she told him with a nod.

“Please. I’ve told you before,” Benedict said, voice soft. “You can call me Benedict.”

“Oh, I don’t know if that is appropriate.” Or a good idea. First names made this informal, and Sophie wanted to keep their relationship as formal as possible. Just till she was out of here. 

“I mean it,” he told her. “Besides, with my brothers working here, it's easier for the staff to use our first names. Causes less confusion.”

“Um…well…alright,” Sophie finally said, unable to find another excuse. “Just as long as you call me Sophie. Ms. Baek makes me feel old.” 

Benedict chuckled. “Of course…Sophie.”

A buzzing sensation flowed down over her back like a drop of water sliding down her skin, almost making Sophie shiver. She shouldn’t have agreed, shouldn’t have allowed him to start calling her by her first name. Again. She forgot how lovely it sounded when he said it, how he always spoke it like he was saying a desperate prayer. Staring down at her with hungry eyes that only fueled a fire burning in her lower abdomen. It made her heart start racing, and her stomach warm. Her body suddenly no longer hers to control. 

And she hated it sometimes. Hated how her body still responded to him like no time had passed between them. Desire coming before logic. How it pulled her towards him whenever she saw him, like a string of fate was tied around both their hearts. Trying to fit itself back into him.

But that couldn’t happen. Not anymore. Not ever again. 

“I’ll…see you around,” she told him, hesitantly, pointing awkwardly over her shoulder towards the door. 

Benedict only nodded politely, still watching her in a fond manner, and Sophie took it as the conversation being done. That she could leave. 

The door gentle shut behind her as she slipped back out into the hallway and Sophie leaned up against the door, eyes closed as she let out the breath she’d been holding, before opening them and looking up–

To find Rosamund standing behind her desk, in the middle of taking off a light rose colored, wool jacket that looked designer even to Sophie’s untrained eye. Her hair pin straight and falling down her back, with two pearl hair clips pinning the long strands back from her face. Looking as model-like as she always was. 

So Rosamund finally decided to be on time, for once. Good for her.

Her former stepsister froze in place as she looked up and saw Sophie exiting her boss’s office, still with one of her arms in her jacket sleeves. She then frowned, eyes narrowing.

Here we go . 

“And what do you think you are doing?” Rosamund immediately demanded the moment the door closed behind Sophie, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at her, annoyed. 

“Reviewing a case matter,” Sophie said flatly. “Mrs. Danbury wanted clarification on a memo Mr. Bridgerton is writing.”

“And you couldn’t just email?” Rosamund asked, raising one of her perfectly sculpted brows.

Sophie opened her mouth to argue, to snap back an annoyed and childish ‘no,’ to match that of Rosamund’s, before stopping, realizing the irony. How she’d once said the very same thing to Benedict when he’d been bothering her. 

“It was urgent,” she finally said. “I thought it best I just come speak with him directly.”

“Well, you could have just come to me.”

“You weren’t here. And it was important.”

Rosamund scoffed. “You haven’t changed, have you?”

Sophie frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“You think just because you're Danbury’s new bitch you get to do as you please,” she let out a petty sounding laugh. “Just like when we were growing up.”

All Sophie could do was stare at her former stepsister in disbelief. Just like…just like when they were growing up? When had Sophie ever done what she had wanted? 

“Everything always has to be about you and what you want,” Rosamund then said, snidely, all while Sophie tried to understand what she was saying. 

“When has it ever been about me?” Sophie said slowly, feeling an old wound begin to bleed again. 

Rosamund only rolled her dark chestnut colored eyes at her. “The lawsuit?” she said, like it was obvious. “Kicking us out of our home.”

“My father’s home you mean,” Sophie corrected, still speaking slowly so she could continue taking the deep calming breaths necessary to stop her from making a scene.

“That he left to my mother,” Rosamund snapped back, venomously. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was for us after that? The struggles we went through? My mother couldn’t show her The Allbright for months.”

Sophie bit the inside of her cheek. Hard. The final payout to her stepmother, after the lawsuit and mediation were over, had been a few million. A payout made from what Sophie’s father had left his wife in the will and the selling of stocks and shares Araminta had had in his company, all in exchange for an NDA and no further communication between the parties. 

It had been enough for her steprelatives to buy a very nice home in Knightsbridge and an apartment in Mayfair Sophie suspected Rosamund now lived in. And after the settlement had been signed, Sophie had finally seen the account for her inheritance and found it practically drained dry, proving her stepmother had lied to the court about the amount left in it. 

But by then, she’d been eight months pregnant and too exhausted to take her back to court. Not to mention confined to a hospital bed for the remainder of her pregnancy after she’d begun experiencing bleeding one morning. 

On paper, Sophie might have won the lawsuit, but the appeal and the mediation and settlement that had followed had allowed her stepmother to, once again, come out on top. 

So she was certain being kicked out of My Cottage wasn’t the issue bothering Rosamund, it was probably the inconvenience of having to move and the work that went with that. The entire time they lived together under one roof, Sophie had not once seen her stepsister raise a finger to help out with chores or housework once (that had mainly been Sophie’s job when she was home), let alone work a minimum wage job the way Sophie and Posy had. Sophie had been surprised to find out she worked at Bridgebury, but that had been before Theo had told her she’d been given the job by the Bridgertons. 

“My sincere condolences. It must have been so hard for Araminta to not be able to flaunt her wealth for a few weeks,” Sophie deadpanned, which only riled Rosamund up further. Not that it was a difficult thing to do. 

“Bastard,” Rosamund tsked snidely at her, shifting to Korean. 

Sophie took another deep breath, unsurprised. It was Rosamund’s go to insult besides calling her dead mother a promiscuous whore, so Sophie was used to it. There was a list of insults she could easily throw back at her in Korean, but Sophie chose not to. 

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked instead.

“Yeah, stay away from here,” Rosamund snapped. “ Your daddy isn’t here to protect you any more, so don’t think for a moment I won’t tell everyone the truth about you. About your mother. So it’s best if you remember your place.”

She was just not going to stop. It was almost fascinating how much Rosamund could be like Araminta. Knowing how it had always gone down with Araminta, Sophie knew if she kept fighting with Rosamund and talking back, this conversation was just going to drag out. 

As much as she wanted to put her former stepsister in her place, Sophie knew it just wasn’t worth it. 

So instead, she just decided to do what she had always done when Rosamund’s mother, Araminta, had gone after her. Whenever her stepmother was upset, suddenly going on a tirade, lecturing – or more so, yelling at her about what small little thing she’d done wrong now. It had happened so many times it wasn't difficult to do anymore.

So she just mentally checked out. 

“Got it,” she said flatly. It was easier, doing it this way. Being docile and emotionless. The conversation would hopefully end quicker if she just kept agreeing with Rosamund. Usually had whenever she had done it to Araminta, just let her stepmother go off on a rant until she ran out of steam. 

“So you remember your place next time,” Rosamund continued on. “Mr. Bridgerton is a very busy man who does not need to be wasting his time on little nobodies like you. You aren’t the owner here, he is.”

“Uh huh,” Sophie said, barely listening and trying to hold back a yawn.  

“You come to me if you need to speak with Benedict,” her former stepsister then said. “Understood?”

“Got it, Rosamund,” she repeated again, flatly, barely holding back sarcasm. “Won’t happen again.”

Then she walked past her without another word. Dismissing her stepsister and not letting her get the final word in. At least there was that. All she heard behind her was the sounds of Rosamund letting out an annoyed huff behind her, before she headed towards the office door, her tall heels clicking as she went. The door to Benedict’s office opened right as Sophie rounded the corner, back in the direction of her desk.

“Good morning, Ben,” she heard Rosamund chirp sweetly, attitude and tone now a full 180 to what she had just shown towards Sophie. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

Sophie didn’t hear Benedict’s response, she was too far down the hallway too. She just silently hoped he hadn’t heard them.

Chapter Text

“Good morning, Ben. Is there anything I can get for you?”

“You’re here early,” Benedict remarked flatly back, not answering the question and not looking up from the draft memo he was reviewing either. 

Rosamund paused in the doorway of his office, dark, perfectly sculpted brows popping up as she was momentarily taken aback by his remark. “I’m sorry?” she asked.

Benedict glanced down at his watch. “It’s only…eight ten. Usually I don’t see you for another hour. Or two.” 

Rosamund’s cheeks darkened, turning pink. “I-I um…well, I thought I should…um…try to be–”

“I was only joking, Rosamund,” Benedict said, giving her a gentle smile. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been more proactive with your work lately and I’m glad to see you finally taking your job seriously.”

Even though he had no idea how long it would last. But Benedict was in a good mood, and a good mood convinced him to be nicer to everyone. Besides, praise might just convince Rosamund to continue on her track. 

And with his eyes back on the papers in front of him, he didn’t notice how the blush on Rosamund’s cheeks turned from embarrassment to adoration. Her smile returned, only this time it was genuine, as she stepped further into the office. Flipping her long, pin straight hair over her shoulder as did.

“How did your mediation go yesterday?” she asked, tentatively, trying to start a conversation.

“As well as it could have gone,” Benedict replied, simply. “How is your mother doing?”

“She’s well. She wanted me to thank you for the flowers you sent after her surgery,” Rosamund told him, sweetly. 

“It was nothing, really,” Benedict told her and it was true. It was just the polite thing to do. What his mother had taught him. “Do tell her I said hello.”

Rosamund beamed brightly now. “I will. Is there anything you need me to get you?”

“No, I’m alright, right now. Thank you,” he told her. 

“Alright. Oh! I do have some checks you need to sign as well,” she then said. “If you have a moment.”

Benedict waved her over. “Alright, bring them over.” 

After coming towards his desk and handing him the checks to sign, Rosamund waited patiently by his desk, looking as if she wanted to say something more. As he quietly began signing the checks, not continuing their conversation further, Rosamund suddenly cleared her throat.

“I saw Ms. Baek was in your office when I arrived. Was everything alright?” she asked.

“Yep,” Benedict replied swiftly. “She wished to speak with me about something.”

Rosamund was silent for a moment. “She said you two were discussing a case?” she then asked carefully.  

Benedict only hummed back. Was that what Sophie had said she’d been doing in here? It was possible she didn’t want others knowing about the personal conversation they’d had. And Benedict had to agree with her there. 

“Yes, yes we were,” he told Rosamund, calmly, backing Sophie’s lie. 

And now that she’d brought it up, Benedict was reminded of what he’d heard before Rosamund had come into his office.

He couldn’t hear the words, they were too muffled by distance and the door, but it didn’t sound like a pleasant conversation. It had sounded…tense. From what he had gathered. Giving him a suspicion that Sophie and Rosamund might not be getting along. Odd, given how kind and welcoming Rosamund was towards Sophie on her first day. 

“Is everything alright?” he asked Rosamund gently as he finished signing the check. 

“I’m sorry?” Rosamund asked again.

“Is everything alright?” he repeated. “Between you and Ms. Baek. I thought I heard you two talking.” 

“What did you hear?” Rosamund asked nervously.

“Not much. Just sounded like you two might have been having a disagreement,” Benedict replied, handing the now signed blank checks back to her.

“Oh!” his assistant seemed surprised by his interest in knowing about what had occurred between her and Sophie. “Well…Sophie and I were just discussing…protocol.”

“Protocol?” Benedict asked.

“Policy,” she quickly clarified. “I was just reminding her that if she needed to speak with you the polite thing to do would be to speak with me first. So that I can check you’re not busy,” Rosamund explained. “When I told Sophie this, she got upset and said I was being ridiculous.” 

“I mean, in Ms. Baek’s defense, you weren’t here, and I doubt she was trying to be a bother,” Benedict told her. “She caught me at a good time. There was no harm done.” 

“Yes, I know, but I’m still your assistant. I don’t know why she can’t just respect that,” Rosamund replied. “She’s always been like this.”

That statement perked Benedict’s interest. Sophie and Rosamund were former stepsiblings and had lived together for a time when they were younger. If anyone would know more about Sophie  it would probably be Rosamund or her sister Posy.

“And what was she like when she was young?” Benedict asked, curiously, taking this moment to carefully trying to pry information about her from Rosmaund.

Rosamund only scoffed. “Difficult. She never did as she was told. Everything was a problem when it came to her. And she always needed to be the center of attention too. She enjoyed making mine and my mother’s lives miserable,” she explained, dismissively with a wave of the hand. 

Benedict now frowned. “That seems out of character for Ms. Baek.” 

“Well, there is a lot you don’t know about her,” Rosamund told him rather quickly, and Benedict raised a brow up at her, noticing how sharp her tone had gotten. Then, she added, more sweetly. “I’d be happy to tell you more about it. About how it was growing up with Sophie. Maybe over lunch sometime?”

But Benedict was too caught up on what she’d just said before to notice her request, about Sophie being the center of attention. 

It didn’t seem anything like the timid, polite woman he’d gotten to know these past few weeks. Sophie seemed utterly uninterested in having all or any attention brought to her, going about her work quietly and trying not to be an inconvenience towards anyone. He noticed she really left the sixth floor, usually having lunch with Agatha or by herself, sometime with Theo. She quietly did her work and then left for the day, as if trying to make herself invisible and unnoticed. 

“Did you say anything to her?” he then asked.

Rosamund blinked and stared at him, confused. “Like what?” 

“Well, I’m certain Ms. Baek didn’t mean to be rude,” Benedict told her. “Maybe she misunderstood your request. Why don’t I don’t speak to her about it?”

Rosamund’s dark chocolate eyes widened with alarm. “You don’t need to do that, Ben. I’m certain I can handle Sophie myself. It’s fine.”

But Benedict wasn’t listening. Besides, it was an excuse for him to talk to Sophie again.

“I’m sure it's all just some big misunderstanding,” he told her, rising from his seat. “I’ll go explain to Ms. Baek that you meant no insult and that moving forward she should make sure you are aware before she comes to meet with me. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Really, Ben, it’s fine–” Rosamund started, but Benedict was already rounding his desk, heading towards the exit.

“It’s not at all an issue. Be back in a few,” Benedict hurriedly told her and slipped out the door without another word.

—

There was a strange woman standing next to her desk when Sophie got back to it.

Well, girl. It was a strange, young girl. Probably mid to late teens if Sophie had to guess, who’d been standing right next to her desk, hands on her hips, looking to be impatiently waiting for her return. She looked familiar, with dark chocolate locks that flowed down to her mid-back in gentle waves and pale gray-blue eyes. She was dressed in a school uniform, one that was the same color as Charlie’s, but the crest on her sweater was different. Belonging instead to a well known sixth form school. 

“Um…can I help you?” Sophie asked, hesitantly as she walked past the girl and sat down in her chair behind her desk.

“Who are you?” the young girl asked rather curtly, frowning down at her. 

“Sophie,” she replied, still confused.

The girl’s eyes narrowed. “And just who are you supposed to be?”

“Mrs. Danbury’s assistant.”

“Where’s Coral?”

“She retired.”

“She retired!?” the girl practically yelled, making Sophie wince at the noise. 

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Um…last month.”

The young girl was at a loss for words, stunned. “I…why didn’t anyone tell me?” she asked, alarmed.

“Was someone supposed to?” Sophie asked, clarifying.

The look she got back told her someone was apparently supposed to get a hand delivered note to this young girl informing her of the news, given the judgemental, teenage, ‘like-duh’ look Sophie was currently getting from her. Sophie was so focused on it, she didn’t even notice Benedict walk around the corner in the distance, having come to follow up on the conversation she’d had earlier with Rosamund, before he stopped in his tracks, suddenly alarmed as he spotted who it was standing in front of Sophie’s desk. 

“So, you’re her replacement?” the girl asked.

Sophie nodded. 

“Sophie?” she clarified.

Again, Sophie nodded.

The girl only hummed, still frowning. Then she cocked her head to the side slightly, studying Sophie like she was some piece of ancient pottery on display in a museum. Like she didn’t understand what it was or why it was so important to be on exhibit. 

“Huh,” she then said. “I thought only old ladies were secretaries.”

Now, Sophie frowned. A little annoyed by the girl’s bluntness. “Well, I got a lot of work done,” she joked sarcastically.

The teenager only gave her a confused look, apparently not getting it, and glanced down at the nameplate sitting on the desk between them. 

“Sophia…Baek?…Oh! You're that new assistant Benedict like–” she started, but she was cut off by the sudden appearance of said Bridgerton. Who even took Sophie by surprise when he practically appeared out of thin air. As if summoned by the mere mention of his name.

“Excuse me,” he quickly said, breezing by and lifting the young girl up as he did, throwing her over his shoulder as if she weighed less than a bag of potatoes as he quickly sped on down the hallway without stopping. 

Over his shoulder, the young girl, momentarily stunned, began screaming.

“Benedict! What the fuck?” she screeched in furious alarm as she was carried away.

“M-Mr. Bridgerton?” Sophie stuttered out, quickly jumping to her feet but he was already halfway down the hallway by the time she even started to move out of her chair. Forgetting to use his first name.

But he didn’t say anything, just continued charging down the hallway, all while Sophie watched, leaning forward over her desk to follow them until the two disappeared around the corner. The young girl hollering the entire time, her screams echoing through the space. 

What…what just happened? 

—

“Put me down!” Hyacinth screamed. 

“No,” Benedict shot back as he sped through the hall and towards his office. 

“You are such an asshole!” his baby sister screeched. 

“Yep,” Benedict replied flatly. 

He sped past Rosamund, who, sitting at her desk looking rather pale and panicked, glanced up just in time to see him breeze past her and into his office at a speed close to that of the Road Runner, before depositing his sister on the couch inside. More like threw his sister. He threw her. Hyacinth let out a shrill, surprised scream as she briefly flew in the air before impacting with the soft, cream white couch in the middle of his large office space, the one he used for more informal meetings. Her body bounced briefly over the stiff cushions as she quickly grabbed onto the furniture to prevent herself from falling off and onto the floor. 

“What the fuck, Benedict?!” she then yelled. 

“What are you doing here?” Benedict snapped back. 

She was supposed to be at school. First period had started a few minutes ago and instead of being in the classroom, focusing on her studies, in her school that was on the other side of the Thames, she was here. At his place of work. 

Bothering Sophie!

“You are supposed to be in school?” he added, putting on his stern older brother voice. 

“You can’t just throw me about like that!” his sister then shouted at him, furiously. 

“Answer the question,” he ordered.

Hyacinth let out an annoyed huff, crossing her arms as she slumped back into the hard, sculpted sofa. “I was bored. I already know everything they’re teaching. You don’t need to worry about my grades.”

“Being bored is not a good enough of a reason to skip school.,” Benedict sternly admonished her. “You should be grateful Anthony isn’t here right now. He’d lose it if he realized you were still skipping.”

“Hence why I came here while he’s out of town,” Hyacinth told him, rolling her eyes. “You are a pushover.”

Benedict's eyes widened in shock. “Pushover?!” 

“Yes.”

“Hyacinth Amelia Bridgerton–” he started slowly, frustrated.

“Benedict Charles Bridgerton–” Hyacinth shot back sarcastically, voice rising higher than his as she mockingly spoke back to him.

Benedict then let out an infuriated groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d been in such a good mood after seeing Sophie and now this! Now, he had to deal with his stubborn baby sister and her current, tedious, rebellious tendencies. This was Anthony’s department – disciplining his siblings – not his. 

(Even if Anthony had put that on him too now that he was married with his own children to worry about).

“I will call Mother,” he threatened. 

“You don’t have the balls,” his sister shot back in a hiss.

“Really? After you called me a ‘mama’s boy’ the other night? You think I have issues with contacting our mother to let her know you disobeyed her again?” Benedict retorted. 

“I’ll tell her it was you who killed her prized orchid,” Hyacinth quickly threatened.

“And I’ll just tell her you were the one who lost her diamond earrings,” Benedict shot back, equally as childish sounding as she was.  

A silent standoff began between the two; the Mama’s Boy and the Baby Princess. Benedict mustered the sternest look he could give his sister, as Hyacinth glared up at him, trying to figure out her next steps in their argument. Neither one backed down, and neither one looked like they were going to blink as their staring contest continued, but Benedict had one thing his baby sister didn’t have.

Patience and experience. 

Finally, Hyacinth blinked, then cursed as she realized she’d just lost while Benedict smugly stared down at her, victorious. 

“Now, tell me why you are skipping class again or I’m calling mother,” Benedict threatened, pulling his phone out for show. 

“Because it’s boring,” Hyacinth told him.

“That’s not enough of a reason,” Benedict replied simply again, then unlocked his phone and went to his contacts. He held the phone up so Hyacinth could see his finger hovering over the call button of their mother’s contact page. After a few seconds, and no more words of explanation from her, Benedict pressed his finger down.

“Alright! Alright, it’s Gareth!” Hyacinth practically yelled. “I don’t want to go to school because of Gareth.”

Benedict quickly shut off his phone, cancelling the call to his mother, and slid the phone into his pocket, surprised now by his sister’s reasoning. 

“What about Gareth?”

“We’re not…we’re not talking right now,” Hyacinth admitted, suddenly looking away from him and Benedict’s frown deepened. 

Hyacinth and Gareth had become two peas in a pod in recent years, ever since they first met at Daphne and Simon’s wedding. At first, his family had all been rather worried. Worried that Hyacinth might corrupt the young, quiet Mr. St. Clair, who always said his please and thank yous and used formal titles when speaking to the adults around him, but his grandmother, Agatha, had only encouraged the friendship when she found out. Since then, wherever Hyacinth was, Gareth was usually only a few paces behind, trailing behind her like an obedient, little puppy. 

Which made it all the more worrisome if they were not speaking. 

“And, worse, Felicity and I don’t have any classes together this year so I have no one to talk to,” Hyacinth continued, starting to blurt out everything going on in her life like a burst damn. “I’ve tried talking to him, but he refuses to even sit down with me. Every time I text him he ignores me,” she then let out a frustrated groan. “And I’m pretty sure this is all because he asked me if we wanted to get dinner before school started but I didn’t show up. But it wasn’t even my fault because the only reason I didn’t go was because Mum grounded me.”

Benedict raised a brow. He then moved towards the couch opposite to the one she was sitting on and sat down.

“And this why you’ve been skipping classes?” he asked gently.

She looked away, jaw clenched. “He’s been weird ever since we got back to school. He won’t talk to me and he keeps avoiding me. I tried – I really have! But he said he didn’t want to talk. He was upset I didn’t text him about having to cancel our dinner, but I told him it was because Mum took my phone. And then I asked him to come over so we could chat and he was like,” putting on a deeper voice, Hyacinth continued. “It’s not gentlemanly of me to sleep over at your house, Hy. You’re a woman now,” before dropping it back to her normal one and saying. “Like what does that even mean? I’ve been a woman since I got my period in year seven. And when I pointed that out, he said I finally look like a woman. Like, so what? My tits finally grew in and I lost twelve pounds. It’s not that big of a deal.” 

Hyacinth had suddenly sprouted over the past year, blossoming over the summer like she’d gone through a second puberty and owned it. Gone was his little, baby sister with her pudgy cheeks and shrill voice who seemed to have only come up to his knees for the majority of her life, and replaced was a bullheaded yet independent young woman who had inherited the Bridgerton good looks along with their mother’s darker chocolate curls and soft features. Rail thin like Francesca, Benedict knew Hyacinth was starting to get more attention from the opposite sex. Something that set off his protective, older brother instincts the way it had with his other sisters, even though Hyacinth was second only to Eloise in being able to grab a man by the ball and guarantee she got her way with them.

“It might be to him,” Benedict remarked gently. He’d always had a suspicion the reason Gareth followed his sister and his sister alone around was because he might have liked her as more than just a friend. 

Protective older brother instincts aside, Gareth was a good kid who seemed to care greatly about his sister. Agatha wouldn’t have let her anywhere near him if she’d thought otherwise.

And it did also sound as if this dinner date might not have been the friendly get-together Hyacinth thought it was. 

“He doesn’t need to be weird about it,” Hyacinth replied with an annoyed scoff. “I wasn’t weird about him coming back from summer break last year a foot taller than me and totally jacked. Like with a full six pack. And I’ve seen him play basketball with his friends too. Seen how big his dick is behind his–”

“Okay, I do not need to know this information about Gareth St. Clair! Thank you!” Benedict interrupted, loudly, cutting her off. This was Agatha’s grandson they were talking about for crying out loud. He’d known the kid since he was nine years old, with a squeaky voice and braces. 

Hyacinth only rolled her eyes and slumped even further into the sofa. “Whatever. I just want us to go back to being friends.”

“I’m sorry, Hy,” Benedict told her, sympathetically. “Maybe he just needs a little time. Give him some space and then you can try talking to him again. I’m sure it will all work out.”

“Yeah, sure,” was his sister’s response. After a second she let out a long breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter right now. He knows I’ll kick his ass if he doesn’t start talking to me again soon. I’ll give him till break to start talking to me again. Until then, I will just have to endure, as I have always been made to.”

“Yes, because your life has been very difficult, hasn’t it?” Benedict said flatly. He wasn’t sure anyone else had been more spoiled in his family then Hyacinth was. Maybe him, but that had only been with his mother so it didn’t count. 

And Hyacinth only stuck her tongue out happily at him at the remark, which only made Benedict laugh. Though, he still felt bad for her. 

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” Benedict asked. “If not, I’m sure I’ll have time in my schedule to take you shopping.”

As much as she enjoyed mooching off her siblings when she could, Hyacinth shook her head. “Felicity’s birthday is this weekend and we are celebrating.”

“Does this celebration involve underage drinking?” Benedict asked, brow raised as he gave her a disapproving look, knowing well with Hyacinth that, much like it had been with his other siblings, there was a possibility she would try drinking. 

“No,” his sister said, a little too quickly. 

“Hy…” he started, warningly.

Hyacinth only glanced away. Not making his eye. 

“Hyacinth…” he repeated with more force. 

“We’re not going to drink!” Hyacinth told him, defensively. “I swear it. We’re just gonna hang out and get a curry. Watch a few movies. Maybe have one drink.” 

“If you are going to drink, do it in the house with Mum,” Benedict reminded her. “She won’t mind if you do, she’ll just want you two to be safe about it.” 

“Okay, okay. We will,” Hyacinth said. 

Benedict nodded, as a silence suddenly fell between the two. He trusted his sister to be smart enough to know right from wrong, and as the silence continued, he tried to figure out a way to convince her to go back to school. John was downstairs with security, he could probably get him to get her there. And make sure she stays there. 

“So…” Hyacinth then said, catching his attention. She drew out the word slowly as she gave him a mischievous look. “Ms. Baek is like…super hot.”

“Jesus Christ, Hy,” Benedict replied, letting his head fall as he brought his hand up to pinch his nose. To think, they had just been having a lovely, sibling heart to heart. 

“What she is,” Hyacinth said, unfazed. “She's super sweet looking too. And she’s got like an amazing rack.”

“Hyacinth!” Benedict snapped, appalled. 

His sister merely rolled her pale eyes, again, and carried on. “If you want me to, I can go back there and put on the Bridgerton charm. Pull the innocent little sister act,” she offered. “Convince her you're not a total inept loser.” 

“You are not going to go anywhere near Ms. Baek, do you understand?” Benedict said, firmly. 

“But, she’s Agatha’s new assistant. How else am I going to be able to have my weekly lunches with Agatha if I don’t get to know her new assistant?” Hyacinth asked with a whine, alarmed now. 

“By planning your lunches with Mrs. Danbury for the weekends, so that you can go. To. School. On. Time,” Benedict retorted. “Mum has her number, she can set them up for you.”

“I do not need mother involved in my conversations with Agatha. She wouldn’t understand.”  

“I’m saying it once, Hy. Leave Ms. Baek alone. I mean it.”

The last thing he needed was his family scaring her off for good. He loved them. He did. But they were just too much sometimes. And there were too many of them. 

“Alright, alright. I will. I promise,” Hyacinth replied defensively. 

Benedict nodded, content with her reply. However, a tiny part of his gut twisted, telling him something was off. And the more he studied his baby sister, the look on her face as she tried not to make his eye, the more he sensed she wasn’t being entirely truthful with him still. 

“Why do I still feel like you’re going to bother her?” Benedict asked and Hyacinth only stuck her tongue out at him in response. 

Chapter Text

“And then I said, ‘Darling. Screw him? I barely know the man.’”

Sophie choked. Having been mid-sip when her friend, Lucy Weatherby, delivered the punchline of her story, Sophie almost inhaled her drink up her nose in surprise. As she sputtered, she quickly grabbed a napkin off the table and brought it to her face, trying to clean up the sticky, fruity, alcoholic liquid now dripping down her chin as she worked to get her breath back, while her friend only descended into a fit of cackling laughter as she sat across from her.

“You do that on purpose,” she told her, dabbing her face as Lucy only continued to laugh. “You wait till I’m drinking.” 

“I won’t take responsibility for your pure minded, moral sensibilities,” Lucy replied as she cackled. 

Sophie only shook her head, smiling. “Forgive me for not being as outgoing as you,” she said. “I just prefer living vicariously through you.”

Her friend wasn’t just outgoing, she was practically a tornado. Blowing through London every few months due to her work taking her all over the world. Add to it her charismatic personality and glowing good looks, Lucy always had some extravagant or insane story to tell whenever they got together. And since she was back in the city for the first time in months, she’d called Sophie up to meet and catch up before she had to take off again. 

“Just because you had my gorgeous little godson, doesn’t mean you no longer are allowed to go out and have fun,” Lucy told her. 

“I think I’d end up arrested if I went out and tried living like you do,” Sophie told her.

“And yet, I’ll be right there ready to bail you out,” Lucy added. “It’d be a funny story to tell Charles when he’s older.”

“I think I have enough stories to tell him from our university days,” Sophie replied.

“Oh, I’ll drink to that,” Lucy said, clinking her glass with Sophie’s before taking a sip. “Anyway, enough about my work. What about yours? I know you said you’d gotten a new job.”  

Ah, yes. Her new job. 

Lucy had been out of town and hard to reach, meaning Sophie hadn’t been able to keep her updated about everything that had happened. Everything she’d discovered. 

“You remember Benedict?” she asked carefully.

“Ah, yes, the infamous Deadbeat Daddy,” her friend remarked.

“He has a name,” Sophie told her, flatly, having never been comfortable with the nickname her friend had assigned Benedict after they broke up. Even with how upset and heartbroken she’d been. 

“He also abandoned you after you told him you were pregnant with his kid,” Lucy retorted swiftly, before elegantly taking a sip of her drink. “He gets his name back when he earns it.”

“Yeah…so about that. Turns out it might not have been intentional,” Sophie started and one of Lucy’s sharp brows perked up.

“I’m sensing a drama update,” Lucy commented, sitting up straighter in her seat and leaning forward, flashing Sophie a sharp smile. “And you know I love a dramatic update.”

So, Sophie told her what had happened. 

All of it.

“So, he doesn’t remember you? At all?” Lucy questioned after she’d finished explaining, a stunned look on her angular face. She'd been watching Sophie as she explained, dark eyes growing wider with each piece of new information she received.

Sophie shook her head. “Apparently, he lost four years of memories.”

"Including your relationship?"

"Pretty much."

“And now you work together?”

She nodded.

“And you haven’t told him about Charles?”

Sophie nodded again.

“Sophie,” Lucy chided. “Why ever not?”

“How? How am I supposed to explain to him that we were together and, during that time, I conceived a child? Our entire relationship was wiped from his mind by that accident,” Sophie told her. “He’d probably think I was crazy.”

“Well, you have to have proof. Don’t you have any photos of you two together?” Lucy asked.

Sophie hesitated to answer. She’d gotten rid of most of them. Deleted half of her camera roll one night when she was particularly depressed and brimming with pregnancy hormones. But some of them she’d kept. Any of her printed photo copies she still had, tucked away in a little shoebox under her bed for Charles to one day see. When she was to sit him down and tell him more about his father, explain to him the real reason he wasn’t in his life.

Charles never asked about his father. He had, once, after he turned four. He’d asked her why other children had a daddy and he didn’t.

“Steven has two daddies but Mary Jean only has her daddy cause her mommy died,” Charles had told her while they sat on the couch one evening. “And everyone else has daddies, but me.”

“Um…well–” Sophie had struggled to answer. 

Benedict had still been an open wound in her heart, making it difficult for her to even say his name, but now his son had finally grown more aware and curious of the world, looking for answers Sophie couldn’t easily give.

“Well, your daddy is…” she paused again. Then she took a deep breath. “Your daddy didn’t want to be a daddy.” 

“Why not?” Charles had asked, eyes growing bigger with confusion. 

“I’m not really sure,” Sophie had said. “But you do have one. He’s just not here. I’m not entirely sure where he is now.” 

“Did he not want me?” 

Sophie watched as Charles’ eyes went even bigger, filling with sadness and worry, and it tugged at her heart strings. She’d move forward quickly, scooping him up into her arms and bringing him to her chest, so he was sitting on her lap.

“No, no, baby, it wasn’t that,” she said, kissing his forehead. “He just…well, mama isn’t really sure why he didn’t want to be your daddy.” 

Charles hadn’t cried, but he gotten a little look on his face as he sat on her lap, staring off into the distance. It was apparent to her he was thinking very hard in that moment. 

“Well, it will be me and eomma then,” Charles had stubbornly decided. “I don’t need daddy cause I have mama and mama is better than any daddy.”

And that had been it. Charles never brought up his father again. Never asked her to know more. And when people asked he said the same thing each time, he didn’t know where his daddy was. He only had his mama and that was perfectly fine with him. 

“I have some photos,” she admitted to Lucy. “For when Charles’ older.” 

“Then you can show them to him,” Lucy told her. 

“What if he doesn’t believe me?”

“Then he goes from Deadbeat Daddy to Deadbeat Dimwit Daddy. Or Triple D.”

Sophie sighed. “Lucy–”

“With the amount you know of him, with how long you were together, it’s going to be hard for him to deny it,” Lucy said, cutting her off. “You were together for a year. Even if he doesn’t remember it, you have undeniable proof.”

“I guess but–”

“But what?”

“What if he still doesn’t want me?” Sophie asked. 

The flat look on Lucy’s face said she didn’t believe Sophie was being serious. 

“Then he’s Triple D. Simple as that,” she told her. “But, for once, I don’t believe that he will be that stupid.”

But Sophie found herself struggling to agree. 

—

“We’ll talk soon,” Lucy told her as they were standing outside of the restaurant. She’d just hailed a cab, which was pulling up in front of them.

“Absolutely,” Sophie replied, smiling.

“And tell me how it goes with Triple D,” Lucy told her as she moved in to hug her.

“I will,” Sophie said as she hugged her friend back, before letting her go so she didn’t keep the cab driver waiting. 

“Love you loads, darling,” Lucy sang as she opened the car door and jumped in, giving her one final wave. “Ta!”

“Bye,” Sophie said with a wave, watching the cab head off down the road and around the corner, before turning herself and heading in the direction of the nearby Tube station. 

As she headed past an alley next to a well known club, Sophie heard a voice echo weakly out from it. 

“Go away,” a feminine voice slurred with a moan. 

Sophie stopped dead in her racks, her heart filling with dread as she immediately realized what was happening. Her head snapped in the direction of where the voice had come from and she quickly made her way over. 

As she stepped into the entrance of the dirty alley, Sophie spotted a group of people hanging out further in. She could make out only three figures, men, all seemingly crowded around something or someone hidden behind the large, rusting dumpster. As she made her way deeper, getting closer to the group, Sophie spotted a young girl trapped between the men and the exterior wall of the club.

And Sophie recognized her. It was the girl who’d questioned her about her job the other day. The one who didn’t know she was Agatha’s new assistant. Benedict’s little sister, she’d found out later. What was her name again? It was some kind of flower. Rose? No. Violet? No, that was someone else. Daisy? No, that wasn’t it. They were alphabetically named weren’t they? Eighth letter in the alphabet was ‘h’ so that meant a flower that started with–

Hyacinth! It was Hyacinth. 

And a very drunk Hyacinth. Even at the distance she was at, Sophie could tell the teenager was under the influence. Leaning, slumped against the wall of the alley as three very big and much older men surrounded her, keeping her cornered in. She looked about ready to collapse.

“Come on, it will be fun,” one of them said, pulling at the strap of Hyacinth’s very short dress. “We know how to show you a good time.”

Hyacinth moaned, trying to move away from them, but with no where to go, she ended up only slumping further against the brick wall. 

Sophie frowned, her body already moving towards them. Hyacinth was Benedict’s youngest sister and the baby in her family. Back when they’d been dating, Benedict had told her once of his family having just celebrated her eleventh birthday. Add six years to that number and Hyacinth was but definitely not of the legal drinking age yet. 

But the men around her certainly looked to be. 

“Just come with us,” one of them said. “You’ll enjoy it.”

“Stop being such a tease,” the one closest to the young Bridgerton added with a laugh. He reached out and pushed Hyacinth’s long, dark curls back over her shoulder, exposing her shoulder. 

“Get your hands off of her,” Sophie quickly ordered. The words bursting from her mouth before her brain even had a chance to warn her of the dangers.

She stepped further into the alley, further closing the space between her and the three men. The three men all turned, looking her over. She got uninterested and smug expressions back, as if it was funny she’d interjected herself into the situation.

“Hyacinth, come here,” she told the young girl sternly, not angrily but her tone was serious, to force the girl into moving.

And she did. She tried.

But the slimiest prick, the one closest to her, put his hand in front of her and on the wall, blocking her in. Hyacinth only slumped back against the wall, struggling to stay awake. 

“Look gents,” he announced. He was taller than the others, with slick back dark hair and vulpine-like features. “Looks like the little miss brought a friend.”

“Doesn’t look like the one she left inside,” one of the other men remarked, chuckling.

“At least she’s nice on the eyes,” the last one said. 

“Like a little China doll,” the first one, the slimy prick, commented with a laugh, as if Sophie was standing right in front of them. 

And Sophie clenched her jaw in response, holding back a biting retort about how she was Korean not Chinese, but bit down on her tongue instead. A disappointed sigh wasn't even worth the energy. There was no point in even trying. Men like these assholes weren’t worth it, but they were dangerous. Especially in situations like this.

She just needed to get herself and Hyacinth out of here. And fast.

“Get away from her,” she told them.

The boys only laughed at her, as if she’d just told the funniest joke, while simultaneously dismissing her without another thought. Returning their attention back to Hyacinth. Sophie, again, took another deep, long breath, trying to keep herself calm. To prevent both her anger and nerves from getting the best of her. 

The slimy prick pushed himself back off the wall, straightening up, as he turned towards her. It opened a gap big enough for Hyacinth to get through and away.

Which she quickly did.

Pushing off the dumpster, her heels making her stumble like a newborn foal, Hyacinth drunkenly fell towards her. And Sophie lunged for her in response, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards her, before shoving her behind her so that she was in front of her. The one asshole who got too close, who tried to grab Hyacinth and pull her back, Sophie quickly shoved with all her strength, pushing him back.

“Back off,” Sophie ordered, trying to hold her ground, but the slimy prick barely moved. Just advanced forward again, until he was standing less than a foot in front and towering over her.

“Or what?” he asked, smiling down at her cockily. “What are you going to do about it?”

"I'm certain we can fun with both of you," one of his friends called out, laughing.

There were only a handful of times Sophie remembered spending time alone with her father. One was when he took her out into the garden one morning, before her steprelatives woke, and made her stand in the middle of the yard. Only fourteen and confused, still a little groggy from being woken up so early in the morning, Sophie had stood there awkwardly while her father told her to move her leg forward and the other a little back. Keep her back straight and her arms in front of her like this. Knees a little bent. 

And then he taught her how to throw a punch.

A punch Sophie had only thrown a few times in her life. Araminta had screamed for hours two weeks after the lesson, after Sophie punched Rosamund during a fight, leaving her stepsister's perfect, doll-like face with a black eye and bruised cheek. It was the only time she ever noticed what looked like pride from her father, who had told Araminta it was Rosamund’s fault for storming into Sophie’s room and accusing her of stealing with no proof. 

Sophie had only hit Rosamund because her stepsister had grabbed her by the hair and dragged her off her bed, trying to pin her to the floor and force her to admit her nonexistent guilt, for which Sophie had thrown the punch in an attempt to defend herself. It was probably the only time her father had come to her defense. He’d never gotten involved before, and never when it was a fight between Posy or Rosamund (or really Araminta and Rosamund ganging up on Posy) but he had always sided with Sophie whenever her steprelatives had accused her of something or tried to start fights with her. 

Her father had always been a strange man. Distant but always hovering, never intervening or involving himself but still always right there, like a ghost. A shadowy specter that haunted her for most of her life. As she’d gotten older, she’d suspected maybe a part of him did care for her, that maybe he just didn’t know how to show affection, but she’d never been able to confirm it. That she knew. 

“Well?” the slimy prick asked again, leeringly. A smug smile on his sharp face as he stared down his nose at her. “Whatcha gonna do?”

But she had been able to confirm from him that she knew how to throw a damn good right hook.

Which is exactly what she did to the slimy prick standing in front of her. 

—

“Hyacinth!” 

Sophie turned and spotted Benedict running down the street towards them. 

In front of her was Hyacinth, still sitting on the dirty pavement, Sophie’s jacket around her shoulders and a half drunk bottle of water in her hands. Dark lines of mascara were down her cheeks. Sophie had done her best to clean up her face with the make up wipes she had in her purse, but Hyacinth had kept bursting into tears every time she finished cleaning away the last streak, making her have to start over. Her redheaded friend, Felicity, had tried to help, after she’d stumbled out of the bar in a panic looking for her, but she was currently speaking with the police officer. Looking just as small and terrified as her friend. 

And when she heard her brother’s voice Hyacinth sat up straight and quickly looked up towards him. She immediately scrambled to her feet just as Benedict slowed down in front of them and threw herself at him. Her arms wrapped tightly around her brother’s neck. 

“What happened?” Benedict gasped, out of breath. 

“I’m sorry!” Hyacinth cried out, beginning to sob.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” Benedict told her quickly, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his arms, gently kissing the top of her head as he started to comfort her. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” 

Then he looked up at Sophie, face distraught. She could see the panic in his eyes, how his hair was sticking about wildly. His nervous tic. And he looked a mess, looking to have dressed in a rush. His shirt was half unbuttoned and rumpled, and his shoes didn’t match. Both work loafers but different colors, one navy and the other light brown, like he was grabbing what he could as he raced out the door. Which made sense. He’d been fast asleep when she called him. 

“She’s what?!” he’d practically yelled after Sophie told him what had happened and where they were. 

“She’s alright,” Sophie assured him. “The cops already spoke with her and I’ve been pumping her with water ever since they got here. The paramedics already checked over as well to make sure she’s okay.”

As she began to explain what had happened since she called him, Felicity, seeing Benedict, quickly rushed over.

“I’m so so sorry Mr. Bridgerton,” she immediately began babbling, voice croaking as she too began to get upset herself. “We were just going to stay for a little bit, I swear. We didn’t even get any drinks here. But Hy drank way too much while we were pre-gaming. I swear we were leaving when I realized. I only turned my back for a second to get our coats but she was gone. I was looking for her everywhere. I promise I–”

“Alright, alright,” Benedict quickly interjected, trying to calm the panicked teen. “I know, Felicity. I know.” 

“I’m sorry,” Hyacinth moaned again, her voice muffled as she pressed her face into her brother’s shirt, before weakly mumbling. “I wanna go home.”

“I know. I’m going to get you home, don’t worry,” Benedict gently told her, rubbing her back as he kept her protectively held against him. He glanced up at Sophie, eyes brimming with gratitude.  “Thank you,” he told her.

Sophie shook her head. “It was nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m assuming you are Miss Bridgerton’s brother?” the officer who’d been interviewing Felicity asked as he came over to them. “Constable Harris. If you have a moment, I’d like to speak with you as well.”

Benedict nodded. “Benedict Bridgerton. Esquire,” he told him quickly, his voice shifting to cold and professional as he pushed down the panicked fear he was feeling to speak with the officer. “I’m a solicitor with Bridgebury Counsel. Do you mind telling me what exactly happened?”

“Well, I’m certain you gathered already that your sister was part taking in underage drinking. Miss Featherington admitted to us they had used fake identification to get into the Regent’s Club, but that Miss Bridgerton was already intoxicated when they arrived,” Constable Harris explained. “When they were making an attempt to leave, Miss Featherington said she lost sight of your sister, who was discovered by Ms. Baek in the alley over there.”

He nodded to the alley behind them, where two other officers were currently speaking with the slimy pricks' friends. Slimy prick himself was not with them, currently seated, handcuffed, in the back of a police car, dry blood caking his upper lip and chin from Sophie had busted his nose. Sophie had only been spared being handcuffed herself, because the asshole had shoved her afterwards, making her stumble back and fall onto the sidewalk. 

Two good Samaritans, a couple, had been walking by and saw her fall out of the alley. The gentleman quickly got between her and the slimy prick, keeping him and his friends back, while his girlfriend called 999. Sophie took it as the opportunity she needed to grab Hyacinth and pull her away to safety while they waited for the police to arrive, the slimy prick screaming the whole time about her breaking his nose and threatening to sue her as he lay crumpled on the ground. 

“Your sister was approached by three gentlemen who reported striking up a conversation with her. They were concerned about your sister’s current state and were attempting to assist her,” the officer then said.

Sophie scoffed. That was not even close to what she had observed.

“However, Ms. Baek reports the men were manhandling and harassing her. She then approached them, after which a confrontation occurred between the group and Ms. Baek assaulted one–” the officer started.

“Whatever Ms. Baek did, I assume you know she most likely did in defense of my sister,” Benedict quickly interjected, frowning. “If these men laid a finger on either one of them, I want charges brought against them.” 

“They were following us around the club,” Felicity added. “I saw them. They kept trying to get between me and Hy. Kept trying to separate us.” 

The new information from Felicity seemed to ignite the rage slowly building in Benedict, his stormy eyes widening as a fire seemed to explode in them. His head snapped over towards where the two remaining assholes where, beginning to move towards them. Sophie knew that look and quickly stepped forward, grabbing Benedict’s wrist before he decided to commit assault himself.

“I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding that–” the officer started. 

“And I’m certain this matter can be discussed more thoroughly. Tomorrow. Constable. I assume by then you will have charges filed against these men by then,” Benedict shot furiously. “We’re done here.”

Constable Harris, seeing the conversation was going nowhere, only nodded, providing Benedict with his card before letting them go. Benedict had a sour and furious look on his face the entire time, waiting for the officers to leave before turning back to Sophie and relaxing.

“Are you alright?” he asked, softer. 

Sophie nodded. “I’m fine.”

And Benedict nodded back his understanding, seeming to need to do so just to make himself believe it. 

“I need to get these two home to their mothers,” he then told her, still clutching his sister tightly against his side, not that Hyacinth looked like she wanted to go anywhere else. She was clinging to him the way a baby koala did its mother, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. “I don’t want to keep mine waiting any longer, or she’ll come out here herself. And that is the last thing any of us need.”

“I should probably go too,” Sophie told him softly. “Don’t want to miss the last train.”

“We can split a cab back to my mother’s,” Benedict said. “It’s only a short drive from here. Over in Mayfair. And my mother has more rooms than she can count. I’m certain she’ll let you stay the night, given how late it is. As thanks.”

She shook her head. “I have someone at home I need to get back to,” she said, politely. “And Mayfair is a little out of the way for me.” 

“Let me get you an Uber then,” Benedict offered, moving to get his phone out of his pocket. “I don’t mind.”

She shook her head. “It’s only a few stops. If I go now I’ll probably catch it. The station isn’t far from here.”

“You could at least let me walk you there,” Benedict told her, letting out a pitiful laugh. Seeming almost disappointed that she wouldn’t take his help. “Let me do the gentlemanly thing and make sure you get home safe.”

Sophie blinked. “Um…alright, sure.”

So, with both Hyacinth and Felicity clinging to him, Benedict followed Sophie down the street and towards the nearby Tube stop. They didn’t speak, just walked along next to each other, with two terrified teenagers walking along between them. 

And the station was practically empty when they arrived. As Sophie moved towards the stalls, she reached into her back pocket, moving to grab her phone which held her oyster card within the little wallet stuck to the back of her phone, when Benedict’s hand reached past her. He pressed a sleek, black credit card against the scanner, waiting till the light turned green and the doors opened before pulling away. 

Sophie blinked. Had he just paid for her fare?

“Oh!…um…thank you,” Sophie quickly said, still taken by surprise, as she quickly moved through the stall before the doors closed. 

“It’s the least I can do,” Benedict replied as she moved through the stall. “Get home safe.”

She nodded. “Same to you.”

Heading towards the escalator, Sophie only spared one final look back, seeing Benedict still waiting on the other side of the stalls, apparently waiting for her make it down further into the Tube before he left. She gave a weak, pathetic wave, which Benedict returned, as she stepped onto the escalator and began making her way down to the platform.

At this point, Sophie wasn’t entirely sure what to do with him. 

Chapter Text

After everything that happened Friday night, Charles’ playdate Sunday morning turned out to be a welcomed distraction. 

Sophie and Charles met up with Kate and Neddy, as well as little baby Miles, Neddy's little brother, outside of the Natural History Museum. While still a cold, fall day, the sun had decided to make an appearance, making the day not as cold as it might have been. But still chilly enough that Sophie had made sure Charles was bundled up in his red, woolen coat and sage green knitted hat and mittens Marilla had made him along with a similar colored scarf. 

Sleep had been a little tricky in the aftermath of Friday. Sophie had been rather worried about Benedict and Hyacinth after everything that had happened. She’d tentatively texted him Saturday afternoon, checking in, but had gotten a very brief message back that everything was alright and thanks again for helping Hyacinth.

And a result of the sleeplessness was Sophie oversleeping Sunday morning, causing them to be fifteen minutes late to their planned playdate.

“Neddy!” Charles squealed happily, racing forward and quickly hugging his friend, who returned the hug with equal joy and excitement. 

“Morning,” Sophie huffed out as she jogged up after her son. “I’m so sorry we’re late. I slept through my alarm and–”

But Kate only shook her head. “It’s fine. Don’t worry. I’ve done it a few times myself.” 

A small tug on her coat and Sophie glanced down to see Charles looking up at her. His cheeks were round and red from the cold air.

“Mama, can we go to the dinosaurs first?” he asked, politely.

“Why don’t you ask Neddy if he would like to go there first,” Sophie gently advised, wanting to make sure her son was being fair. She knew how excited when dinosaurs were on the line and didn't want him to inadvertently leave Neddy out. 

“Dinosaurs. Dinosaurs. Dinosaurs!” Neddy yelled his agreement before Charles could ask, smiling brightly. 

Well, it looked like they were doing the dinosaurs first then.

“Let’s head on in, shall we?” Kate said with a fond smile as she started to push the stroller around, back in the direction of the museum's large, cathedral front doors. 

Once inside, they quickly moved past the large whale skeleton hanging in the middle of the expansive front area, past the blackened bone cast of Dippy (which, funny enough, Charles could care less about), they turned down the hall leading towards the dinosaur exhibit. 

And once there, Charles, now face to face with his most favorite thing in the world, began excitedly explaining to Neddy all that he knew dinosaurs. He ran around the exhibit, pointing out each set of skeletons to his friend and telling them their names and any facts he knew about them, all while Needy strived to keep up with him, eyes wide in intrigue and awe as he listened to Charles. He asked him a million questions, the two boys now in their own little world as they conversed back and forth. Kate and Sophie didn't need to do much but follow slowly behind and make sure they didn't get to far ahead or misbehave.

“Good thing we have a little expert with us,” Kate said jokingly to her as they both walked behind the pair, pushing the pram as they went through the exhibit. “He’s quite the little paleontologist.” 

“You have no idea,” Sophie told her with a smile. “For Christmas last year, he asked me if we could go to deserts of America to look for fossils. I took him to Dorset instead. He had a field day when I told him some of the rocks can have fossils in them. Spent the whole weekend there looking for some.”

“Did he find any?” Kate asked.

Sophie shook her head. “We went during the late summer and I only found out after it was better to come right after Christmas, after the winter storms had blown through. But, he did find a geode. Which he was very excited about. He has it on his shelf at home.”

He’d split the rock with Sophie after they’d hammered it open together, finding what looked to be fog colored quartz inside. Once opened, Charles had handed one to her, telling her to take the bigger piece while he would keep the smaller half. Sophie tried to assure him he could keep both pieces, that the geode was his, but he refused.

“The pieces go back together. See,” he told her as he held the two halves in his hands and gently pressed them together. “The big piece is the Mama and the little piece is the Baby. Just like mama and me. That’s why you need to take this piece mama, cause we always go together.”

It had taken everything in Sophie’s willpower to not cry then and there over how sweet he was being. Still, her eyes had gone misty and she’d had to tell him the reason Mama was sniffling suddenly was because of the dust. And she’d taken the larger piece, keeping it, always, on her bedside next to her clock, so she could look at it every morning when she woke up. 

“I got him a fossil for his birthday though,” Sophie added, whispering so the boys didn’t hear her. 

Just a small little ammonite. Placed on a stand inside a glass box to keep it safe and protected. Waiting at home, wrapped and sitting underneath her bed for when she gave it to him this week.

“Oh, how lovely,” Kate remarked. “When is Charles' birthday?”

“This Wednesday. He’ll be six,” Sophie replied. “Which reminds me, my godparents are planning a small birthday dinner for him. I’m sure he’d love to have Neddy attend, if you’re free.”

“Wednesday evening?”

“Yep. It would be at my godparents’ home.”

Kate thought it over for a second. “I don’t know if I can take him. I have a couple meetings that day so I’m staying late. But my mother Mary is picking him up for me. I’m sure she won’t mind taking him. And I know Neddy would love to go.”

Sophie smiled. “Wonderful. Charlie will be ecstatic when he hears.” 

And with that there was suddenly a little noise from the pram Kate was pushing, a little gurgle from within, followed by some movement.

“Looks like someone woke up,” Kate remarked, tugging the little blanket down as she peered in.

Blinking, still slowly waking from his morning snooze, Miles’ dark amber eyes looked around before landing on Sophie. He gave her a small, drowsy smirk, making her heart melt. With his chubby cheeks and dark inky curls, the little babe was irresistible.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” she cooed down to the little babe.

Miles only returned her compliment with a big gummy smile that then turned into a yawn as he stretched out. Arms above him, he then swung his legs up to grab them and kicked off the light blanket that had been tucked around him by his mother, as if trying to show off to her that he could now grab his feet whenever he wanted to. He then began kicking them up and down, wriggling excitedly in the pram, seemingly filled with as much energy as his older brother after only waking moments earlier, giggling and beaming brightly as he did.

“Oh, hold on,” Kate said, pulling out her phone. “Gotta get a quick pic.”

Getting a quick snap of her happy son, Kate then tapped the screen of her phone a few times, shooting the picture off as a text. 

Seconds later, her phone buzzed. One buzz became two, and then three, before Kate’s phone started vibrating violently as multiple text messages came through rapid fire. Kate only laughed as she saw the influx of messages appearing on the screen. 

“It’s my sisters,” she told her when she noticed. “They’re demanding more baby photos.”

“Oh, how many sisters do you have?” Sophie asked.

“Five in total, but four of them are my in-laws,” Kate explained as she snapped another photo of Miles giggling in the pram and typed a quick message before sending it. 

Sophie felt her eyes widen in surprise. “That’s a lot of sisters,” she commented.

Kate only chuckled. “My husband comes from a big family. It was a little overwhelming at first, but they’re good people. Couldn’t have been blessed with better in-laws.”

“That’s lovely. It must be nice coming from such a large family,” Sophie remarked. 

“It can get a little chaotic, trust me. Might as well be a family motto. But what about you? You don’t have any other siblings?” Kate asked. 

Sophie shook her head. “Just my steprelatives.”

“What about Charles’ father’s family? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, oh his father isn't really in the picture,” she told her, quieting her voice a little in case Charles could hear them. "Hasn't been since before Charles was born."

Kate’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think–” she started.

“It’s alright,” Sophie assured, trying to politely change the topic as discomfort settled in her stomach. She wasn’t exactly in a position to explain to Kate why Charles’ father wasn’t in the picture.

“I’m sorry,” Kate repeated. “I should have realized. I just thought you were–”

“Divorced?” she supplied, with a small laugh. “That would probably make things easier. But I know Charles’ father comes from a big family. Lots of siblings.”

“Has Charles met them?” Kate asked and Sophie shook her head. 

Kate gave her a sympathetic look. One Sophie was all too used to. One she’d seen many times when she talked about Benedict to other people. The 'oh you poor thing.' She'd gotten it often when she was young too, after her mother had died and then her father.

“Well, it’s their loss,” Kate then told her. 

Sophie only nodded her head in silent agreement. “But enough about me,” she then said, wanting to move the conversation away from Benedict, before more questions could be asked. “What about you? How did you meet your husband?”

“Through work,” Kate answered, before laughing. “We were colleagues initially. Hated each other from the moment we met. But now we’re colleagues on top of being married. And that was after he tried to date my younger sister.” Kate laughed louder when she saw the surprised look on Sophie’s face. “Don’t worry, it didn’t go anywhere. But Edwina and I still make fun of him for it.”

But that wasn’t the only thing that had surprised Sophie. What had perked her interests. She hadn’t realized Kate’s husband worked at Bridgebury as well. She wondered who it was. If she’d met them yet.

“Oh! You and your husband work together. Is he someone I–?” she started to ask, but was suddenly cut off by a vibration from her pocket.

It was a familiar vibration, coming from her phone. Someone was calling her.

“Sorry, hold on,” she politely told Kate as she pulled the vibrating device out of her pocket. Clicking to accept the call and bringing it to her ear, Sophie said. “Hello?”

“Sophie?” It was Agatha.

“Mrs. Danbury, how are you?” 

“I’m sorry to bother you on your Sunday, but I’m in a bit of a pickle right now. Are you free?”

“Is everything alright?” Sophie then asked, concerned. 

“I need the August expense reports,” her boss told her simply. “I thought I had asked you to email them to me Friday but it appears I forgot. You wouldn’t happen to have access to them right now, would you?”

“Oh!” Sophie paused. Glancing around the museum she was currently standing in. “Um…”

“I hate to be a bother, truly, but I need to review something on them,” Agatha explained. “It’s a matter that cannot wait. I’d go to the office myself, but my grandson is out right now, and with my leg it’s rather difficult for me to move around on my own.”

“What’s wrong?” Kate asked quietly.

Covering her phone, Sophie whispered. “It’s Agatha. She needs a document.”

“It can’t wait till tomorrow?” Kate asked and Sophie shook her head.

“Sophie? Are you still there?” Agatha asked.

“Yes, I’m still here,” Sophie quickly told her, her mind racing now as she tried to find a solution. The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint her new boss. Not after everything Agatha had done for her. But she didn’t want to end Charles’ playdate when it had only just begun. 

She could probably take the Tube back to the office. If she had to go. Head over to the office and up to her desk, get the document and send it quickly. Be back here in an hour, if Kate didn’t mind babysitting until she got back. She had her work ID in her purse so it wouldn’t be too difficult. 

She could handle it. It would be fine. She could be in and out in a flash and back here before lunch.

If there was one thing Sophie was, it was fast. Her secret hidden talent. She could do any task quickly and perfectly. And, when it came to travel, she was damn good at reducing the time it would take to get somewhere, making a twenty minute trip ten minutes, if she pushed herself. Sophie was always pushing herself. And she hadn’t burned out yet.

“Um…I’m out at the moment, but I’m nearby,” she told Agatha. A lie. “I just need a few minutes. But I should be able to get it to you.”

“Wonderful. Thank you so much, Sophie. Truly. Sorry again to be bothering you with this. If you have any issues let me know,” Agatha told her cheerfully, eternally grateful. “Take care.”

And the line disconnected as Agatha hung up. 

Sophie took a deep breath. She could do this. It would be fine. She could do this. She just needed to–

“Why don’t I call Benedict?” Kate suggested suddenly, before Sophie had a chance to ask if she minded watching Charles while she ran across town to the office. Sophie hadn't even noticed her friend begin to think of possible solutions to help her. “He said he might be in today. Agatha might not know he's there.”

Before Sophie could tell her she had his number, that she was even fine going to the office herself, Kate had already had her phone out and dialing, handing the device over to Sophie as it rang.

And Benedict picked up right as Sophie hesitantly brought the phone to her ear.

“Hey Kate, what’s up?” he asked as the line picked up.

“Hi, Benedict,” Sophie said weakly. “It’s Sophie.”

“Sophie?! Why are you calling from Kate’s phone? Is everything alright?”

“We’re out together right now.”

“Is Kate alright?” Benedict asked next, still sounding concerned.

“Yes. Yes, she’s fine,” Sophie told him. “I’m calling about work. Agatha rang saying she needed a file. And she needs it ASAP. I was going to head to the office and get it for her, since it's still on my desktop, but Kate said you were in. Are you at work right now? Do you mind emailing it for me?”

“Oh! Sure, I'm at the office. I can send it for you. Hold on,” Benedict told her. 

There were sounds of him getting up and moving around, a door opened that gave her the idea he’d probably been in his office and was now out in the hallway, headed towards her desk. Sophie quietly waited, patiently and silently biding her time as Benedict got to his desk, unable to think of any small-talk to pass the time with.

She did wonder why he was in today. Part of her was tempted to ask why he was spending his day off working. She didn’t recall him doing that in the past. In fact, she remembered Benedict doing everything he could to get out of work, always the first one out when now he seemed to be the last to go. 

“Alright, I’ve got your computer booting up now. Give me a second,” Benedict suddenly said as he sat down in her desk chair. She heard fingers tapping on keys. “Okay…I need a username?”

“S-B-A-E-K.” 

“And the password?” 

“Yeah, it’s–” Sophie started to say before stopping herself. 

Like getting slapped in the face with a sledgehammer, she suddenly remembered what she’d put as her password when she’d been setting up the account. There wasn’t a chance in hell she could say that aloud to Benedict. 

“Sophie?” Benedict asked through the phone when she didn’t answer, but Sophie was still struggling to figure out how to explain this to him.

She swallowed. It was her only option. That there was no easy way around this. 

“Um, yeah it's…U-P-U-R-S-B-B-R-I-D-G-E-R-T-O-N,” she slowly spelled out, trying to spell out the password in a way that would prevent Benedict from figuring out what it was, before biting the inside of her cheek. “Then a colon, an at sign and a one.”

“U-P-U-R-S-B-B-R-I-D-G-E-R-T-O-N,” Benedict repeated back as he typed.

She waited, praying silently he wouldn’t realize what her password said. All she heard was the sounds of keyboard keys being hit as Benedict silently accessed her computer. Meanwhile Kate, standing next to her still, raised a dark brow at her, having quickly deduced what the password was.

“Okay, I’m in,” he then said after a small pause and Sophie let out the breath she was holding. It sounded like he hadn’t noticed. Thank God. 

“Um…so the file is labeled ‘expense reports.’ It should be a folder on the desktop,” she explained, taking a few steps away from Kate, trying to act nonchalant. “Then you’ll want to click the August file and it should be like the first one in there that she wants.”

“Yep, I see it,” Benedict told her. “Hold on. Let me just attach it to an email…and… send!”

Sophie sighed with relief. “Okay, great. Thank you so much.”

“Not a problem. I still owe you for Friday so it’s the least I could do. Thanks again for helping Hyacinth,” he told her. “You have no idea how much it means to me what you did for her.” 

“It was nothing, really,” she replied. “How is she anyway?”

“She’s okay,” Benedict said with a sigh. “I don’t think my mother is ever letting her leave the house again. Haven’t told my brother yet, but I know he’s going to blow a gasket when he finds out. But Mum already got her to lined up to see a therapist just to make sure.”

“You think she’s okay?” 

“Honestly, I think she will be. Hyacinth has always been a resilient kid.”

“That’s good,” Sophie remarked gently. 

“She doesn’t remember much of it to be honest, just you sucker punching the guy after coming to her rescue, and, frankly, I’m grateful for that. And I’m even more grateful you intervened before anything worse could happen.”

“Again, it was nothing really,” Sophie told him. 

“If that asshole gives you any problems let me know,” Benedict added quickly. “I already made sure the police know you were just protecting my sister, but if that jackass tries anything–”

“I know how to handle myself, Benedict,” she said, interrupting him.

Benedict only huffed a small laugh. “I don’t doubt it. From what my sister said, you throw one mean right hook. I definitely know to stay on your good side from now on. I hope I’m on your good side.” 

A smile tugged at Sophie’s lips. “Well, the jury might still be out on that one,” she teased gently.

“Oof, you do not hold back, Baek. I better start upping my game then,” Benedict joked back. She could practically hear his smile. “But I mean it. If that guy tries to sue or get charges filed against you, just let me know. I’ll make sure they disappear. It’s the least I can do.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sophie said, not entirely sure she would if the situation arose. 

“Alright then. I’ll let you go,” Benedict then told her. “Let you get back to your weekend.”

“Don’t stay too long at the office,” Sophie said back. “It’s your weekend too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. See you tomorrow, Soph,” Benedict said softly and after a quick goodbye, he hung up. Before Sophie had a chance to realize he’d used her old nickname. 

“All good?” Kate asked as Sophie approached her.

“Yes, he got it to Agatha,” she answered, holding Kate’s phone back out to her. “Thanks for letting me borrow this.”

Kate only smiled, looking amused as she took the device back and dropped it back into her purse, a mischievous and sly glint in her dark amber cat-like eyes. 

Which is the exact moment Sophie remembered her new friend had heard half of the conversation she’d just had with Benedict. Specifically the part about her current work password. 

And what it was.

“Maybe, Monday morning, you should change your password,” her new friend suggested lightly in a teasing tone.

“Yes, yes, I will. Absolutely,” Sophie quickly replied, cheeks burning hotly once more as Charles and Neddy called out for them to come see the next set of dinosaur bones. "We should probably catch up with them."

—

As Benedict hung up the phone and dropped the phone onto the desk in front of him, leaning back into the chair at Sophie’s desk. He couldn’t help but think about the password she’d given him. He wasn’t trying to, focusing instead on forgetting it since he’d been half-listening when she told him in the first place, but it just kept nagging at him. 

Borrowing a pen and neon pink sticky pad Sophie had on her desk, Benedict quickly wrote down what he remembered Sophie telling him. Once he had it down, spelled out just as she’d said on the phone, he studied the string of letters scribbled onto the pad. 

upursbbridgerton:@1

It took only a second before Benedict found himself bursting out into laughter. He couldn’t believe it.

Up Yours Benedict Bridgerton.  

He was pretty sure he hadn’t laughed this hard in years. 

Chapter Text

“Sophie. What’s your social media?”

“Sorry, what?” Sophie asked, looking up from the papers she’d been in the middle of reviewing. 

“Your social media handle,” Hyacinth clarified from where she was lounging on the couch outside Agatha’s office, the one across from Sophie’s desk. Sprawled across it like a pampered cat sunbathing. “I wanna follow you.”

Sophie frowned, confused. She’d been confused since Hyacinth had appeared around eight that morning. The young girl deciding to take up residence on the sleek, emerald green couch outside of Agatha’s office. Showing up when she should have been in school to come barrage Sophie with a list of questions pertaining to her background and personal life after spending a total of fifteen minutes lauding over how cool and badass Sophie was and if she could teach her how to throw a punch the way she’d seen her do on Friday. 

Apparently, as the young Bridgerton put it, they were best friends now. 

Which probably explained why she wanted her social media info. Something Sophie, fortunately, didn’t have. 

“I don’t have social media,” she told her simply.

Hyacinth frowned, lifting her head up from the couch to look at Sophie, who merely continued going about with her work day. Completing her tasks for the day and making sure all of Agatha’s upcoming cases and meetings were scheduled and prepared for. 

“What do you mean you don’t have any social media handles?” Hyacinth asked.

Sophie shrugged. “I just don’t.”

“You don’t have a Tiktok?”

“I’m not in secondary school anymore so no,” Sophie told her, dismissively, straightening the papers she’d been reading and putting them aside.

“Twitter?”

“No.”

“Instagram?”

She shook her head again.

“Facebook?!”

“Nope.”

“Tumblr?!”

“I don’t have social media, Hyacinth,” Sophie repeated to her with a tired sigh. “I’ve never had a reason to get it.”

She’d never found a particular need for it. Even though Lucy had begged her over the years to make one as well, she just never got around to it. There weren’t many people in her life that she needed to show off her very boring life too. And with Araminta, Sophie frankly didn’t want to risk her former stepmother tracking her down through it. 

And she did not, under any circumstances, want her stepmother finding out about Charles.

“But, Sophie, how are we supposed to be digital besties?!” Hyacinth exclaimed with an appalled look. Her voice almost a whine.

“Then we’ll just have to be real life besties,” Sophie responded, pitching her voice up to mimic Hyacinth's.

Hyacinth then sighed dramatically, dropping her head back onto the couch. Looking like a dramatic heroine in a regency romance novel as she spread herself out across the sofa, while simultaneously continuing to tap away on her phone. She didn't argue any further with Sophie on the matter.

It suddenly became very quiet in Sophie’s opinion. 

“What’s your email?” Hyacinth asked sweetly. But Sophie saw through the sweet facade, suspecting ulterior motives. 

“I’m not letting you make me an account,” she replied back, flatly, and Hyacinth groaned.  

“But–” the young girl started.

“No,” Sophie told her.

“But Sophie–” Hyacinth started again.

“Excuse me,” a male voice interrupted gently.

Sophie looked up to see a young gentleman, dressed oddly like a university professor, holding  a large bouquet of roses in a white, curved vase, standing on the other side of her desk. He kept his eyes trained anywhere but on Sophie or Hyacinth. Seeming to be very interested in a spot on the carpet in front of Sophie’s desk. 

But she recognized him. Phillip Crane. He owned the flower shop down the road from where she lived. Marilla and Thomas got all of their flowers and gardening supplies from his shop, and his kids, a pair of twins named Amanda and Oliver, had attended Charles’ old school. 

They were older than Charles, the twins, so initially most of Sophie’s interactions with the Cranes had been just the polite ‘hello’ whenever she saw them around the neighborhood or during school drop off and pick up. Phillip himself seemed a pretty quiet fellow. Handsome enough that it had gotten him attention from the other mothers, attention which seemed to cause him such immense discomfort that Sophie had started to make conversation with him whenever she saw him. Usually about his flower business, which had kept the other mums at arms distanced till his children were released from the school and he could make a quick escape. 

“I have a delivery for Sophia-Sophie Baek,” Phillip said, voice barely over a whisper. 

“That’s me,” Sophie quickly told him, lifting her hand to give a small wave. 

Phillip nodded, bringing the large vase of pink roses over to her desk and put them down, while Sophie rose from her seat to see who they were from. She picked up the white card pinned in the bouquet and opened it.

Thought you deserved a little something for all your hard work.

– Marilla 

Sophie smiled, touched that her godmother had taken the time to send her such a lovely arrangement. The flowers were blooming, each rose perfect and without any crease or discoloration. Each rose seemed to be a perfect copy of the other. 

“Thank you,” she told him. “Phillip, yes? It’s been a while. How have you been?”

“Good,” Phillip replied. “I haven’t seen you around late–”

“I thought only girls were florist,” Hyacinth suddenly commented bluntly.

“Hyacinth!” Sophie said, giving the young girl a stern look. “That’s rude.”

“What? My mum's florist is a chick,” Hyacinth shot back.

Sophie only closed her eyes and sighed as Phillip chuckled softly next to her. She turned to him and quickly apologized. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Phillip told her. "Most people are usually surprised when they find out I own a flower shop."

“See!” Hyacinth pointed her hand towards him.

“That doesn't mean you should just assume,” Sophie gently told her. “You never know.” 

"But he seriously doesn't look like he'd even be interest in flowers," Hyacinth continued to argue and Sophie took another deep breath, turning to apologize once again to Phillip.

“I know the scientific name of every flower,” Phillip blurted out suddenly, before she had a chance to speak.

Both Hyacinth and Sophie looked at him with surprised and curious looks, having not expected that. And the sudden silence had caused Phillip to become nervous again. 

He cleared his throat, awkward. “I…I study them. A lot. So much I suppose I remembered enough of them that it's become a bit of a party trick.”

“Alright prove it. What are hyacinths?” pipped Hyacinth. “What are they called?”

“Hyacinthus orientalis,” Phillip replied simply.

That only made the girl pout, looking rather disappointed to hear her own name had a rather simple scientific one. 

“You seriously know every flower?” Sophie asked, still not fully believing him. 

“Ask away,” Phillip told her.

Sophie thought for a second, trying to recall the flower names she’d memorized when she was young. From the old book on plants her father had had in his office. 

“Viola odorata?” she asked after a few moments.

“Commonly known as violets,” Phillip answered. “From the violaceae family.” 

She took another moment to think up a new one. “What about jasminum sambac?”

“Easy. White jasmine.”

“Bellis perennis?” 

“Daisy,” Phillip replied with ease. “You’re asking very easy flowers.”

“Well, those were the only ones I remember,” Sophie told him with a shrug, feeling her cheeks warm. 

“I take it they’re ones you like?” Phillip asked her, smiling back. 

“And snowdrops. They used to grow in my father’s yard,” Sophie told him, her cheeks burning hotter. “They’d bloom before the daffodils. I always thought they were lovely.”

“Ah, the narcissus flower,” Phillip remarked off handedly. “Part of the amaryllidaceae family. Commonly linked to the mythological figure cursed to love his own reflection.”

“Well, now you are just showing off,” Sophie teased with a smile, watching as it became Phillip turn for his cheeks to go pink.

“Sorry,” he told her quickly, going back to not meeting her eye anymore. “Sometimes I can get a little ahead of myself. I like plants.”

Sophie only smiled back, waving it off. “They were all plants that grew in my father’s backyard. He was a big gardener. Something was always blooming. No matter the season.”

Not after he died though. Araminita hadn’t been one to get down and dirty, to involve herself in weeding and watering her father’s plants, and Sophie barely had a green thumb. She was pretty sure she had the reverse. She couldn’t even keep a cactus alive. 

Meaning her father’s once blooming garden had slowly withered and died. And by the time she got My Cottage back, she and Thomas had had to remove most of it before she could put the home up for rent, the plants unsalvageable. 

“I know your godfather has quite the front garden,” Phillip remarked.

“Oh, yes, it’s his pride and joy,” Sophie replied, with a laugh. Thomas spent most of the summer weekends tending to the yard. Enjoying the solitude that came with it. “How are Amanda and Oliver?”

Phillip nodded. “Yes. They’re good. Easing in well to the new school year. But I haven’t seen you around at pick up lately…”

“Charles goes to a new school,” Sophie explained. “I just started working here and it was easier to move him to a school closer to my work. Less morning travel this way.”

“Ah, I see,” Phillip remarked, then smiled sheepishly. “Well, there goes my life line.”

“Sorry?”

“Against the other mums. You chatted with me so often last year they all apparently thought we were dating.”

Sophie blinked. “Really?”

Phillip nodded. “I only found out about it myself after the first week of school. One of them came up and asked if we’d broken up. After they noticed you weren’t at pick up or drop off anymore.” 

“I had no idea,” she told him. “If I caused you any problems, I swear that wasn’t my–”

But Phillip only shook his head. “If anything, I thought I was causing you problems.”

She frowned. “Not at all. I enjoyed our conversations.” 

“Well…if you want to continue them, my number is on the card attached,” he told her, motioning towards the bouquet on the desk behind her.

“Smooth,” Hyacinth remarked softly, which was when Phillip’s eyes widened in surprise.

“As friends,” he quickly added, realizing what he had accidentally implied. “I mean–you’re very pretty, I'm just not interested in dating right now. What with the twins and–”

“Oh, I’m not dating either right now either,” Sophie told him, but Phillip continued to panicky babble along. 

“If you’re seeing someone I don’t want you to think I’m–” he continued blabbering.

“I’m not,” Sophie quickly told him again, cutting in. 

Phillip blinked. “You’re not?” 

“Not currently, I’m sort of–” she stopped, realizing Hyacinth was still in the room, having continued to silently watch their back and forth like a tennis match, raising a brow back at Sophie when she stopped. “I’ve decided to refrain from dating. For the time being.”

“I get it. Things ended pretty poorly for me with the kids’ mum,” Phillip told her. “Makes things complicated to try again. Doesn’t it?”

Complicated was an understatement. 

And, speaking of the devil, here it came now.

Coming around the corner and heading in her direction was Benedict. He was smiling too, his usually cheerful crooked smile, until he noticed Phillip, which was when he blinked, frowning slightly as he slowed down in his steps.

Sophie only smiled brightly as she saw him approach. 

“Morning,” she said, beaming.

“Um…morning,” Benedict replied as he came to stand next to her. He glanced from her to Phillip, looking a little confused.

“I better get going,” Phillip said, turning. “Take care, Sophie. If you want to get a coffee, just let me know.”

“Yes, definitely. I’ll text you later,” Sophie told him as she watched him leave. 

“Um…listen. I was wondering if you were free and wanted to get–” Benedict started, but Sophie had suddenly thought of another flower for Phillip.

“Dionaea muscipula?!” she quickly called out, half listening to what Benedict was saying. 

“Venus flytrap,” Phillip shouted back over his shoulder without hesitating, and he was correct. 

“Damn,” Sophie cursed as her new friend only chuckled. She thought she’d had him with that one. 

Smiling to herself, she turned her attention back to Benedict as Phillip disappeared around the corner. 

“Sorry,” she said. “You were saying something?”

Benedict looked a mix of confused and uncomfortable, unsure of what to do. His dark brows furrowed to go with his conflicted expression. Feeling as though he had walked into the middle of a private conversation.

Then his eyes landed on the bouquet behind her. 

His frown deepened as he reached out to touch the flowers, his finger pinching one of the petals of the soft blush tone roses before rubbing his thumb over it. His eyes never moved off the bouquet as he spoke. 

“These are lovely,” he remarked politely, although his voice was flat and his eyes narrowed in annoyance, as if lasers would suddenly shoot from his pale eyes and reduce the bouquet to ash. Something Sophie merely raised a concerned brow at as she noticed. 

“Thank you,” Sophie returned. “They’re from a friend.” 

“That was kind of them,” Benedict said, then his frown deepened before adding. “I thought you hated roses.”

Sophie blinked, surprised. When had he heard her say that? When had she talked about flowers with him recently? With anyone?

“I don’t hate them,” she told him. “They just aren’t my favorite. I prefer–” 

“Daisies,” Benedict finished off-handedly, still frowning at the flowers sitting between them,

“I…” Sophie blinked. “Yes. I think they are underappreciated. And I like simplicity sometimes.” 

Benedict hummed, but said nothing else. His eyes remained on the flowers for a few more seconds, before he finally let go of the flower and stepped away. The frown was still present on his face. 

And it didn’t disappear when he finally noticed his sister. A sister who froze in place as she found herself caught, like a deer in headlights, having hoped her older brother wouldn't notice her long enough for her to make a quick escape.

Benedict’s eyes narrowed. “You are supposed to be in school.”

Hyacinth only shrugged. “I had to return Sophie’s coat.”

“Something which could have been done after school ,” Benedict reminded her, sternly. A dark brow now raised. He then looked at Sophie and asked. “She wasn’t bothering you, was she?”

Sophie shook her head. “Not at all,” she assured him, surprised by the harsh tone Benedict was now using. 

And next to her, Hyacinth was frowning as well. Looking rather annoyed and angry at her older brother. Her lips pressed tightly together as she glared back at him stubbornly. Sophie had to hold back a chuckle as she recognized it. She sometimes got a similar look from Charles. 

“Ignore him, Soph,” she then said offhandedly. “My brother is currently going through a dry spell. Has a lot of difficulty with people and getting them to fuck him.” She then cupped a hand over her mouth and whispered. “Unlike some.” 

Sophie only raised a confused brow back, unsure what she meant by that. But Benedict had stiffened next to her, back becoming rigid as his frown deepened from the insult. 

“And that’s it. Time to get you back to school,” Benedict said, snappishly. He stepped forward and grabbed his sister by the arms, pulling her from the sofa and dragging her away. “Say good-bye to Ms. Baek.”

“But I haven’t even had lunch!” Hyacinth cried out, panicked. 

“We’ll grab something on the way,” was Benedict’s reply. “Let’s go, Hy.”

Sophie frowned as she watched them start to leave, Benedict struggling briefly to get his sister to cooperate and start moving her feet in the direction of the elevator, before remembering Benedict had come here to ask her something. 

“Did you need something?” she asked him as he started pulling his sister towards the elevator. “Weren’t you asking something earlier–?”

Benedict shook his head. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to you later.” 

—

“You are so annoying.”

“Uh-huh. You’ve said that before.” Benedict then pointed his index finger towards the open car door. “Get in.”

They were outside the office, standing on the sidewalk, next to the parked, black Mercedes John drove Benedict around London in. 

Hyacinth, in all her seventeen years of age, was being as stubborn as possible in returning to school. Moaning and whining about having to go back after ditching, again , even though the school had already called their mother and informed her Hyacinth was missing. Which had led to their mother calling Benedict in a panic.

And with everything that had happened Friday, Benedict was at his wits ends with her now. 

“But–” Hyacinth started.

“Get. In. The. Car,” Benedict growled out between gritted teeth, about to start screaming if she didn’t start listening. 

But, thankfully, Hyacinth was smart enough to know when she had pushed too far, letting out a loud, annoyed huff before sliding into the car and buckling herself in. Benedict practically slammed the door shut behind her, before heading towards the front passenger door and crouching down to speak to John through the open window.

“Make sure to walk her into the building. I don’t want her out of your sight until then,” Benedict told him. The back window began rolling down. 

John nodded. “Will do, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“You know what?” Hyacinth shouted, having found her voice again. “Eloise was right. You do need to get pegged.” 

Benedict bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, taking a deep breath. His hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. Anger rising to a boiling point. He was currently dealing with the ice pick pain of disappointment stabbing into his heart from discovering Sophie was going out with someone. He didn’t need to be dealing with his sister and her massive attitude problem and inability to learn anything . 

“I am not having this conversation with you again, Hy,” Benedict snapped back, voice rising. “You’re already grounded and Mum made it clear you will only be allowed your phone during school hours. I’ve told security to not let you up anymore and to call the cops the next time you show up here between 8-3pm on a weekday. Got it?” 

Hyacinth slumped back into her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m aware,” Benedict only deadpanned back. “John will pick you up lunch on the way. And you will not leave the car until you are at school. I’ll be calling the main office in an hour to make sure you got there. Good bye, Hyacinth.”

His sister merely flipped him off from the back seat as the window slowly rolled up, concealing her behind the tinted glass. Benedict let out another sigh as he stepped away as the car then pulled away from the curb and began heading down the street. 

God, he couldn’t wait for Anthony to get back. 

Letting out a much needed sigh, Benedict turned to head back into the office before stopping himself, his stomach growling suddenly. He needed to go get lunch. He’d missed breakfast that morning due to over sleeping and his growing hunger wasn’t helping his already poor mood. It was the reason he was in this position now, having gone to Sophie’s desk to ask if she wanted to get lunch with him.

As colleagues. He was going to ask her to lunch as colleagues. Spending time with her always seemed to brighten his mood and relax him enough that he’d quickly jump back into his work with vigor and energy he hadn’t had earlier. 

And instead, found her happily chatting with another man. One she was now getting coffee with. And the way she’d been smiling at him. In a way he’d never seen from her.

Yet, somehow it was almost familiar. Like it wasn’t the first time he’d seen her beam so brightly. A sense of deja vu hitting him momentarily before the annoyed envy began stabbing at him. Distracting him from wondering why he seemed to have recalled yet, and, instead, pissing him off. Leaving him with a bitter taste in his mouth over the fact that he hadn’t been the one to receive it. 

—

The next morning, there was a small vase on Sophie’s desk. Next to the larger one Marilla had sent. One which was filled with a bouquet of fresh daisies all perfect and flawless, along with a few snowdrops dangling out of the vase like little, angelic, white bells. It was dwarfed by the large vase of pink roses, but was still beautiful and noticeable in its own right.

And even with no note, Sophie knew who they were from. 

Chapter Text

Rosamund’s life had been going so well up until now. 

She had the perfect life. With her great looks, personality, and a lot of luck, she’d been able to secure the perfect job, with a great pay that she barely needed to work for. Enough that she could afford a spacious, luxury apartment in Mayfair while still paying for her lavish wardrobe and expensive lifestyle that left her the envy of all her friends. I mean, she had a reputation to uphold, and money was the only way she could keep it. Making people wish they were her had always been Rosamund’s number one goal in life. 

But there was one missing piece from her perfect life. The one thing she needed to secure not only her future but her place in upper society. 

A perfect husband.

Like Benedict Bridgerton. 

And he was perfect. Funny, charming, talented, handsome and, most importantly, rich . Incredibly rich. Opening doors and practically rubbing elbows with aristocrats rich. He was everything Rosamund wanted in a partner. With a last name that would put her on every VIP list in London for the rest of her life.

And then, Sophie happened. 

Rosamund had been in a foul mood over it ever since. 

Of all people to start working at Bridgebury (under Danbury of all people!) her former step-sister had to be the one to get the job. There was nothing else Sophie could have done to make herself an even greater inconvenience.

Because she hadn't been back when they’d been forced to live together.

It was only six years ago that Sophie had gotten them evicted from the very house her own mother had worked so hard to make into a home after her father’s death. Rosamund hadn’t minded her new stepfather, for the most part he let her do what she wanted, but Sophie had been such a nuisance. She’d always gotten the better stuff. The better cars, the better room, the better phones, and better clothes. It was so annoying. Rosamund’s mother had finally put her in her place after Richard died, but then the little bitch went and sued them.

God, to think what could have happened to them if it wasn’t for all that help Bridgebury gave them during the mediation. 

But, when Rosamund had thought herself rid of Sophie, she finally decides to reappear.

And it took her one day. One fucking day and she had Benedict following her around like some lost puppy. Rosamund had spent years of her life trying to get Benedict to go out with her, putting the charm on thick and dressing in a way that had practically every other man at Bridgerbury wanting her, knowing her good looks did two thirds of the work and her chest the other. She'd made she to know everything Benedict liked, so that she too liked it. She even took a bunch of stupid art history classes, which Posy had made sure she passed. But Sophie, with her stupid smile and stupid voice and stupid cheekbones, had gotten her claws into him without even trying. Without even wanting it.

What the fuck?

And now she was left with a sour taste in her mouth over it. Granted, that sour taste could be from the alcohol she was drinking, but still. It was infuriating. 

Drinks with the girls, a group of fellow Bridgebury employees Rosamund had deemed to have enough social standing to interact with, occurred every Monday after work. Usually at Della’s , a restaurant near the office. Rosamund was already on her fourth drink of the evening, something she’d been trying to curb as of late. Ever since Sophie’s reappearance, Rosamund had found her nervous tick of overindulging rearing its ugly head.

“I mean it's been a total reversal ever since his brother went on his work trip. Everyone’s noticed. Last week he told Mike the department had never been running smoother and I thought Mike had a stroke. He’s never been that nice towards us before. Never. Barely even talks to our department. But recently, it’s been like a total 180 in personality,” Monica said to the group as she sipped her drink. “Right, Rose?” 

Rosamund, lost in thought, didn’t hear her.

“Rose? Hello? Earth to Rose,” Monica said, snapping her fingers in front of Rosamund’s face. 

Flinching, Rosamund blinked and looked over at her, before frowning. Monica worked in IT and was pretty enough for Rosamund to find her worthy enough to hang out with. Along with the others. Clara and Sarah, who were both paralegals, but Sarah’s father made over six figures annually and Clara’s sister worked at Dior as a salesgirl and would give her a discount whenever she went.

Besides, every woman needed an entourage. Or a crowd.

“What?” she asked, frowning. 

“Bridgerton point two?” Monica said, clarifying with a slight annoyed tone. “Benedict? Your boss? He’s been like ten times nicer to everyone lately.”

“Except when Miss Sophie isn’t in,” Sarah added with a smirk and a small chuckle behind her martini.

Instinctually, Rosamund stiffened, concern beginning to fill her at the mention of Sophie’s name. 

“You know you're right,” Clara commented. “Ever since she started he’s become so much easier to work with. He gave me more time to work on the memos for the first time in like forever. Some of the older solicitors even told me he’s acting like he did back when he started. They said people are finally seeing the real Benedict Bridgerton.”

“Even Ms. Sharma said he’s changed,” Sarah said. “And Danbury. She was actually smiling the last time she left a meeting with him.”

“Whatever happened to put him in such a good mood? Something had to have happened,” Clara remarked to the group, shaking her head as she tried to figure it out herself.

The ladies all hummed and hawed, but Monica seemed to have already figured it out. Suddenly sitting up straighter in her seat, face breaking out into an excited smile as if a lightbulb had just gone off over her head. 

“Oh my God, I know what it is!” she announced with a gasp before she descended into that fit of annoying giggles she always made. Which made Rosamund feel like she was listening to nails dragging down a chalkboard.

“What?” Sarah asked, frowning.

“They're sleeping together,” Monica answered between laughs.

“Who?”

“Sophie and Benedict.” 

What ?!

Rosamund froze, eyes widening till they practically bugged out of her skull. Her heart had suddenly slammed to a stop against her sternum. No. It wasn’t possible. She’s specifically told Sophie to back off. Made herself quite clear about it in fact. 

“They have to be,” Monica added, continuing to laugh. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“It did all start after she began working here,” Sarah remarked, nodding in agreement. 

“That’s so sweet,” Clara, the most innocent of them, said sweetly. 

But Rosamund only scoffed. Something the others heard.

“Something the matter, Ro?” Sarah asked, innocently, smiling slyly at her. An auburn brow raised in intrigue.

“She’s probably upset it's not her,” Monica commented to her, as if Rosamund wasn’t sitting right in front of them, and making her bite down on the inside of her cheek.

It had become well known, over the years, Rosamund’s affections for a certain unmarried Bridgerton. Ever since she first started working at Bridgebury after Benedict came back from his accident. Not that she’d tried to hide it. Her main goal since getting the job had been to get in her boss's pants, and in the years since she’d started, she’d gotten nowhere. Which was something the others at the firm had started to realize as well. Meaning the power and authority she had over them as Benedict's secretary was waning with each passing day. 

And, not to mention, she had her mother breathing down her neck about this too.

“A thousand times. I told you a thousand times ,” she started furiously at her during Sunday brunch, after Rosamund had told her there was still no update on her and Benedict. “If you don’t get your claws into him soon, you’ll never get him. Six years. Six years, Rosamund! I do all this work to get you an in with him. To get you through the door. And you’ve given me nothing.”

“But, mother–” Rosamund started. 

“No! There are no excuses,” Araminta Li snapped at her, holding her hand up to silence her. Her manicured painted nail sharper than claws. “Do you have any idea how close we are to running out of money?”

Rosamund blinked, surprised. Since when had money started to become a problem again? The payout they’d gotten from Sophie, the money from Mr. Gun’s will and company, was supposed to last them longer than six years. Decades in fact. 

And the look on Posy’s face told Rosamund her sister was just as surprised by this news as she was. 

“Did you really think that payout would last forever?” her mother hissed, rolling her eyes. “And those checks! They are only just prolonging the inevitable. If we don’t get a new source of income, and fast, you can kiss that pretty Mayfair apartment of yours goodbye.”

“But mother, I’ve tried everything,” Rosamund told her with a childish whine. She had. She really had been trying, but Benedict seemed as uninterested in dating her as he was any other woman who tried to snag his attention. No matter what she did or said, he had some excuse or response. Usually 'no.'

Araminta only rolled her eyes. “Child, there are ways to force a man’s hand. If you’re smart and pretty. I thought I had taught you better.”

Rosamund only stared back at her mother, still shocked by the recent financial revelations she’d made and now even more confused by what it was she meant. Something which just made the older woman more furious with her.

“Alcohol,” Araminta told her, as if speaking to a child. “You get him drunk and in bed. Preferably your own. And don’t worry, if you're not comfortable with doing the deed, you don’t need to do anything with him then. Just wait a few weeks and tell him you’re late.” 

Next to her, Posy’s eyes widened in alarm. Her sister’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“I assure you, it is full proof,” Araminta said, continuing. “It worked quite well on Mr. Gun.”

Even Rosamund was surprised now, having never known the real story behind how her mother and Sophie’s father met.

“It’s quite simple, Rosamund. And easy too. And during the time it will take to disprove it, you can use it as an opportunity to get him. Into. You bed. Properly ,” Araminta continued to explain, voice going sharper with each word, her dark eyes still narrowed as she glared, unimpressed, at her eldest daughter.  

“This doesn’t sound right,” Posy said, weakly, voice barely over a whisper. She looked increasingly uncomfortable with the discussion, while still trying to make herself look small and unnoticeable. 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Posy. And with that sniveling little bastard back in the picture we can’t be taking any chances,” Araminta informed her curtly, head held high, before pointing a manicured finger in Rosamund’s direction. “You need to step it up. I will not have you slacking off on this any longer.”

“I wasn’t slacking–”

“I wasn’t finished talking,” her mother snapped. 

Rosamund quickly snapped her mouth shut. 

“Get him in your bed and do it quickly,” Araminta ordered. “I want a ring on your finger by the end of the year, do you understand me?”

“Yes, mother,” Rosamund replied. 

“Good,” was all she got back, watching as her mother sat back in her seat and took another sip of her drink. The emerald ring on her finger with a diamond on either side sparkled in the restaurant’s lights. “Oh, and be a dear and get more of those checks when you get the chance. Cartier came out with a new collection and won’t be caught dead at Mahjong without a new piece.”

And that had been that. Rosamund had left breakfast panicked and stressed, knowing if she didn’t make some sort of headway with Benedict before she saw her mother again, she was screwed. For the past week since then, Rosamund had been going crazy. Spending every waking moment trying to think of a plan to get Benedict in bed with her. Trying to find any opportunity to.

“Oh, Rose, I’m so sorry,” Clara said, snapping her from her panic. Glancing over she saw the blonde looking at her sympathetically. Rosamund almost scoffed again. At her naivety. 

But it did give her an idea. Her friends thought Benedict and Sophie were together, something Rosamund knew was not possible. She’d been working non stop to prevent it. But what she did know was that her friends were not just big gossips, but big talkers. If they’d suddenly gotten the idea in their heads that Sophie was sleeping with a big partner, it was going to be the talk of the office by Monday. 

Unless Rosamund gave them a new rumor to talk about. 

“Oh no, Clara, I’m not upset,” she told her friend sweetly. “I just find it funny. That’s all.”

“Find what funny?” Monica asked. 

“That you’d think Benedict was seeing Sophie,” Rosamund answered sweetly, smiling sharply at her. 

“Sounds like you're jealous,” Sarah remarked from her left, dark painted red lips pursed as she studied her.

“No, no, that’s not it. It’s just…” Rosamund paused momentarily, before letting out a dramatic sigh. “I shouldn’t be saying this. I promised him I wouldn’t.”

As if practiced like synchronized swimmers, the girls around her all leaned in closer, listening intently and eying her with suspicion and intrigue. Waiting to see where this was going. All while Rosamund let out another dramatic sigh, pouting and making sure to put on a conflicted look.

“Say what?” Monica asked. 

“Well…” She let out another, faux, dramatic sigh and glanced away. “I really didn’t want to say this but…” Rosamund then let the corner of her lips tilt up into a small, innocent smile, making sure to keep her eyes averted for just a little longer before glancing towards her friends as she said. “I’ve sort of been…seeing Benedict.”

The table was silent. The only sounds that of the chatter around them and soft music the restaurant was playing. Before the girls all reacted to the news.

“Oh, Rose! That’s wonderful,” Clara chirped excitedly.

“Really? Since when did this happen?” Monica questioned. 

“Only a few months ago, we finally got together at the Hearts and Flowers Gala. You know. The one his mother hosts at the end of the summer,” Rosamund explained easily. She then let out a breathy, soft sigh. The one her own mother had taught her years ago. Then smiled again, like a lovestruck girl would. “It’s been so lovely these past few months. He’s so wonderful. I've never been happier.”

“Well, finally getting a catch like Benedict Bridgerton will certainly do that,” Monica remarked flatly into her drink. She wasn’t convinced by Rosamund’s tale. At all.  

“Must have been a surprise he’s gotten so close with Sophie recently,” Sarah then remarked, equally as convinced as Monica about her story and now trying to see if she could catch Rosamund in a lie. 

But Rosamund only shook her head. “Not that he really wants to. Sophie’s been having some…difficulties as of late.”

“How so?”

“Well, it’s been pretty much mine, Grace, and Nelson’s jobs to help get her to speed. You know she was a temp before she came to work for us. And not a very good one it turns out,” Rosamund told them, lying through her teeth. “And with Sophie taking up so much of mine and the other’s time, Benedict’s had to get himself involved now.”

“Well, why not just tell Danbury she sucks?” Sarah asked. 

“You know how Danbury is. Whatever she wants goes,” Rosamund replied swiftly, with a simple shrug. “She is one of the founding partners. And Benedict is such a gentleman, he didn’t want the firm to suffer because of her hiring choices. But now, with Anthony about to get back. Well…I’m certain he’ll get rid of her once he returns and sees how poorly she’s been working.”

“That’s such a shame,” Clara said with a sad frown. “She seemed so nice.” 

“Well, the more you know,” Sarah commented with an unimpressed hum and took a sip of her drink.

“Yes, and what a…revelation,” Monica added, sardonically. 

Rosamund frowned. She looked as if she was about to start laughing. At her. Wasn’t her fault she was making this up on the fly. But luckily for her Clara was so gullible, she’d get nothing but sympathy and aid from her in the meantime, while Monica and Sarah would do all the work for her. 

“Oh, but promise me you won't tell anyone,” she quickly added, trying to sound panicked and worried. “You know how private Benedict is. And with me being his secretary and all…well…” she looked off knowingly, biting her lower lip. “The last thing we need is talk.” 

While Clara seemed to believe her without issue, Monica and Sarah shared a look, a side eyed glance with one another, one that told Rosamund they didn’t really believe her one hundred percent. But gossip was still gossip, and this was too juicy for them to ignore. Give it a few days and half the building would be debating whether or not she was in bed with Benedict, and given his lack of interest fraternizing outside of their floor, Benedict probably wouldn’t even realize. Then all she would have to do was get him in bed. 

There was the company dinner coming up. Now that she thought about it. With drinks afterwards at Mondrich’s. She knew Benedict was good friends with the owner, so he always attended. Even if just for a bit. And he was a big drinker. All she’d have to do was make sure he constantly had a glass in his hand and he’d do the rest for her. She could get him in a cab, under the pretenses of being his assistant, then cart him back to her place and into bed.

And the rest would take care of itself from there. 

Now, she just had to get Sophie out of the way. Or, at minimum, ruin her in Benedict’s eyes. 

—

Apparently, that opportunity came quickly enough. On Thursday of all days.

While she was getting lectured by Benedict for the past ten minutes. 

“I asked you five times – five times – to get these papers typed up and sent over to Parker, at Brimesly and Reynolds. I asked you to have this done by the end of last week ,” Benedict told her as he continued his reprimand.

He was standing behind his desk, suit jacket off and resting on the chair behind him. The sleeves of his pressed, sky blue, dress shirt were rolled up, his tie off and the top two buttons undone. Benedict Bridgerton at his finest, even if he stood, frowning with his jaw clench, and his hands on his hips as he lectured her. 

“You know I don’t like having these documents just floating around the office,” Benedict added, brows furrowed. “They’re important to me. And yet you had them sitting on your desk for the past two weeks. Untouched. You could have lost them.”

“I was going to get to it I swear,” Rosamund tried to argue, clutching said documents to her chest. “I just don’t understand what they have to be typed. What can’t we just scan them?” 

Benedict took a deep breath. “Because,” he started, slowly, as if he had already explained this. “There are annotations on these documents I don’t need Parker getting. They have no relevance to his case. Parker just needs the legal theories and analyses on pages four and five. It’s not much and it shouldn’t have been that difficult to do.”

Rosamund chewed her lower lip as he lectured her. She knew she should have been more careful. He’d been in a foul mood all morning, ever since he’d come from Ms. Sharma’s office. Something had to have happened, but what it was, Rosamund had no idea. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” she said quickly, placating. She just wanted to get him to stop so she could leave. “I’ll get to it right–” 

“No!” Benedict snapped. Then he stopped, closing his eyes to take a deep breath. “No. Just…take them to Ms. Baek. She’s a faster typer than you.”

“But she’s Mrs. Danbury’s assistant,” Rosamund argued, weakly. 

Benedict looked up and raised a brow at her, unswayed. “I’m certain, given the case Parker needs them for is being co-defended by Mrs. Danbury,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “That Ms. Baek won’t mind assisting you with this.”

“Of course, Mr. Bridgerton,” Rosamund told him. “I’ll get them to her right away.”

“Go then,” Benedict told her, dismissively, with the way of his hand, as he turned back to his work. To the batch of papers spread out across his desk. 

Making a quick escape, Rosamund started making her way towards Sophie’s desk on the opposite end of the floor, feeling fury slowly build in her bones with each step. 

Sophie this. Sophie that. Sophie’s a faster typer than you. Sophie’s a perfectionist. Sophie knows how to do her job quicker than you. Sophie knows how to do her job better than you. All Rosamund wanted to do was scream in fury as she found herself furiously stomping through the office. 

Stupid Sophie. Stupid, stupid, fucking Sophie!

What was the big deal anyway? They were just a bunch of legal papers. Weren’t they? 

Opening the file and giving the papers a quick scan and Rosamund wasn’t entirely sure what they were. The paragraphs were long and filled with big words like ‘acquiesce’ and ‘reiterate’ along with a bunch of latin and french words. So, definitely legal related. The papers were old and had begun to yellow with time and exposure. The edges had folded and thinned, as if the papers had been handled often, pulled out of the file and touched.

But right at the top of the page was a name. 

From the desk of Edmund Bridgerton. 

Oh, so that’s why they were such a big deal. The papers belonged to old, dead, daddy Bridgerton. They must have been his old notes and articles from when he was alive and working at the firm. She knew there were a few floating around, along with some of his old note books. 

That’s why it was such a big deal. 

Rosamund let out an annoyed huff, feeling rather irked. He could have just said. She would have taken this task more seriously if she’d known they were his father’s stuff.  

Rosamund had learned the hard way that the quickest way to piss off one of the Bridgertons was by messing with their parents. She’d experienced that first hand with Elosie and a joke about Mrs. Bridgerton. It had been a joke. Rosamund hadn’t meant anything by it. Besides, she wasn’t the one who had made it originally. She’d heard it from others in the office after she first started working here. All she’d been trying to do was clarify whether or not Mrs. Bridgerton had been sectioned after her husband’s death. It was one of the rare occasions when she wasn’t trying to be mean or spiteful. She hadn’t realized Elosie was that close with her mother. A shock given how Eloise spent so much time complaining about her mother whenever Rosamund had been around her. 

But ever since then the second Bridgerton daughter had had it out for her, along with Benedict’s other sisters. No doubt having been informed of their little misunderstanding. And it didn’t help that Eloise was the closest with Benedict after Anthony. It was probably her who had been preventing Rosamund from getting anywhere with Benedict. 

Just the thought of it spike Rosamund’s heart rate, fueling her current fury as she continued to scan over the papers. Finding in the margin on one of the weathered pages a scribble of words. In red ink.

23/7 - baby no.2 due date !

With an additional few names scribbled below that. Some had been crossed out but the one at the bottom had been underlined a few times.

Bradley
Beau
Brandon
Bennett - CLOSE!
Benjamin??
Benedict!! - suggest to Vi at dinner. She’ll love it!

Oh, how sweet. Disgustingly, gag inducingly sweet, but still sweet. And it explained why Benedict had kept these papers after so long. It wasn’t just for the notes and opinions his father had written on different cases and laws, but for the little pieces of himself he’d left behind. Scribbled in the margins amongst the corrections and edits. Little reminders for his children to memorialize him.

Rosamund momentarily gagged. Honestly, she couldn’t understand it. He’d been dead as long as her own father had been, and she’d never thought once about that old geezer. 

Her own father had died when she was young. Young enough that she only remembered him as being rather oafish and slow. Big, too. Always smiling with big flushed cheeks, he’d been older than their mother by a decade. But he’d showered Rosamund and her sister with toys and clothes, calling them his little princesses. Rosamund hadn’t disliked him. She remembered fondly the time she spent with him, and remembered being upset when the cancer had moved from his liver and settled in his bones, how he’d wasted away in a matter of weeks. 

But, as she got older, she realized how embarrassing he'd been. Large and loud, and rather clumsy. She hadn’t felt comfortable introducing him to her friends with their pretty parents and prettier houses. To this day she referred to Mr. Gun as her father when asked. He was a much better figure to use, even if he’d never given Rosamund or Posy the time of day the way he did Sophie. Wealthy and successful, with sharp good looks, people had never questioned it. 

Maybe it was a good thing her father had died. Without it, her mother would never have married Mr. Gun and Rosamund wouldn’t have been able to move up in society the way she had. To get to where she was today. 

And she supposed maybe that's why the Bridgertons cared so much about dear St. Edmund. He’d practically had it all; money, success, charm, and the good looks his sons had all inherited. She knew there had been no better match in London than him. That his marriage to Mrs. Bridgerton had been for one of love. Something Rosamund’s own mother refused to believe. 

But she was smart enough to know that if anything happened to the papers currently held in her hands, it would be her head on a silver plater. The best thing she could do now would be to find Sophie, get her to type them up quickly , and then get the file back to Benedict so he would finally calm down. 

So, she went in search of Sophie.

And found her shredding papers. 

She was sitting at her desk. A large stack of papers was resting next to her feet, along with two boxes of files behind her and a big paper shredder in front of her. Its long black wire snaking around her and into a plug in the wall behind her desk. Almost robotic, Sophie lifted a few papers from the pile on her lap and fed them into the paper shredder buzzing loudly in front of her. Then repeated the motion.

“Can I help you?” Sophie asked over the noise suddenly, after finally noticing her. She barely even looked up at her. Just continued with her menial, boring task. The annoying buzzing of the shredder continued on without pause as Rosamund stood next to her, confused.  

Oh! 

Like a bullet, Rosamund was suddenly struck with an idea as she stared down at the shredder. A brilliant, perfect, terrible idea. An idea that would have Sophie kicked to the curb by that afternoon. 

She couldn’t help but smile.

Clearing her throat, Rosamund lifted her shoulder, straightening her back out as she opened her mouth to speak.

“Ben asked me to ask you,” she said to Sophie, speaking loudly so she could be heard over the noise. “If you would type up these notes of his. They’re needed for the Mackenzie case.”

Sophie closed her eyes, shoulders dropping, before letting out an annoyed sigh. “Fine,” she told her, not sounding particularly happy about being assigned this, but didn’t argue it. “I’ll take care of it once I’m done with this.” 

“Perfect! Just make sure you're careful with them,” Rosamund told her, sweetly. “They’re really important documents.”

“Uh-huh. Will do,” Sophie replied flatly and Rosamund could no longer stop her eyes from rolling. 

“I’ll just leave it here on your desk,” she then told her, carefully pulling out the papers from the manila file as she spoke. “Do let me know when you’ve completed it.”

“Sure,” Sophie said dismissively, her back still turned to her. Perfect.

As she walked by behind her, Rosamund gently slipped the notes on top of the pile of papers Sophie had set aside to be shredded. When Sophie barely even looked over her shoulder at her to see what she was doing, she took it as a sign she had not noticed her. Smiling to herself, a pep suddenly back in her step, Rosamund promptly returned back to her desk, dropping the file into the trash as she walked by, and took her seat.

Now, all she had to do was wait for the show to begin.

Chapter Text

“So, Nana is picking me up today?” 

“Yes, my little bumblebee,” Sophie told Charles with a coo and a bright smile, as they continued walking down the street towards his school. 

Thursday morning had started with a lot of excitement and, especially, singing as Sophie, for once, woke before Charles did. And was able to surprise him with breakfast in bed. A stack of pancakes with a birthday candle burning in the middle while she and the Crabtrees sang happy birthday. 

Charles, with dried drool covering half of his lower face and very messy bedhead, had slowly woken up to the noise. Moving at the pace of a South American sloth as he received his breakfast and birthday gifts. 

And much to Sophie's delight, her little gift went over just how she predicted.

“A fossil. You got me a fossil?! My very own fossil !” Charles squealed happily as he saw what it was, suddenly awake and alert. All while Sophie sat on the bed watching him, filled with smug satisfaction. The one that only mothers could get when they watched their children opening gifts, knowing they were about to hear only squeals of delight or excited screams. 

And she was sitting smugly on the bed as Charles explained to her, speaking rapid fire, all the facts he knew about ammonites, before carefully carrying the fossil over to his desk. As if carrying a baby bird, Charles delicately placed it down on the desk, into the stand it came with, and next to the little dinosaur statues and toys he’d collected over the years. He then stood, staring at it in awe, until Sophie told him it was time to get ready for school. 

“And then I’ll meet you at home once I’m off work,” Sophie then told him as they walked down the sidewalk. A little white lie. 

Sophie had been approved to take the afternoon off, deciding to leave at two so that she had time to run to the bakery and get Charles’ birthday cake on her way home. Marilla was going to take him to the park after school, giving her the time she needed to get home and decorate the house with Thomas before his birthday celebration started. She planned to make it a surprise, even if it was just a small little party. Marilla’s daughter would be coming round with her two children, and Kate had told her her mother Mary would drop off Neddy.  

“And then we’ll have loads of cake and open my other birthday gifts?” Charles asked, beaming at her.

“Absolutely,” she replied. 

“And then can we watch the Princess Bride ?” Charles asked. 

“Whatever you want to do, baby, will do. I promise,” she told him, only she suspected he’d be too busy playing with Neddy and the Crabtree’s grandchildren to want to cuddle on the couch with her watching a movie. 

With one, big, squeezing hug, a few kisses on the cheek, and some extra birthday wishes, Sophie watched Charles running excitedly into his school building, disappearing inside. 

She made it to the office soon enough. Making her way across the large front area, she noticed the elevator begin to close ahead of her, right as she swiped her ID card on the security terminal. She called out for it to wait and luckily the person already inside hit the button, preventing the elevator from leaving, and giving Sophie a chance to jump in at the last second.

“Oh! Good morning!” Sophie smiled as found Benedict already inside, and the one who held the elevator for her..

“Morning,” he nodded, returning her smile with a small one of his own. 

Sophie was already in such a good mood, she didn’t mind the warm buzz she felt in her stomach as she saw his crooked smile. She only embraced it, smiling bigger.

“You’re in a good mood today?” Benedict remarked as the elevator began going up. 

“Oh, I just have big plans tonight,” Sophie replied, before feeling her stomach tighten momentarily. Reminded suddenly of her current situation. 

With your son. I have big plans tonight with Charles. You’re son who turned six today.

But Sophie wasn’t going to let that put a damper in her mood. Today was too important of a day for that. And one that had already started off so wonderfully. The issue of Benedict and his memory loss, and how Sophie was going to handle this, was a matter for another day. He wasn’t important today, Charles was. 

Charles always was. 

Still, the knot in her stomach tightened again.

“See you later,” she told him as the elevator doors opened at the sixth floor and stepped out, giving a polite smile to him over her shoulder.

“See you,” Benedict replied back behind her as he briefly followed, before turning in the direction of his office.  

The rest of the morning went rather smoothly. Sophie dove straight into her work to distract herself from thinking about Benedict and Charles. Keeping her mind off of the growing problem that was Benedict Bridgerton. 

But Agatha already needed her help with something, her help reviewing a few expense reports and wanting a second pair of eyes on them. To make sure everything was correct before she sent it to the payroll and the business office. 

Sophie only noticed one or two small errors on them, which she had quickly reported back to her when she finished looking it all over. 

Eyes narrowed, Agatha frowned at the screen from behind the spectacles resting on the bridge of her nose. Not looking particularly pleased.

“You’re sure?” she asked and Sophie nodded. Then she pursed her lips and studied the screen for a few more seconds.

“Is something wrong?” Sophie asked her, concerned.

Agatha only shook her head, moving her mouse and exiting out of the excel sheet.

“No, no. Don’t worry. It's probably just a small error on Benedict’s part,” Agatha assured her with a wave of the hand as she leaned back in her chair. “He’s never been one with numbers. I’ll take care of it.”

“Oh, alright,” Sophie said, nodding. “Is there anything else you need me to do, Mrs. Danbury?”

“Yes, I had one thing I needed help with,” and she pointed towards the file cabinets on the side of her office by the door. “I’ve been wanting to make some space in those cabinets for months now and I thought you wouldn’t mind assisting me with that. Coral had gotten started on it, organizing what needed to be kept and what didn’t. But the papers still need to be shredded.”

“Of course. I’ll get right on it.”

After getting the keys from Agatha to unlock them, being told by her boss where she could find the paper shredder (in the supply closet off of the break room), Sophie opened the file cabinet’s bottom drawer to get an idea of how much work she had.

“Are you sure they are all safe to shred?” she asked, glancing down at the files.

“Of course. Coral moved the ones we needed to keep downstairs. The rest of them are either ancient or outdated,” Agatha assured. “No need to keep any of it around any longer. It’s just taking up space at this point.” 

And with that, Sophie got to work. Pulling out the old files from the cabinet, leaving them temporarily on the ground in Agatha’s office before moving them all out and next to her desk, a few ending up on top of the table. 

“Oh, and I just wanted to remind you,” Agatha called out and Sophie turned back around, her arms filled. “I’ll be out at noon for my meeting. And with this infernal chair still mine for another week, my chauffeur will be taking me from the meeting to my dinner tonight. So, if I don’t see you, do have a good evening and do tell Charles ‘Happy Birthday.’”

“I will,” Sophie told her and headed back out to her desk. 

For the next hour, Sophie shredded, emptying the merger sized shredder once it was filled too tightly and replacing the bag, before continuing with her task. It was menial and repetitive, nothing but the most boring busy work one could do, but it was still a nice change. She stopped briefly to take a few calls and have her lunch, before returning it.

Then, Sophie felt someone standing behind her.

A quick glance over her shoulder and she sighed. It was Rosamund. Dressed in a white dress with tiny dots of red flowers scattered across the fabric, with little shoulder ties tied up into pretty bows peeking out underneath the cream colored cardigan covered she wore, while her inky hair was in a loose braid over her shoulder. Today’s theme seemed to be virtuous maiden. 

“Ben asked me to ask you,” she began to tell Sophie, without even saying hello and raising her voice so she could be heard over the noise of the shredder. Sophie suppressed the urge to roll her eyes as she turned back to her task, still listening to her former stepsister continue saying. “If you would type up these notes of his. They’re needed for the Mackenzie case.”

Of course. Because why shouldn’t she also be doing Rosamund’s job for her.

“Fine,” Sophie told her, knowing there was no point in trying to argue with her. “I’ll take care of it once I’m done with this.” 

“Make sure you’re careful with them. They’re really important documents,” Rosamund informed her, sounding oddly cheerful. 

“Uh-huh. Will do,” Sophie returned, as she straightened the pile of papers on her lap so stray pieces didn’t slide off and brought her focus to the shredder. 

“I’ll just leave it here on your desk. Do let me know when you’ve completed it,” Rosamund said next, before Sophie heard the sounds of her heels clicking further and further away. 

Sophie continued shredding, deciding to get to work on the papers once she’d finished her work for her boss. Until she finally got through most of her pile, emptying the shredder a few more times till she had more filled trash bags next to her desk then files and loose pieces of paper.

And as she emptied out the shredder for the last time, putting it back in the supply closet, Sophie returned to her desk to find Benedict waiting for her. 

“Hi,” she said, cheerfully. 

“Did you finish typing up those notes I asked for?” he asked her. Sophie frowned, noting how he looked to have lost the good mood he’d been in earlier. 

Not to mention, what notes?

“Um…” she paused, confused, hoping he’d clarify. 

“Did you get the file?”

“File?”

“To type up. Rosamund said she gave it to you,” Benedict added, starting to sound rather exasperated.

“ Oh ! Right, yes, I was about to get to them,” Sophie replied as she remembered the request Rosamund had given her earlier, scanning her desk for said file.

Only it wasn’t there. Which was strange. She could have sworn it had been left on her desk.

“They’re my fathers old legal theories. I need them back,” Benedict then told her as she looked around. “I’m just going to do it myself.” He let out an exhausted sigh, sounding drained. “I should have just done that in the first place.”

Sophie stopped her search and looked up at him, frowning. 

“They’re what ?” 

Rosamund hadn’t mentioned that. If Sophie had known those papers belonged to Benedict’s father, she would have done the task immediately. 

She knew how important Benedict’s father was to him. Knew he still wore the red signet ring on his left pinky, the one he’d told her his father had given him for his seventeen birthday. A posthumous gift, since Benedict turned seventeen two months after his father died. He was wearing it right now. She wasn’t sure he ever took it off.

And she knew, from the many occasions she’d slept over at his apartment, that he had kept some of his dad’s old notebooks and papers. He’d mentioned once that his father had written a few times for academic journals, some which had gone out of print, and that the remaining copies of those articles, drafts and final copies his father had kept, Benedict had been able to get his hands on. That must have been what was in the file. What he’d been asking her to type up. 

Anything he had left of his father, no matter how small, Benedict had ended up treasuring and protecting. Like his life depended on it. 

And that knowledge only hastened Sophie in her search. 

As she searched her desk for the hundredth time, rising to her feet to get a better view of the clean, organized table, Sophie began to mentally trace her steps, trying to narrow down where the file could have gone. 

She’d come in after dropping Charles off at school. Had run into Benedict in the elevator. Fallen into Benedict in the elevator, before finally getting to her desk. Made a quick coffee. Checked in with Agatha. Then she’d quickly worked on the expense reports before going to grab the shredder while Agatha headed out for her meetings. Her goal being to empty out at least one drawer by the end of the day. 

Which was when Rosamund found her, while she’d been shredding all those documents and old papers. Even gotten a few from her desk she’d left there while emptying the cabinet, hastily grabbing from from a stack of files next to her computer, where Rosamund had said she’d put the file, and–

Her eyes widened. No . No, she couldn’t possibly have.

“Oh God,” she gasped out.

Had she accidentally shredded them? She couldn’t have. There was no way she would have been that negligent. But Sophie had no recollection of not doing that. She’d grabbed a few spare papers off her desk to shred that was true, but she was certain she hadn’t grabbed the file Rosamund had left for her. Had it even been there? She said she’d left it on her desk, but her desk had been covered with other papers that–

“What?” Benedict asked her, annoyed. His words cut through her panicked thoughts. 

She glanced up at him, throat tightening as she found herself struggling to find the words. Instead, she just gaped at him. Like a fish on dry land. Unable to speak. Sophie's stomach was now resting heavily at her feet, twisting and tightening as she hesitated. Her heart close to following plummeting to. As she realized what it was she might have just done. 

But she couldn’t not tell him. And the realization of what she had done, what she’d just done to him, was stabbing an ice pick into her heart. 

“I um…” she cringed, mortified. Appalled by her mistake. “I think I shredded them.”

Benedict blinked, his face going pale while his eyes widened in horror. “You…you did what?” he asked, slowly.

“Agatha asked me to shred some of the older files to make space up here. I was trying to get them done before I got to your task, but…they must have somehow ended up in my pile,” Sophie told him quickly, trying to explain. 

This new information was not going over well with Benedict. He swayed slightly, looking momentarily like he was going to collapse, before he took a step back to steady himself. His pale eyes were still wide in shock and disbelief, as if he still hadn’t fully processed what she’d done. Like he was going into shock. Reaching up, he ran a shaky hand through his hair, all while Sophie stood before him, her stomach twisting further into a worried knot.

“You shredded them?” he asked her, breathing heavily. His hand clenched around the strands at the back of his head and tugged on them, as he tried to stay calm. 

“I’m so sorry. It was an accident,” Sophie told him. “I swear I didn’t mean to. I–” 

“ Do you –” Benedict started furiously, stepping towards her before stopping himself, hands clenching and unclenching as he took another deep breath and let both his arms drop back to his sides. Quieter, but still appalled and angry, he said. “Do you have any idea what you just did?”

“It was an accident,” she repeated. “Benedict, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? You're sorry?” Benedict asked her back in disbelief. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” she said, shocked. Why couldn’t he see that it was just an accident? 

But Benedict didn’t seem to be listening to her at all.  

“Those notes had–he wrote–I–do you have any idea what you did?” He was stuttering now, like an angry, broken record, unable to speak. 

Benedict ran his hand through his hair again. The nervous tic Sophie knew and recognized. It meant he was descending into a heightened emotional state now and was currently trying to calm himself down. That his emotions were high. His face alone was enough to tell her she might as well have just stabbed him in the back. 

“I still have the trash bags. I’ll go through them,” Sophie hastily explained, trying to find a solution. “I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll find the pieces. Maybe I can tape them together.”

But Benedict only laughed at her. “Tape them together?” he said with a scoffed, letting out a pitiful laugh of disbelief. His jaw clenched tightly as he stared down at her and added. “And tell me, Ms. Baek, how many papers did you shred today?”

Sophie paused, thinking it over for a moment and glancing at the large pile of trash bags behind her, before looking down at her feet and saying quietly. “Almost a cabinet’s worth.”

“And you don’t even know when you shredded them,” Benedict added, voice tight as he shook his head at her. “Trust me, I know a fool’s errand when I hear it.” 

“Benedict, just tell me what I can do to help?” Sophie asked, gently. “I’m sorry. I really am.” 

The clenched muscle in his jaw seemed to relax as he let out a breath. 

“I have the file memorized,” he told her, sounding as though he was calming down. “I’ve got a meeting in thirty minutes, but I can sit down with you after. I’ll dictate it to you while you type.”

Sophie nodded. That could work. She was a fast typer and Benedict was a good orator. It shouldn’t take them too long. Glancing towards the clock, to get an idea of how long she’d have to get this done, Sophie froze. 

And realized what time it was.

It was almost two. She needed to leave now, so she could also pick up the cake on her way, get the decorations up and be in the house before Neddy and his grandmother arrived. 

There was no possible way she could stay late tonight. She just couldn’t.

“Shit,” she cursed out quietly.

“What?” Benedict asked. 

She hesitated, knowing Benedict wasn’t going to take this well. 

“Benedict, I swear to you, I swear I will fix this,” she quickly told him, apologetic. “But I can’t do that today.”

His frown deepened. “And why not?”

“I-” she took a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain why. “Agatha gave me the afternoon off due to a personal matter. She said I could leave at three. I have to go.”

Benedict only continued to frown at her, unimpressed. “Is this personal matter a life or death one?”

“To me it is, yes,” she said.

“Is someone dying?”

“No, it’s–”

“Important doctor’s visit? Is this related to your health?”

“No, I just promised someone–”

“Then I’m certain it isn’t that important and you can just reschedule it?” Benedict then snapped at her. 

Sophie blinked, flinching. Her mind screeched to a halt as she found herself stunned by his words. She’d never seen him this angry, and certainly not with her. 

While she might have cared enough once to sit down and speak this out with him like the grown adults they were instead, she frowned. Feeling herself begin to grow upset over his behavior. Wanting nothing more than to get out of this conversation so she could leave. So that she could go be with her son. The son he’d left her to raise alone. 

“You’re being unreasonable,” Sophie told him, tensely.

“ I’m being unreasonable?” Benedict retorted furiously. “When you shred valuable documents without even thinking ?!”

“You think I did that on purpose?!” she argued, shocked. 

“No. I said you weren’t thinking,” Benedict clarified, still angry, and Sophie had to swallow the angry insult she’d been about to shoot at him. 

He wasn’t going to budge. The stubborn bastard. Why did he have to be so stubborn?

“Please,” she begged, shifting tactics. “ Please , it's a family matter.”

“What is it then?”

“It’s…I…” She glanced towards the clock again and swallowed. What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to explain this? 

Benedict sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you can’t even tell me what this family matter is, why am I supposed to believe it's that important?” 

“I’ll help you tomorrow. I promise. I’ll come in early. I'll even come in this weekend! I’ll take as long as it takes to fix this, but I just can’t do that today,” she said, trying to find any sort of middle ground. “I’ll come back later tonight. I just need a few hours and I can be back here. Eight o’clock. I promise.”

But this all only seemed to upset him further. Benedict’s back stiffened up as she explained herself. His body went tight and rigid, his eyes narrowing as he glared down at her. Hands clenched at her sides. 

“So, you have a very important family matter that you can’t reschedule, but it's apparently not that important if you can make me wait around for you to come back later? Remind me again, Ms. Baek, why you can’t just reschedule?” he asked, impatiently. “You just said you were willing to take as long as needed today to fix this.”

“Please, Benedict,” she said, she was desperate now. “I have plans tonight and I can’t miss them.” 

“Plans you seem incapable of telling me,” was Benedict’s reply. 

It was going nowhere. The conversation. 

And Agatha was out of the office for the rest of the afternoon, and then on to a scheduled dinner with a few other solicitors she’d gone to school with. Sophie would have called her for help if it wasn’t for her purse currently sitting on the chair in her office. And Kate was also gone, having gone to meet with a client she’d described to Sophie as being a ‘Chatty Kathy who needed to be sedated every ten minutes’ and she had no idea when she’d be back. 

She was on her own in this.

And it was her fault. If she’d been more vigilant of her surroundings while she’d been shredding all those files, this never would have happened. 

“Fine,” she said, defeated. “Fine. I just…I just need to make a few calls.” 

“Fine,” Benedict parroted back, still snappish and annoyed. “While you do that, I’ll go get my things. I’ll meet you in the conference room.” 

And with that, he turned and disappeared. Heading back down the hall to his office, while Sophie grabbed her purse and pulled out her mobile, calling Marilla. 

“Sophie?” 

“Hey, Marilla um…” Sophie ran a hand over her face. “There’s been a change of plans.”

“Is everything alright?” her godmother asked, concerned. 

“Something’s come up at work and I’m going to need to stay a little longer,” she explained. “Can you or Thomas get the cake? I think I’ll just be an hour or two late.”

“Thomas can get it, sweetheart, don’t worry,” Marilla said, noting the stress in Sophie’s voice. “You’re sure everything is okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m okay. I should be home before five,” Sophie told her. 

“Alright,” Marilla said, relenting. Sophie could tell her godmother wanted to argue with on this, remind her she’d been approved to take off, but wasn’t pushing it. “Don’t stay there too long, Sophie.”

“I won’t. I promise,” Sophie replied. “I’ll see you later.” 

Hanging up and gathering her things, Sophie made her way towards the single conference room on the sixth floor. Where she waited for Benedict outside. Next to the glass wall that made up one side of the room. 

As she waited, Sophie planned out how she could get out of here quickly. It should only take an hour or so. If she got home after five it would be fine. She’d still be there to celebrate Charles’ birthday. 

“Let’s go,” Benedict ordered, voice tight, as he appeared next to her. 

She followed him into the conference room, rather pitifully. 

“We can get started, but I only have twenty minutes before I have to get to a meeting and that article was one of my father’s bigger ones. I'm surprise you didn't notice, it was a lot of pages,” Benedict told her, holding the door open for her. 

Sophie bit back a curse. The knot that had tied itself around her stomach was tightening again, squeezing the organ to the point it felt like it would burst. She had no idea how long Benedict’s meeting was going to be. Let alone how long the notes were.

“And how many pages was it?” she inquired carefully, as she sat down.

“Total?” Benedict said tightly, almost slamming his stuff onto the table as he put it down next to her. “Sixty.”

Sophie wanted nothing more than to burst into tears.

Chapter Text

It was five o’clock. The clock hanging on the wall had just hit five pm in the afternoon and Sophie was still stuck here. Stuck, sitting in what felt to be a perpetual limbo that was the sixth floor conference room with Benedict. 

And they’d only gotten to page twenty two, according to the Word document Sophie was working on in front of her. 

Two hours and they only made it a quarter way through retyping the article. Benedict had had to go to his meeting, which had lasted till four, and then after they’d started working on it, he’d kept having to step out to answer calls and since he was the only one with the pages memorized, Sophie was stuck waiting for him to return each time. Every call just delayed their progress. And she was left, unable to do anything but sit at the table, her eyes constantly glancing towards the clock hanging on the wall. Watching it continue to tick by. Reminding her that Charles’ birthday celebration was starting now . That she hadn’t even been able to make it home in time to greet him. 

Not to mention Benedict's mood had turned into an erratic pendulum, bouncing from angry and annoyed to being momentarily apologetic and patient. He’d gotten them dinner, sandwiches from the shop around the corner, but Sophie could stomach any food at the moment other than water. And besides dictating the words for her to write down, Benedict hadn’t said anything else to, remaining as silent as she was. 

Even when they’d been together, they’d never argued like this. Not once. They’d had disagreements, sure. Bickered once in a while too. But she only remembered one occasion where they had escalated to a full blown screaming match. 

And of course, it had been over Araminta. 

He’d taken her mail up for her one day and had noticed an envelope, one from her father’s old attorney amongst the pile of junk mail and bills. Noticing a law firm's name stamped on the outside, he’d grown concerned and had asked her if everything was alright.

And Sophie reacted (as she always did when it came to her steprelatives) by shutting down. Snatching the envelope from him and snapping at him for going through her stuff, telling him to never do that again, and Benedict, understandably, was at a loss as to why she was suddenly so upset with him. And when she refused to explain herself or accept any help he offered, he only grew more upset. Which had only further infuriated Sophie leading to the two of them screaming at each other about privacy and trust, until the neighbor had pounded a fist on the door telling them to shut up. Benedict had told her not to call him until she was ready to be honest with him and stormed out of her apartment. 

The argument had been her fault. She had started it. 

She may also have been a little too hormonal when it happened. A certain little peanut whose name began with C had just begun to start growing inside her, so her emotions had been a little out of whack during those days. Not that Sophie realized until months later. 

But in the end, after a day or two had passed, Sophie had accepted it was her fault. That she’d overreacted over nothing and needed to be the one to apologize. 

They still hadn’t spoken to each other for the rest of the week. By the time Sunday had come around, Sophie had been certain he wanted to break up with her. Especially when her text message attempts at apologizing had gone unanswered. 

But Sunday evening he was back at her doorstep, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a pint of her favorite ice cream in the other. A pitiful, apologetic expression on his face that had Sophie opening her door further to let him in. He’d had her in his arms seconds later. In bed a few seconds after that. 

“I’m sorry,” Benedict had mumbled into her shoulder later that night, as he laid on top of her, his arms wrapped tightly around her chest, holding her close. 

“I’m the one who's sorry. I overreacted,” Sophie had replied as she carded her fingers through his hair, the other one running up and down his bare back soothingly. “I just…I don’t want to talk about it right now. Later, alright? I’ll tell you about it later. When it's over.”

“Do I need to be worried?” Benedict then asked, sincerely, lifting his head to look her in the eye. “Cause if something’s wrong, Soph, I wanna help.”

Sophie only shook her head. “It’s fine. I promise, you don’t need to worry about me.” 

He’d then leaned down and kissed her. “Forgive me, but I care about you Sophie. I’m going to worry.”

But the Benedict sitting next to her didn’t know any of that. Didn’t remember saying that, or the argument that had preceded it. The months of dating. He was a different man now. A man who just continued dictating to her the words she needed to type down. 

And as he did, her phone buzzed next to her. 

She tried to ignore it, clicking the button on the side to send it to voicemail or silent, but a minute later the phone would start ringing again.

“If you’re not going to get that, I suggest you turn it off,” Benedict advised her, eying her vibrating phone as if it were some annoying gnat flying about. “I can’t focus.”

Sophie cringed. “Sorry,” she told him, picking up the phone and checking it. 

It was Marilla. No doubt wondering where she was now that it was getting close to six. 

“Sophie?” her godmother asked as she answered the phone.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Sophie said, rising from chair and moving across the room, to get some privacy. “Is everything okay?”

“Is everything–? Sophie, it’s five o’clock,” Marilla told her, sounding concerned. “Where are you?” 

“I’m uh…” she glanced over her shoulder, quickly spotting Benedict who was watching her intently, before turning back around and whispering. “I’m still at work.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m still working on my um…my project.”

“What project? You’re a secretary.”

“It’s just…I accidentally shredded the wrong records and now I’m trying to help replace them.”

“Are you being forced to be there?” Marilla asked, well, demanded she answer. Her voice grew more concerned. 

Damn her godmother and her sixth sense. Four daughters and a possible witch for an ancestor, meant Marilla could gleam lies through face or tone, meaning she could tell when Sophie (her least reckless and best behaved charge) was trying to hide something. 

“ No !” Sophie quickly said, cringing as she immediately gave herself away with the defensive tone she accidentally used. 

“Sophie, this is ridiculous. They can't keep you there like some prisoner over some papers,” Marilla barked at her.

“It’s my fault,” she told her. “I caused this. The least I can do is fix it.”

“Sophie–”

“Please!” Sophie finally snapped. “Can we just discuss this later? When I get home?”

“Fine,” Marilla relented with a huff. “But don’t think you’re getting out of this that easy.”

“How’s…” Sophie looked back at Benedict again before turning around and asking in a hush voice. “How’s Charles?”

“He’s fine. The kids are all eating dinner right now. But he keeps asking me when you’ll get here. And I’m running out of excuses,” Marilla informed her gently.

“Let me talk to him then. I’ll tell him.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea Sophie. I can handle it really.”

“I just need to talk to him. Please.”

There was a short pause. Silence emanated from the phone as her godmother pondered the request. 

“He’s not going to be happy about this,” Marilla advised her.

“Yes, I know that, but I’m not going to lie to him. Can you just put him on, please?” Sophie begged. 

Marilla only sighed and called out for Charles. While she waited, Sophie slipped out into the hallway, trying to put more distance between her and Benedict. She waited a few moments, chewing her lower lip and pacing back and forth, until she heard the phone being shuffled around. Handed off to someone.

And then Charles’ sweet little voice. 

“Hi Eomma!”

“Hey, baby. How are you?” Sophie said, trying to sound as positive as her son did. Forcing a weak smile in an effort to keep her tone light. Knowing she was about to have a truly dreadful conversion with him.

“Nana and Pop-pop threw me a surprise party and Neddy knew the whole time!” Charles rapidly began telling her. “We’re eating kimbap right now and Hannah and Michelle came over too with Auntie Liz! They got me walkie talkies as a birthday present! I’m giving one to Neddy so that we can always talk to each other.”

Sophie couldn’t help but smile. She wasn’t sure the walkie talkies would work over such a long distance.

“That’s lovely. Did you say thank you?” she asked her son.

“Uh-huh, I did. And Neddy got me a dig kit so that I can dig up my own fossils,” Charles then told her, rambling on excitedly once more. 

Sophie patiently listened to her son talk, finding it to be a temporary solace to the situation she was in. A quiet reprieve from the limbo she was trying to get out of. 

“When are you getting home?” Charles suddenly asked. 

“Um…” Sophie hesitated, glancing over, through the glass panes where Benedict was sitting at the conference table in the other room, watching her impatiently with a brow raised and his arms crossed over his chest, one finger tapping impatiently against his elbow. “Something came up. And I uh…I think I’m going to be very late getting home tonight.”

“What do you mean?” her son then asked, worriedly, voice suddenly small and quieter. 

She sighed. “I’m sorry, honey, but I think…” She took a deep breath. “I think I’m only going to miss your party.” 

Silence. Sophie bit her lip, waiting for the news to set in. 

“But you promise!” Charles suddenly yelled, voice croaking as he began to get upset.

“I know,” she took a deep breath. “I know. I’m sorry, baby,” Sophie told him, trying not to cry herself. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

Behind her, she heard the door open. Sophie cursed mentally, knowing it was Benedict. Mostly likely come to tell her to get a move on and finish her conversation.

But Charles was now crying. “You said you’d be here!” he wailed on the other end. Sophie could hear Marilla, in the background, begin to try and console him. Her heart silently breaking in her chest as she knew she couldn’t be there to comfort him herself. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll see you later baby. I promise. I love you, okay? Bye,” Sophie said as he continued to cry, and quickly hung up herself as she felt tears burning in her own eyes. Knowing she had to get off the phone before she too broke down. 

She turned and quickly moved past Benedict, pushing past him in an effort to not let him see her red eyes, and returning to her spot at the table. Sitting down, she quickly wiped the water from her eyes as Benedict slowly moved around the room and sat back down next to her.

“Everything alright?” he asked and Sophie almost scoffed.

“Fine,” she retorted quickly, clearing her throat. “Let’s just finish this. Alright?”

—

Alright. He may have gone a little overboard. 

What was the saying his sisters used to spit at each other when they were younger and arguing with one another? 

Jealousy’s a sickness. Get well soon.

But it was his father’s notes. His father’s notes . She’d shredded them, without even realizing what they were, and now they were gone. Destroyed. It wasn’t the article he was upset about, he’d memorized that years ago. It was the little scribbles from his father written in the margins that had left him with a pit in his stomach and a sour taste in his mouth. Years of unresolved grief suddenly flooded through his veins over it. 

Those little comments that brought a smile to Benedict’s face whenever he read them, reminding him of his father and his habits, were now gone. Scribbles that revealed how the successful, hardworking solicitor Edmund Bridgerton was actually a scatterbrain who couldn’t keep track of anything unless he wrote it down. It was why he’d had so many notebooks and planners. And if he didn’t have them on him, he’d grab the closest piece of paper he could find and use it to get his thoughts down before he lost them. Leaving additional traces of him behind, like primary sources. Historical writings that gave insight to the man his father was. They were why Benedict had kept so many of them over the years.

But still, that wasn’t enough of a reason to keep her here. Sophie was right. This could be done in the morning. And Benedict still had boxes of stuff from his father at home. It wasn’t the end of the world.  

He’d just used it as an excuse to keep her here late because he didn’t want her going on that date. 

Yes, he’d been angry about the papers but he’d been angry before that. Angry since that morning, after he’d gone to Kate with a question, only to overhear her talking about Sophie with her assistant.

“Oh, he’s such a sweetheart too, Alice. Sophie’s so lucky to have him,” he heard Kate say as she then laughed. “He’s more of a gentleman than Anthony is.”

So, things had progressed with the florist. She’d mentioned having big plans. They had to be with him. And that thought had spiraled into a hundred other thoughts. Once that had led to a stabbing pain building behind his eye as the day progressed. Turning into a migraine by noon and causing him to snap at Rosamund. And then at Sophie when he found out what had happened. 

So, yes, maybe he overreacted a little bit. Forced Sophie to stay behind longer so that she couldn’t go on her date. But now, after she’d returned from her phone call, hearing her occasionally sniffle and wipe her eyes, barely touch the food he’d gotten her, he was beginning to feel ashamed. 

He should just let her go. It was after seven now and they were halfway done. The potential for going out on a date having long been ruined.  

But it seemed fate might have felt the need to intervene. 

The door to the conference room opened and in rolled Agatha Danbury, being pushed into the room by her chauffeur. 

“Apologies, Benedict, but you didn’t happen to see my purse in here did you? I realized I forgot to bring it with me when I went out,” she asked, scanning the room from her wheelchair. 

“It’s in your office, Mrs. Danbury,” Sophie weakly said before Benedict could answer. 

The smile dropped from Agatha’s face, her face shifting to surprise as she did a double take, having finally noticed Sophie sitting next to him. 

“Ms. Baek?” she asked, alarmed, before glancing down at the watch on her wrist and noting the time. “What are you still doing here?” 

“I um–” Sophie started weakly to explain but was cut off.

“Ms. Baek is assisting me with the papers you wanted for the Mackenzie case, given her negligence resulted in them being destroyed,” Benedict informed her, straightening his back.

“Negligence? What happened?” Agatha asked.

“I um…I accidently shredded them,” Sophie answered.

“I see…” Agatha commented, immediately understanding what had happened, before frowning. “Forgive me, Benedict, but this couldn’t wait until the morning.”

“No,” Benedict snapped. 

A brow slowly rose up on Agatha’s face. “Yet, I approved Ms. Baek to leave early today.”

“Ms. Baek is–” he started.

“It’s fine, Mrs. Danbury. It was my fault–” Sophie said at the same time.

“ Ms. Baek ,” Agatha interrupted sternly, raising a hand to silence them before she continued. “There is no need for you to be here any longer. I will handle this matter with Mr. Bridgerton myself.”

Next to him, Sophie hesitated, looking between him and Agatha worriedly, before deciding there was no other opportunity she was going to get to leave then right now. Hastily closing her laptop and collecting her things, Sophie quickly moved to exit the conference room. 

“I apologize for you being kept here longer than needed. We will speak in the morning,” Agatha told her gently as she got to the door. Sophie nodded, shakily, before quickly slipping out of the room and fleeing down the hall, as if worried she might get stuck here again if she didn’t get out of here quick enough. 

As Sophie disappeared down the hall, Agatha waved at her chauffeur to give her the room as she rolled the chair further in, waiting till the door shut behind her. She was silent, jaw clenched as she processed what had happened, glaring at him the entire time.

“You know what?” she finally said. “This is my fault.”

Benedict frowned. “Agatha, I hardly doubt–” he started.

“Do not. Speak !” she snapped at him, furiously. 

He blinked. Benedict stared at her, confused, but stayed silent. Watching as Agatha took another deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose as she decided on what to say next. 

“I see my mistake now. That I’ve allowed this to go on too long. I took a step back. Chose to give you space and time to recover after your accident because I did not want to push you too quickly. And because of that I became lenient. I allowed you to become this ,” she said, snapping as she spoke the final word and pointing her hand out at him, unable to comprehend what was in front of her. “I scarcely even recognize you sometimes.” 

“What are you talking about?” Benedict finally asked her, at a loss. 

“Do you have any idea how much people downstairs talk about you? About your attitude? Your indifference? Your apparent lack of empathy?” Agatha asked him. “You’re worse than Anthony. And I thought–I thought, for a moment, that you were improving. That you had finally realized how you’d been behaving, but now I see I was wrong.”

“She shredded my father’s article. The one you wanted me to send to Parker,” Benedict shot at her. 

“And one I believe you have memorized,” Agatha returned, equally as stern. “I approved Ms. Baek’s PTO last week . I let her take off the afternoon and you held her back over something that could have been resolved in the morning.” 

Benedict only scoffed. Refusing to admit she was right. “I’ve taken time out of my own day to help her,” he argued back. “I had no reason to stay here late either, yet I did.”

“You think that excuses holding her here against her will? Behind my back ?!”

“ No !” Benedict shot back immediately. 

“Then please explain to me why you felt this was an appropriate way to handle this?” Agatha asked him. 

“Was I just supposed to have her leave after what she’d done? You know how important those notes are to me and my family, and she not only told me she was willing to help, only to backtrack seconds later, but refused to explain to me why she just to leave,” Benedict explained, all while Agatha only seemed to be growing more and more at her wit’s end listening to his excuses. Her face morphing to furious disbelief as she listened to him, until finally. She lost it. 

“She has a son you fatwit!” she finally snapped at him, yelling now.

Benedict blinked, taken aback. “She what?”

But Agatha only sighed, moving a hand to pinching the bridge of her nose as she muttered. “I should not be telling you this,” before letting out another sigh and looking up at him, fury still lacing through her sharp features. “Ms. Baek is a single mother. Of a very lovely, little boy named Charles. A boy whose birthday is today.”

It felt as if the floor had just given out under him. Benedict was surprised he hadn’t collapsed there and then. 

“What?” he asked, weakly. 

Sophie was a mother? In the time he’d known her she’d never once let on that she had a child. Yes, she was kind and patient, carrying noticeable maternal instincts, but she seemed almost too young to be a mother in his mind. 

His brain was struggling to accept this information, knowing full well it would only cause him more guilt once it did. 

But it was starting to make sense. 

I have someone at home I need to get back to.

Please, Benedict, I have plans tonight. I can’t miss them.

I’m sorry baby. I’ll make it up to you. I promise. 

And it wasn’t a romantic partner she’d been talking about, been speaking on the phone with. She was speaking to her child. Telling her child she wasn’t going to make it to their birthday celebration. 

“There is no father in the picture from what I understand, so Sophie works incredibly hard to be there for him,” Agatha continued. “So, you can imagine my surprise when I found her still here after giving her permission to leave early to go celebrate.” 

Benedict could feel his stomach twisting further. The realization of what he had done to Sophie in a fit of jealousy. By thinking she was going out with someone else, on a date. He’d made her miss her own son’s birthday. 

And there wasn’t even a father to be present in her stead. That little boy already had to celebrate each year without one parent and he’d just forced the other one to not be there as well. He knew exactly what it was like to celebrate one's birthday without a parent, and he had just forced an innocent child to experience the same. 

There were countless birthdays his father had missed, and would miss, since his unexpected death when Benedict was only seventeen. It wasn’t just his birthdays that would be missed, but his siblings too. Hell, Hyacinth had never had a single birthday with their father present and Gregory couldn’t even remember the only two his father had been present for. 

Benedict remembered his own birthday after their father’s passing well. Only a few months after, and the first one since their father died. A pitiful affair, his siblings and mother had all still been too caught up in their grief to try and force themselves to celebrate (Benedict included). 

He’d tried though, tried to make it a happy occasion, for the sake of his siblings more than himself. Hoping that maybe it would draw his mother out of her almost catatonic grief, but it had only set her off into another bout of depressed sobs before she locked herself in her room for the rest of the day. Leaving him to manage six siblings all under the age of 15 and one being a baby, while Anthony had been away taking summer classes so he could graduate early. 

It was his fault. He’d pushed his mother too hard and too soon, forgetting he looked the most like his father out of his brothers. It had been a tough period for him and his mother as a result. All he wanted to do was comfort her but the mere sight of him set her off. It was the only time he and his mother went months without saying a word to one another because he’d feared that if she saw him she would close in again and go back to hiding away in her room.

She had apologized, years later when the grief didn’t consume her as easily as it once had. When she was finally able to talk about it. When she’d realized how much the rest of them had struggled too. She’d felt terrible for putting that on him. Still did, even though Benedict had long forgiven her. 

And since then, his mother had worked extra hard at making sure they all felt loved and celebrated on their birthdays. Benedict had no idea what it would have been like if his mother couldn’t be there. If he’d been an only child. He had no doubt someone as kind and as caring as Sophie wouldn’t bend over backwards to make sure her child always felt loved and cherished on their special day.

And he’d ruined it.

“Those files could have been typed up in the morning,” Agatha continued. “There was no need to keep her here save your own spitefulness.” 

“I wasn’t–” he started to argue but Agatha held up a hand, silencing him.

“I do not know what Ms. Baek has done to offend you, but you will cease your harrassment of her immediately. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You following her around, bothering her when she’s working. Giving her tasks you could be giving your own secretary,” she ordered him sternly. “She is my assistant. Not yours. Do you understand?”

Benedict tried to find the words to defend himself, to argue, but found himself unable to speak. 

“Yes,” he finally replied, simply. Defeated.

“She doesn’t need to take orders from you. You may be a partner now, boy, but that doesn’t mean you have the authority to do as you please. I assumed your father had taught you better.” 

That stung, given the circumstances that had led to this, but he’d certainly earned it. 

“She never said anything,” Benedict said weakly. 

Agatha sighed, some of the rage seemed to be seeping from her shoulders. “Ms. Baek is a very private person. So private in fact, I’ve noticed she seems to struggle at times accepting help from others,” she let out another frustrated sigh. “I should not be telling you any of this, and I will need to apologize to her again tomorrow, however, I knew you would not understand the severity of what you have done unless you were aware of this.”

Benedict just stood there and took, knowing there was nothing else he could say or do to fix the situation. 

“Moving forward, if there are any problems with her work ethic or her capabilities, you may bring them to me directly , not go over my head and handle them yourself,” Agatha continued. “Do we understand one another?”

“Yes,” Benedict replied, forcing the words out. 

“Good. Then I suppose we can table this discussion for tomorrow,” Agatha told him, glancing down at her watch. She then waved through the glass for her chauffeur, who quickly stepped into the room and grabbed the handles of her wheelchair. “Now, if you excuse me. It’s late. And I have a dinner to get to.”

“What am I supposed to do now?” he asked her.

A dark brow rose on Agatha’s face like a guillotine about to be dropped on his head, as the anger spiked again. But Benedict wasn’t being rude. He’d spoken without thinking. His mind now elsewhere. The guilt now seeping into his bones and nerves. 

Frankly, he was just trying to figure out how to fix things with Sophie. To make it up to her.

But Agatha was in no mood to be merciful and try to help him. Only letting out a curt laugh, mouth twisting sourly as she shook her head. “You memorized those pages a long time ago. I think you are more than capable of managing this task on your own. And if you were fine with wasting your evening working on them, well, I suppose I’ll leave you to it. Good evening, Benedict.” 

And with that, she turned and left. The door to the conference room slamming shut behind her. 

And Benedict was left with nothing but his guilt as company. 

Chapter Text

| Months Prior: Summer |

“Infernal, bloody remote.”

Sophie cringed quietly as she watched the older woman laying in the bed next to her, growing increasingly concerned as she watched her mutter furiously to herself, jabbing at the soft, rubbery buttons of the old remote in her hand, her arm outstretched in front of her.  She was hitting the buttons hard enough Sophie momentarily thought the device might just explode into a thousand pieces.

And she was pretty sure if she let her continue to do so, she was going to break it. Or something else. 

But Sophie wasn’t feeling entirely up to spending time helping her, her body aching with fatigue and weighed down after everything she’d been through with Charles the night before. She’d barely slept. But, Sophie was also pretty sure if she fixed the issue, the woman would stop complaining and the room would return to a state of endurable silence. 

“Bloody buttons,” the woman continued muttering.

They weren’t even supposed to be sharing the room. 

They weren’t even supposed to be sharing this room with her. Charles was supposed to be in the children’s ward, but the doctors had told her they were waiting for a space to open up before they moved him. Now they were stuck with the crankiest elderly woman Sophie had ever met. Sophie had already watched her yell at three interns and a resident about her treatment plan and their handling of the hospital. She was grateful the woman had yet to turn her anger on her.

Yet .

“Here, let me,” Sophie offered, finally, rising from her seat and coming over to the woman’s bedside. She held out her hand to take the remote. Maybe if she was helpful, and provided a solution, the woman wouldn't later turn her ire onto Sophie and Charles. 

But the older woman gave her a sour look, one that suggested she didn’t particularly believe Sophie could help nor that she wanted it to begin with. Still, she placed the remote into her waiting hand before laying back in the bed. Patiently waiting for Sophie to fail as she had. 

Fiddling with it for a moment, Sophie was luckily able to press the buttons at the right angle that the TV hanging in the corner of the room began flipping channels. She clicked between them until the woman told her to stop, which was when she saw an episode of Casualty playing on the screen. Then Sophie handed the remote back to her.

“You seem to understand these televisions better than I do. Shocking given I’m certain these machines are older then me,” the woman then told her as she placed the remote on the small side table next to her.

“Oh, it’s just an insider secret,” Sophie told her, politely, trying to make a joke. “You figure out how to use them when you spend enough time working with them.”

“You’re a nurse?” 

She shook her head. “No. I um…I had some bleeding during my pregnancy and my doctor had me admitted for observation. I was here for a few weeks before I had my son.”

Sophie nodded over to Charles, quietly sleeping on the bed behind them, as she spoke. She spared another glance at him, checking to make sure he was still breathing even though the machine next to his bed was still steadily beeping, confirming he was. Her son’s small chest rose and fell with every soft breath he took. He still looked as peaceful as ever. 

“That sounds rather terrifying,” the woman remarked calmly.

“Oh, I was fine really. And my son was perfectly healthy when he was born,” Sophie told her, motioning again towards the sleeping Charles behind her. 

“What’s his name?” the woman inquired politely.

“Charles. But we all call him Charlie,” Sophie replied, before quickly adding. “And I’m Sophie.”

“I suppose,” the woman then said. “If we are to share a room we might as well get the introductions out of the way.” She then held her hand towards her. “Agatha Danbury.”

“Sophie Baek,” Sophie returned, taking her hand and giving it a shake.

“And what do they have you in here for?” Agatha asked, looking her up and down.

“Oh! Um…sepsis. My son…” Sophie told her, glancing back to check on Charles again. He was still snoozing quietly, oblivious to the world.  

“That’s a rather serious matter.”

She nodded. “Thankfully, they caught it early. I thought he just had strep throat but it wouldn’t go away,” Sophie said, feeling the knot in her stomach tighten. Recalling the past few weeks. The signs she’d missed that something was wrong.  “They said it looked like infection had gone into his bloodstream, so he’s hooked up to antibiotics at the moment. Charlie wasn’t particularly happy about that.”

Her son had spent the time it took for the nurse to place all the IVs in his elbow and hand screaming bloody murder, wriggling about like a panicked fish gasping for air on dry land, all while Sophie desperately held onto him and tried to sooth him. Even after it was over, Charles had cried for a good hour, moaning to her that he wanted to go home, that he didn’t feel good. Telling her didn’t want to stay in the hospital any longer. He wanted to go home to Nana and Pop-pop. To lie in her bed with her and watch cartoons like he usually did when he was sick. He’d cried until he’d finally tired himself out and fallen asleep. 

Leaving her emotionally and physically drained.

“Well, if I had to get jabbed with a bunch of needles by strangers when I felt poorly, I probably wouldn’t be all that happy either,” Agatha remarked. 

“I should have taken him here sooner,” Sophie commented, sniffling. She quickly wiped away the tears forming in her eyes. “Sorry.”

“You look tired dear. Have you slept?” Agatha asked gently. “You’re not dealing with all of this on your own are you?”

“Oh no,” Sophie quickly assured. “My godparents are coming once they finish work.”

“And what about the boy’s father?”

“He’s…um…he’s not really in the picture,” Sophie quickly said, trying not to cringe awkwardly as she spoke. 

“Ah…my apologies,” Agatha returned politely, realizing her error. 

“It’s fine.”

“Well, don’t blame yourself for him getting sick. Children are nothing more than walking petri dishes. Little bodies of saliva and snot,” Agatha told her flatly, making a face of disgust. “All they do is make noise and spread diseases.”

“Do you have any children?” Sophie asked delicately.

“Four. And they all infuriate me,” Agatha replied bluntly. 

Sophie blinked. Well. That explained a lot. 

“They all did me the favor of marrying and moving as far from me as possible. After a lifetime of making things difficult for me,” Agatha continued before a small, proud smile formed on her lips. “My godson however is wonderful, even gave me three adorable little girls to spoil. And so are my grandsons. One is about to finish at Oxford and the other is set to take his A Levels soon.” 

“That’s…wonderful,” Sophie commented politely. Unsure if she should. 

“It is yes,” Agatha replied, pleased. Her hands rested delicately over her stomach. 

“Might I ask what happened to you?” Sophie asked and Agatha scoffed.

“Ah, this?” she asked, waving a hand over her body. “I fell that’s all. I missed the bottom step by an inch and suddenly it's as if London Bridge is falling,” Agatha then huffed, looking annoyed. “I was fine really, but my grandson was home and he got all flustered and worried so he called emergency services before I could do anything. And then Simon – my godson – found out and he demanded I go with the paramedics and get checked out.”

Sophie raised a brow, unable to ignore how Agatha was currently laying in the hospital bed with her left leg propped up and in a brace. Her arm in a temporary sling. Not to mention the large, dark bruise she had on her cheekbone. 

And Agatha let out another rather annoyed sigh as she realized Sophie had seen through her tall tale. “Alright, alright, so maybe it wasn’t the bottom step I slipped on. Still, everyone is making far too much fuss over it. I may be old, but I’m not decrepit. I won't turn to a pile of dust because of a fall.” 

“Well, it’s probably just because they care,” Sophie told her.

Agatha only raised a rounded brow at that, giving her a look that suggested she didn’t believe a word of what Sophie had just said, before waving a hand dismissively. Moving on. 

They ended up conversing for the next hour, getting to know one another. Well, mainly Agatha, who Sophie let carry the conversation along. Listening as the older woman told her about her life and career, all the traveling she’d done and the cases she’d argued as a solicitor. She’d even started her own firm. 

It was nice, just listening. And it kept Sophie distracted. 

“But enough about me, what about you?” Agatha finally asked. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a temp,” Sophie said before stopping, remembering that wasn’t really the case any more. She frowned slightly. “Well, I was a temp.” 

She’d lost her job that morning, when she’d stayed with Charles in the hospital instead of reporting to her new temporary job. Sophie hadn’t been too surprised though, her employer had been looking for an excuse to fire her ever since Sophie had refused to get drinks with him outside of work. Her past refusal to obey him, and now prioritizing her son over her job, had led to her swift firing.

Marilla and Thomas had already given her shifts to work at the cafe so she could make something in the meantime, but Sophie didn’t want to take even more from them. Elizabeth had promised to notify her the moment a substitute was needed at the school she worked at, but Sophie needed to find something solid and long term. Figure out a way to take care of herself and Charles on her own. 

“Well, you seem like a bright young woman. I’m sure you’ll get back on your feet quickly enough,” Agatha remarked. 

Sophie let out an awkward laugh. “Well, I’ve found most people aren’t really interested in hiring a university dropout.”

“Ah…” Agatha commented, understanding. “Was it due to–?”

Sophie nodded. “I had Charles during my final year. I planned to go back and finish but…babies keep you rather busy,” she told her with a small shrug.

“That I know,” Agatha hummed in agreement. “I will commend you though. Doing all that on your own. It’s no easy feat. A dear friend of mine was left with an entire army of children after her husband passed. I still struggle to figure out how she managed it all sometimes, and trust me when I say her children certainly pushed her to the limit as often as they could. Drama queens. All of them.” 

“Well, my godparents have done a lot for me these past few years,” Sophie told her.

“No parents?”

“Orphaned. My mother died when I was little and then my father passed when I was in secondary school,” Sophie explained, beginning to fiddle nervously with her fingers, picking at a hangnail on her index finger. 

Agatha hummed, thinking something over for a second.

“Do you mind if I ask you a few more questions?” she then asked.

Sophie shook her head. “Not at all. Ask away.”

“Before you dropped out, what were you studying?”

“Accounting.”

“And you’ve had office experience?”

“Yes. I’ve usually covered secretaries and receptionists. Worked in a lot of different offices over the years.” 

“Are you a team-player?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good under stress?”

She nodded quickly.

“Well, you definitely seem intelligent enough,” Agatha said, although it sounded like she was speaking to herself.

“I was top of my class in school,” Sophie added quickly. 

But Agatha merely hummed again, lips pursed this time and eyes narrowed as she studied her intently. It was rather unnerving. And incredibly intimidating. 

“It appears,” she then announced. “That I may be able to assist you on the matter of your lack of employment.”

Sophie blinked. “Sorry?”

“My dear assistant is retiring this summer and, since I have no interest in leaving the work sector anytime soon, I’m in need of a new one.”  

“Oh!” Then Sophie frowned, still confused. What was happening?

“Does eighty thousand sound fair? It’s the best I’ll be able to offer you at the moment.”

“Oh! Um…that should be–”

“You’ll get twenty-eight days paid time off and we have a wonderful workplace pension in place, however there will be days you will have to work after hours and on some holidays,” Agatha explained, continuing on. “There is a primary school nearby to the office that operates till seven pm. Many of our working parents send their children there, and I’m welcome to put a word in if you need, but you will be on your own for childcare if a matter arises on the weekends. I’ll do what I can to give you a heads up when things get busy, but I can’t make any promises.”

Was Agatha…offering her a job? After only just meeting her?

“My godparents usually watch him when I’m working late,” Sophie quickly assured, still surprised by what was happening. 

“Well, I have no issue with you bringing your son to the office– if needed. And as long as he behaves. My godson likes to shove his daughters on me for free babysitting every once in a while.”

Sophie nodded along, unable to speak. She had no idea what to say. No idea what was really happening. It was all happening so quickly, but she knew she couldn’t refuse it. So she just listened, nodding along as Agatha ran her through the basics of the job and what she’d need to send her so she could get the hiring started. 

“So, any questions?”

“Um…no. I don’t think so.”

“Good.” Agatha then smiled up at her. “When can you start?” 

| Present Day |

If Sophie thought Thursday night had been a disaster, she had been wrong.

Agatha had told Benedict.

Agatha had told Benedict about Charlie . 

Her boss had pulled her into her office the moment she arrived Friday morning to apologize. Telling her she hadn’t meant to discuss her personal life without her present.

“Things got a little heated between myself and Benedict,” Agatha explained with a sigh. “But it’s no excuse. I know you value your privacy, Sophie, so I wanted to apologize to you. I doubt Benedict will run off and tell anyone, but I’ll make sure he doesn’t if you need.”

But Sophie only blinked, trying to find the words. Technically, there was no harm really done. Kate knew about Charles and most of the office still seemed unaware that Sophie was a single mother. But Benedict was now aware she had a child, aware of Charles’ existence, even if he didn’t know that child was his. 

And that was another matter too. Charles. God, she still had no idea how she was going to make it up to him.

Charles had been incensed when she arrived home that night. Indignant. Appalled. Aggrieved.

Fat, watery tears rolled down his cheeks as he went back and forth between betrayal and heartbreak, glaring up at her furiously when he confronted her in the front hallway seconds after Sophie finally arrived home, hands on his hips like an disappointed parent, before his face shifted to one of pain and he started crying again. As if it pained him too much being upset with her, even while he was hurting. His face red and splotchy from crying for God knows how long, his shirt wet from tears and snot. He hadn’t even changed into his pajamas, refusing to do so until Sophie arrived. 

It had taken every bit of willpower Sophie had not to collapse to her knees and cry with him. 

“You promised,” he’d cried, rubbing his watery eyes with his hands, weakly trying to shake her off as Sophie tried to comfort him. Tried to hold him. “You promised you’d be here.”  

“I know, baby. I know,” she told him, grabbing a hold of him finally and pulling him into her arms. Charles began crying loudly again as she drew him into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, Charles. It will never happen again. I promise.” 

Marilla had told her that Neddy and his grandmother, Mary, had helped with trying to keep Charles happy while they’d waited for her to arrive home. Neddy, apparently distressed to see his friend so upset, tried to keep him distracted by showing him some magic tricks he learned and telling him funny stories. Her own grandchildren, a little older than the two, had also tried to keep Charles busy, singing songs and telling jokes while Charles oscillated from full blown wails to whimpering sniffles. 

But they’d all finally had to depart as well, once the party was truly over and it was evident Sophie would be arriving home later that evening. Sophie was going to have to thank Kate for that the next time she saw her. And Elizabeth, the Crabtree’s daughter, for raising a pair of lovely girls. 

She’d then slept with Charles in her bed that night, as an apology, once she’d gotten him changed and ready for bed. Keeping her son’s little body pressed against hers as she held him close. Rubbing her hand soothingly over his back and pressing soft, little kisses on the top of his head, even after her son had long since fallen asleep. 

Sophie hadn’t wanted to leave him that morning. Going back and forth the night before about whether or not to call in sick, before deciding to go. Maybe she’d just go for the morning and then ask Agatha to leave early. 

Which had led to her standing, frozen in place, in the middle of Agatha’s office as her boss gently informed her of what had happened after she’d left the office last night. Agatha had called her in to speak with her privately the moment she had arrived in the office. Frankly, surprised to see her. 

“Oh…okay.” She finally got out. Weakly. 

“Again, I truly did not mean to discuss your private life without your knowledge and for that I am sorry,” Agatha told her. “And in all honesty, I don’t mind if you want to take the day off.”

“I really don’t mind–” Sophie started.

But Agatha cut her off, shaking her head. “I approved you to take a PTO and you have yet to use it, so please. Go home and be with your son.”

“Um…” There was no point arguing. Agatha had just given her exactly what she wanted. “Thank you,” she told her finally.

Agatha nodded. “Take care, Sophie. And have a good weekend.” 

Giving her thanks again, silently praising Agatha for being possibly the best boss Sophie had ever had in her life, Sophie then made her way out of the office space and to her desk. Grabbing only what she needed, Sophie quickly packed the items into her bag before getting it over her shoulder and heading out. 

“Sophie!” a voice called out suddenly. 

It was Kate, appearing around the corner, looking around as though she’d been scanning for someone. Kate’s shoulders relaxed the moment she saw her, seeming relieved. She was dressed in her usual black pantsuit, the blouse underneath her a blazer a pale almost lilac color, while her dark hair was braided neatly over her shoulder.

And she gave a gentle smile when she saw Sophie. “There you are.”

“Oh, Kate. Hey,” Sophie replied, trying to keep up the nonchalant facade she’d been putting on since she arrived at the office. Acting as though everything was fine.

“I heard what happened,” Kate told her before she could say another word, pulling her into a quick hug. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes,” Sophie replied, nodding quickly. Finding herself a little taken aback. It seemed like news traveled fast. 

“I cannot believe him. That idiot,” Kate said, continuing, shaking her head in disbelief. She sounded furious. “I cannot believe he did that to you.”

“It’s fine, really,” Sophie assured her. 

As upset she was with Benedict, she’d never been one for causing a scene. Or drama. Her life had already given her enough of that. And she wasn’t going to drag that into her professional life as well. 

“Thank you for last night, truly. Marilla told me what Neddy did for Charlie,” she added. “And please, please tell Mary thank you as well, and that I’m sorry I wasn’t able to meet her.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Trust me when I say Mary is as much in your corner over this as I am. Neddy was in a state over it when he got home,” Kate told her with a small chuckle. “He’s such a worrywart sometimes. Gets it from his father.”

“I’m really glad Charlie has a friend like him,” Sophie informed her. 

“And I’m glad Neddy’s got Charlie as a friend. You have no idea how good of an influence he’s been.”

Sophie smiled at her, relieved, but the exhaustion was slowly creeping back up on her again. She tried to rub the sleep from her eyes, not wanting to be rude, but she could feel her body slowly begin to check out. She could only sign, unsure what else to say and frankly, too exhausted to speak further. 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Kate asked, worriedly, her hands gently rubbing Sophie’s arms up and down. 

Sophie shook her head. “Not really.” 

“How bout this, Neddy and I will meet you for dinner and then we’ll take Charlie back to my place for a sleepover?” Kate offered. “Give you the evening to recover? Tell him it's a belated birthday gift. We can probably even make it a little celebration too.”

As much as Sophie wanted to decline, worried Charles might not even want to go on a sleepover after yesterday, she couldn’t deny needing some time of her own to think. To think over everything that had happened. 

“You really don’t need to do this,” Sophie told her, simply. 

“Oh, don’t even mention it. They’ll have loads of fun,” Kate told her with a wave of the hand. “And I’m sorry about Benedict. Truly. He can be an oblivious ass sometimes. If he gives you any more problems, you tell me alright?”

“I will. I promise.”

“Are you heading out?” Kate asked, finally noticing that Sophie had her coat on and her shoulder bag. 

Sophie nodded. “Agatha told me to go home. She’s giving me the day.”

“Let me walk you out then,” Kate told her. “You go home and relax. I’ll text you later,” Kate told her, linking her arm with hers. 

Sophie gave her a small smile, letting Kate lead her on to the elevator. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d had a friendship like this, and early on. But as the days had gone on and they’d gotten to know each other, she and Kate had quickly become friends. Finding they’d had a lot in common. 

As they rounded the corner, Sophie hoped she could just slip out of the building and back home without any further issues. She came face to face with Benedict instead.

Sophie paused, stopping in her steps. As did he. And Kate too. Sophie glanced up at him, catching his light colored eyes and seeing the surprised look come over his face. Noticing he looked as exhausted as she felt. Next to her, Kate frowned.

“Sophie, can I–” he started.

But she ignored him. Simply walked past him without saying a word, keeping her head held high as she headed towards the elevators, Kate following close behind. But behind them, she heard footsteps, the sounds of Benedict following her. 

Those fucking legs –

“Listen, can we just talk?” Benedict asked, pleading as he caught up to them. 

“About what?” Sophie shot back. “There is nothing else to say.”

“Sophie, I’m sorry,” Benedict told her. “I-I didn’t know.” 

“No, you didn’t know. You just didn’t care,” Sophie snapped, trying to speed up her steps, dragging Kate along. 

“Sophie–” Benedict started again, but when he stepped near her, Kate let her arm slip from Sophie’s and turned.

She stepped in front of him. Blocking him. When he tried to get around her, Kate just stepped in front of him again. 

Then he sighed, exasperated. “Kate!”

“Oh, don’t ‘Kate’ me, Benedict Bridgerton,” Sophie heard her colleague snap as she got to the elevator, pressing the button to bring it up. “After what you did.”

“I’m trying to apologize,” Benedict hissed quietly at her. "I told you I w-"

“No. You leave her alone,” Kate shot back at him, before calling out over her shoulder. “I’ll text you later, Sophie.”

Sophie nodded back quickly, focusing on the back of Kate’s head instead of looking over at Benedict. As the elevator doors opened and she slipped in, still hearing Kate berating Benedict as the doors slowly closed behind her. A sigh of relief escaping from her, her shoulders sagging. She practically collapsed back against the inside of the elevator, relaxing against the wall as the elevator began descending down. 

She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take.

Chapter Text

Initially, she’d taken the sunshine as a good sign. That everything was finally on the up. 

Saturday morning had been an unexpectedly warm day, with the sun shining brightly down on the city, and Sophie as she went to the Sharma’s house to pick up Charles. Kate had texted her the address the night before while they’d been at dinner. A property up in Notting Hill. 

Dinner the night before had been a blessed reprieve. A second chance for Sophie to make it up to Charles, who’d been delighted to spend the evening with Sophie and his best friend. Even Miles came, happily sitting in a high chair next to his mother and gumming some cheerios while they ate. 

And it appeared Charles had forgiven her quickly, happily agreeing to depart the restaurant with Kate and Neddy after Sophie told him about the sleepover. One big hug and a peck on the cheek, before he headed up with the Sharmas for the night, the plan being for Sophie to pick him up in the morning so they could do brunch with the Crabtrees.

Rows of matching brown brick homes with black, iron fences wrapped around the front surrounded her. Sophie made her way down the road, until she came to number 16. One which had a gorgeous garden planted in the front. Well maintained even as the cold weather began to slowly seep into the city, the garden in front of Kate’s house was bursting with color.

Once she was at the top of the short staircase leading to the front door, she rang the doorbell and stepped back, scanning the front garden again to look over the beautiful flowers planted in the front of the house. She hadn’t thought much of how the morning would go when she woke up. When she turned and looked back at the door, her eyes widening as Sophie spotted a golden name embellishing over the mail slot. Two names.

She frowned.

Bridgerton-Sharma.

“What on earth?” Sophie quietly said out loud as the door opened.

She glanced over, expecting to see Kate. Expecting to be able to ask her to clarify the name on the mailbox, only it wasn’t Kate standing behind the door. But someone else.

Someone Sophie immediately recognized. 

Anthony Bridgerton. Benedict’s older brother. A man she hadn’t seen in years. Six years to be specific. Not since that day in Benedict’s apartment. 

Sophie blinked, dumbfounded. Something Anthony only mirrored to her when he saw her. He gave her the exact same reaction when he recognized her. 

And neither one of them knew what to say. They both just stood there, equally surprised to see one another in stunned silence. Anthony frowned, trying to figure out why she was standing at his doorstep, while Sophie struggled to understand why he was in Kate’s house. 

Why would he be here? He wasn’t supposed to be in the office until Monday. She thought she still had time. Time to figure out how to deal with him. He couldn’t be–

Oh!

Oh God no. 

| Six Years Ago |

The worst day of Anthony’s life was the day his father died.

The second worst day of his life was when his younger brother nearly died. 

The day it happened, he’d been going through his normal routine; arguing with Kathani Sharma over whatever the hell it was she’d decided to blame him for today. Usually, it was his handling of their joint cases, or his attitude, or how he’d accidentally gone on a blind date with her sister Edwina, or anything really that she decided in that moment infuriated him. As long as he was the one doing it. 

And all of it had been recently made worse by a drunken one night stand they’d had. 

One drunken night together had left Kate even angrier with him for some reason. While Anthony was still struggling to process the confirmation of his feelings for her and his growing affection and desire ever since. Each time he tried to though, she’d shut down. Yelling about something he’d done instead of admitting that she liked him as much as he liked her. And he knew she liked him. The makeout session in the supply closet she’d suddenly sprung on him one morning had confirmed that, yet she refused to discuss it with him.

It was infuriating. 

And the entire time they’d been loudly arguing that morning, his cellphone had been consistently vibrating from incoming calls, all from the same number, until Kate had finally snapped at him to just answer his damn phone already and leave her be. 

The moment he had though, the moment he answered and learned what had happened, all the anger inside of him evaporated.

Mr. Bridgerton, I’m calling from Royal London Hospital– 

A lot of emotions had rushed through him at that moment. Dread. Fear. Anxiety. A constant echoing of no, no, no as his mind tried to process the news. The initial panic of not knowing who it was in his family that had gotten hurt now, and trying to figure out which one. His mind flashing back to over a decade before, standing in the front hall of his childhood home while the paramedic gently explained to him that at this point there were no signs of life and they were going to stop the resuscitations. That his father had unfortunately passed away from, of all things, a simple bee sting. All while his younger siblings sat, sullen and silent in the front room trying to comfort one another. His mother’s wails rang out from down the hall. Benedict sitting in shock behind him on the front steps with his head in his hands.

It’s about your brother–

Benedict. The same brother who had only taken a minute to process his own grief the day their father died, before rushing to their mother’s side and comforting her, then moving on to their siblings once she was upstairs and in bed, being watched over by their elderly neighbor Mrs. Wilson, who’d rushed over when she saw the ambulance parked outside. 

The one brother Anthony had always thought he didn’t need to worry about. The one brother who was probably the liveliest and friendliest of his siblings, and he’d been struck by a car while going through his morning routine. Heading to his own car to make his way over to the office. He’d told Anthony the night before that he was going to need to take the morning off due to a last minute appointment. 

He listed you as his emergency contact–

It would turn out, after Anthony arrived at the hospital and found two officers waiting to speak with him, that they were labeling it a hit and run. That it had looked to be a purposeful and targeted attack. Based on the cameras in the parking lot (the ones they found to be working), it was evident the car had sped up when it saw Benedict walking across the lot. 

Anthony didn’t even think it possible for Benedict to have enemies. Everyone loved his brother. 

Please, get here as soon as you can.

Kate had driven him. The moment she’d seen his face change from rage to shocked disbelief and fear, her own anger had quickly disappeared, turning to that of genuine concern. And once she’d gotten it out from him what had happened, she refused to let him drive himself to the hospital in the state he was in. Which worked out in his favor as it let him focus on calling his relatives instead of speeding through London at a breakneck speed and risking his own life in the process.

He’d called Colin first, since he was back in London and his apartment was only a block away from their family home. Someone was going to need to drive their mother to the hospital. Someone needed to be with their mother when he called her. And after he called Colin, who told him he’d text him when he was at the house, Anthony called Daphne, knowing she could get his sisters notified and organized. 

His mother took it as well as he’d thought she’d take it. Descending into panicked, worried hysterics in a matter of seconds. Anthony was bombarded with a barrage of what ifs and questions, none of which he had an answer to. All he could tell his mother was that he was going to the hospital and he would meet her there. That Colin would drive her and that he already called Aunt Billie and Uncle George on his way so they could pick up Hyacinth and Gregory from school. 

Once he’d arrived at the hospital there was no moment Anthony got to be able to breath. 

He was quickly brought back to the emergency room, to where the paramedics had wheeled his brother in and the nurses were busy tending to him. While Kate told him she’d wait in the parking lot for his family. And Anthony was finally able to get a look at his brother. To assess the damage. 

“Jesus,” he breathed out, shocked, when he finally spotted Benedict. 

His brother looked, for all intensive purposes, wrecked. Covered in blood and dirt, scratches, cuts and nasty grazes over any exposed skin. A clear oxygen mask covering his mouth, fogging up every time he let out a breath. And there was a bright yellow and blue neck brace keeping his head from moving as he lay on the gurney. 

And there was blood. A lot of blood. Rubbed over his skin and clothes. It looked to be everywhere. Anthony swallowed down his nerves at the sight of a large circular cut right above his brother’s brow, oozing blood down his face and back over his scalp. He felt his stomach drop to his feet as he studied his brother’s pale, unconscious form. 

He was halfway cut out of his suit too. The nicely tailored, navy suit pants had been sliced open by the nurses trying to assess the damage to his legs, one which looked very broken in Anthony’s opinion. And they were currently cutting off the matching jacket and dress shirt, revealing a bruised chest underneath with smears of blood and dirt over it. 

Benedict looked, frankly, like he’d been in a car wreck. 

“Are you family?” one of the staff members, a doctor Anthony quickly realized, hastily asked after spotting him, all while continuing to run around and tend to Benedict’s prone form.

“Um…y-yes. Yes,” Anthony quickly replied, swallowing, unable to take his eyes off Benedict. “I’m his brother. Anthony. How bad is it?” 

“He’s got a broken leg and probable head trauma, but we’re also concerned about internal bleeding. We’re prepping him for surgery now,” the doctor told him, before rushing off. 

“Are there any medical issues we should know about?” one of the nurses, an older woman with dark leathery skin, asked him gently. 

“Um…he had his appendix removed when he was 12 and um…he’s allergic to bees. M-my dad died of one,” Anthony told her, rambling. Was he going into shock? He might be going into shock. Was that possible in this situation? “I-I don’t know if that’s useful right now.”

But the nurse gave him a sympathetic look, gently resting her hand comfortingly on his arm. “Don’t worry. Anything you know will be of tremendous help to us. Do you know if he has any other allergies? If he’s taking medication?” 

Anthony shook his head. “No. Not that he told me. Mum might know, but she’s on her way.”

“Why don’t we get you settled in the family room while you wait for her to arrive?” the older nurse suggested.

“No. No, I’m not–” Anthony started to argue. Refusing to leave his brother. 

Then there was a moan. From the gurney. 

Anthony’s head snapped over towards his brother. Next to him, one of the nurses, a young blonde with her hair tied up in a pony, leaned down over his brother and asked. “Mr. Bridgerton?”

Beneath her, Benedict moaned. Louder this time. His face slowly twisted into a grimace. He was waking up. His mouth moving under the mask, words muffled by the plastic. 

“Mr. Bridgerton?” the nurse asked gently, carefully lifting up the mask over his brother’s mouth. “Would you like to try speaking again?”

“Stop…” Benedict moaned.

“Mr. Bridgerton, can you hear me?” the nurse tried again and Benedict moaned once more. 

He was trying to move, even with his head stabilized in a neck brace. Even with his injuries, the blood staining through his dress shirt and suit, he was trying to move and sit up, his arms limply flailing about. All while the nurses desperately pushed against him, trying to keep him flat on the gurney. 

“Need to go,” he was muttering. “Have…appointment. Need to–”

“Mr. Bridgerton, please relax,” the nurse gently instructed, trying to push him to lay flat on the gurney but Benedict wasn’t having any of it.

“No!” he shouted at her now, moving more now despite his injuries. The nurse called out for help, leading to a few more people rushing over. 

“Have…to. Appointment. Bab–She can’t…needs to go. Doc–Needs me,” Benedict was muttering slowly, voice slurring as he spoke it was almost undecipherable as he grimaced and moaned in pain.

Alarms were going off as the machines started screaming from Benedict knocking the wires and IVs off with his movements. An army of nurses was now surrounding him, all barking orders at him and each other as they tried to make sure he didn’t injure himself further. 

And seeing his brother in distress, Anthony instinctually surged forward. 

“Ben– Benedict!” Anthony called out over the noise, slipping into a gap between the nurses and doctors, where he carefully grabbed his little brother’s hand. The only thing that didn’t look broken or covered in blood. “Hey, Benedict. Ben? Can you hear me?”

Benedict frowned at the noise, but his eyes remained closed like he didn’t know how to use them. “Anth?” he slurred.

“Hey man. Yeah, it’s me,” Anthony assured, rubbing a thumb over the hand he was clutching. 

“Wha’ happened?” 

“You were in an accident. You’re at the hospital,” Anthony explained, squeezing his hand before quickly stopping himself, worried he might be squeezing a broken bone. “Mum’s on her way.”

“Mum? Tell her um fine,” Benedict mumbled back, slowly relaxing. “Don wan her worrying.”

“Tell her yourself,” he replied, breathing out a relieved laugh. “Pretty sure she’s going to storm in here any second now and start barking orders like a three star general. She’s going to make sure you get the best care possible.”

Benedict gave a weak smile back. And with his brother finally no longer fighting them, the nurses quickly got to work making sure his IVs were still in and continuing to prep him for surgery, buzzing around Anthony as he kept his brother calm. 

“Anth?” Benedict called out again and Anthony quickly turned his attention back to him.

“Yeah.”

“Need to talk to you,” Benedict said, grimacing, before taking a deep breath. His eyes finally opened. “Need to talk to you about–” He took another deep breath, trying to breathe through the pain. “Is important.” 

“We’ll talk after your surgery,” Anthony told him gently. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

“No, you gotta…” Benedict’s voice was slurring worse now. His eyelids fluttering. The drugs the nurse had injected into him slowly leeching his remaining consciousness from him. “Appointment. Need you to go to appointment.”

Anthony frowned. “What appointment?”

“Appointment. Go to…soap…” Benedict was slowly losing consciousness. Only able to get two final words out to him before he slipped away. “Soap waiting.”

Anthony’s frown deepened. He opened his mouth to ask his brother to clarify, but Benedict was already out. And with a few clicks and snaps, the gurney was suddenly moving and the medical staff was taking his broken body away, rushing him down the hall to surgery. Leaving Anthony behind in the wrecked medical bay. The fear of the unknown taking hold again.

“Please don’t die. Please don’t die,” Anthony had muttered to himself, eyes trained on the doorway his brother had disappeared past. He couldn’t move. His body was frozen in place. 

The older nurse came over again, saying something to him only Anthony couldn’t hear anything. Just muffled sounds. But the nurse was able to lead him out of the emergency bay and into a small, quiet room, saying something to him about getting him some water and promising to bring his family to the room when they arrived before slipping out. Leaving him alone in the room. 

So Anthony sat, with his head in his hands, staring at the blue carpeted ground beneath him as he felt like his entire world was falling apart again, like the ground was going to open up and swallow him whole, until he felt a hand rest on his back.

Snapping up, he found Kate sitting next to him. Her eyes were filled with concern and worry. She opened her mouth to say something before snapping it shut again, hesitating momentarily. 

“Hey,” she finally said, voice calmer and gentler than he’d ever heard. It didn’t feel right. “Your Mum’s not here yet. But there are two officers outside. They said they were at the scene and that they wanted to talk to you about what happened to Benedict.”

“Right,” Anthony commented, sniffling. He quickly ran a hand over his face, trying to pull himself back together. 

“You don’t need to speak with them right now,” Kate told him. “You can take a second.”

“It’s fine,” he told her, swiftly, moving out of her reach and going to stand. “No point just sitting here.”

“Is he okay?” Kate then asked. “Benedict.”

“I don’t know. They took him into surgery.”

“Anthony if you need to talk about this–” 

He just brushed her off. “I’m fine. I need to go speak with the police.” 

Anthony then spent what felt like a never ending hour speaking with the cops. Who were waiting to ask him if Benedict had any enemies, before explaining to him that they were classifying the case as an intentional hit and run. A possible robbery too as an empty ring box had been found next to his brother. All while his family members slowly began filtering in. One at a time. All in varying states of panic and fear. 

And then, he met Rosamund Li. 

The young woman who’d been in the parking garage when the accident happened. The officers had introduced them. She’d seen the car that had hit Benedict, caught the license plate that the only working camera in the lot hadn’t been able to get, then called 999 as it sped away and remained at his brother’s side until the ambulance arrived. 

“I didn’t want to leave until his family arrived,” she told him when he asked her why she was still in the hospital, dabbing her wet eyes with a tissue. “I didn’t want him to be alone.” 

The cops were pragmatic but hopeful that they’d be able to track down the perpetrator with the information Rosamund had given them, getting straight to work with locating the car and its driver. And for that Anthony was indebted to Miss Li. Once they left, as did Miss Li after some gentle reassurances, he was finally able to turn his attention back to his brother. To his family, all sitting wide eyed and panicked, some crying. 

Francesca and Daphne were both consoling Eloise in the stiff hospital chairs, arms around her and each other with Eloise crying between them. Anthony was pretty sure he’d never seen Eloise in such a state before, not since she was little. But he wasn’t surprised. Elosie was the closest with Benedict after him. 

Colin was pacing, a nervous tick. He was never good at staying still, especially when he was stressed. So he just kept pacing up and down the hall while they waited. Back and forth, until Eloise snapped at him to take a walk, and he disappeared for an hour, slipping away like a guilty dog with its tail between its legs. Returning back to the hospital, out of breath and sweaty with an alarmed looking Penelope behind him. Looking like he’d just run a mile. Which he had. Around and around the hospital. Until Penelope had spotted him while she was rushing in and dragged him back inside. 

Mercifully, Hyacinth and Gregory weren’t with them. His aunt and uncle had decided to take them home and keep them there, which Anthony agreed with. They didn’t need to see this. Didn’t need to see their mother.

She was practically catatonic. Something Anthony hadn’t seen from her since his father’s death. She sat perfectly still in her chair, back straight, her hands folded over her lap, and her pale eyes trained on a point in front of her as Kate silently sat next to her, asking her every few minutes if she needed anything, but his mother never answered. She didn’t say anything. Just sat quietly, waiting for the surgeon to return with either good or devastating news. 

Anthony did what he could to check on them all, to give comfort where he could, but emotional support had always been Benedict’s department. He’d always been better at it than Anthony. Always knew the right thing to say or do. Always knew when one of them was feeling down or blue. And Anthony was also getting inundated with phone calls and messages from worried friends who’d heard something had happened. 

Agatha had heard the news and reached out offering support, which Anthony quickly took. Begging her to make sure word didn’t get out about the accident. The last thing they needed was the press hounding them again. Hounding his mother. And Agatha didn’t hesitate to help. Getting to work notifying only the people who needed to know and pulling strings with whoever she could.

He was on and off the phone for the next few hours, mainly to his secretary to reschedule his appointments and meetings, but also to extended relatives and some of Benedict’s closest friends. He’d spent an hour letting his Uncle Nicholas, a surgeon, walk him through what was probably happening in the operating room and what to expect in the coming days. He supposed it was all a blessing in a way. It kept him distracted while they waited for an update on Benedict. An update that didn’t come until late in the afternoon, when the surgeon finally walked down the hall to meet with them.

“Mrs. Bridgerton,” he said to their mother, who had quickly risen from her seat to meet him. He stuck out his hand. “Dr. Quinn.”

“How is he?” their mother quickly asked, forgoing formalities. 

As the doctor spoke, they were all able to finally breathe a sigh of relief. Benedict had made it through the surgery and was currently being wheeled to the ICU to recover, but Dr. Quinn then told them there were still lingering concerns over his head injury. 

“We’ve repaired what we could, but we won’t know the full extent of his injuries until he wakes up,” he explained. 

“Can I see him?” their mother then asked.

“You can. But I’d like to limit visitations to one person at a time. Just until we move him to a more private room,” Dr. Quinn answered. 

Their mother quickly gathered her purse and coat, quickly gave the rest of them instructions to take care of themselves along with some hugs and the promises she’d update them about Benedict, before following the doctor and disappearing down the hall.

“Simon is going to meet us at Number 4,” Daphne said, sniffling. Simon had been in Bath at a conference, but had immediately left and raced back to London when he heard the news, now currently stuck in traffic on the M25.

“I’ll drive,” Colin said to their sisters. “Pen, you coming with us?”

Penelope nodded quickly, moving to grab her and Eloise’s stuff. There ended up being a small argument trying to convince Eloise to leave the hospital, but she finally relented after Daphne threatened to make her her next child’s godmother, and she left with the rest. Anthony told them he’d check on Mum before meeting them back at the house.

Leaving just him and Kate.

“You didn’t need to stay,” he told her, after a few seconds of awkward silence.

Kate only shrugged. “Benedict’s my friend. I wanted to make sure he was okay before I left.”

“If he’s your friend, what does that make us?” Anthony asked, tentatively, trying to lighten the mood.

“Begrudging co-workers,” was her quick reply. 

It was quick, and rude, but the tone Kate used was a mischievous one. She was teasing him. A small, sly smile tugged at her soft lips, making her cat-like eyes look sharper, and Anthony could only huff a laugh back, shaking his head. 

“Can we talk?” she then asked.

Anthony frowned, confused but also a little hesitant. He didn’t want to be leaving his family’s side. Not right now, but if she needed–

“Not right now,” Kate quickly added, swallowing. “Later.”

She was nervous. Fidgety. Anthony had never seen her like this. Bold, headstrong Kathani Sharma, who never backed down from a fight, big or small. It wasn’t like her to be nervous, especially around him. 

“Alright. Later,” he told her, agreeing, concerned. 

Kate nodded, before collecting her items off the chair and preparing to leave. After she’d thrown her coat on, there was an awkward dance between the two of them as they said good-byes. Anthony stuck his hand out to shake hers politely, while Kate moved in to hug him, leaving them both flustered and awkward. 

“He’ll be okay,” Kate finally said, trying to reassure him. “It’s Benedict. Nothing bad ever happens to him.”

Anthony sighed, defeated. “I hope you're right.”

The conversation trailed off, practically plunged off a cliff, as Kate watched him, eyes filled with concern. Then she stepped forward, leaned over, and kissed him on the cheek. Something that momentarily took Anthony by surprise. 

“Maybe, he’ll be up and at it in a few days,” she told him, sounding hopeful as she stepped back. “It’s Benedict.”

As they said their good-byes, Anthony prayed she was right.

—

Days ended up being weeks. 

Finally, after what felt to be the millionth scan performed on Benedict’s brain, the doctors began to gently wean him off the drugs. Stating that the swelling had gone down and it was safe to start trying to wake him up. The breathing tube was finally taken out after a week, along with some of the wires monitoring his vitals, so that his brother looked less like a machine and more like himself again, except asleep. His head was still wrapped in bandages, covering the small rectangle of shaved hair by his hairline the surgeons had had to cut off to stitch up the skull fracture. 

But the days continued to pass, with no signs of consciousness rising from Benedict, and the fear set back in again. Hope began to dwindle.

“All of our scans are showing normal brain function,” Dr. Quinn had told them. “All we can do now is wait for him to wake up on his own.”

Then there was the issue of his mother. 

“I’m fine,” Violet snapped. “I don’t need to go home. I–”

“Violet,” Uncle George gently interrupted. “You’ve been here since Ben was admitted. You’re going to make yourself sick if you don’t take a break.”

“I can’t just leave him. My son is–” Violet started, voice cracking, her emotions beginning to get the best of her.

“Mum,” Anthony cut in this time. He lay a hand over her and gently took it, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You need to go home and rest. Greg and Hy miss you and are worried sick about you. We all are. I’ll stay with Ben tonight. Colin said he’d come tomorrow morning and I know Eloise and Fran want to see him too. We’ll all rotate while you get some sleep.” 

She’d barely left Benedict’s side. Remaining, steadfast, in her vigil next Benedict comatose body as he slowly recovered. Uncle George and Aunt Billie had taken over running Number 4 in her absence, making sure Hyacinth and Gregory were taken care of. Anthony knew they had to convince his mother to go home, even if momentarily, before they descended back into the routine they’d been after his father died. Something Gregory and Hyacinth had originally been able to avoid witnessing due to their young age. 

His mother ended up agreeing to adding a night to her twice a week visit home to shower while they waited for Benedict to wake up. Only agreeing to as long as someone else was with Benedict while she was gone, which was usually Anthony. 

So, Anthony spent most of his time oscillating between work and the hospital. Any spare time he had, which even before all this had been limiting, was used to check on his siblings. He spent most nights at the hospital and only went home to shower quickly before getting to work. Agatha had tried to force him to take time off, but he found it pointless. Working at least distracted him from the growing fear his brother might just suddenly flat line on them. 

Or just never wake up. A worse thought. 

And for the most part, work did keep him distracted. So much, he almost forgot about Kate’s request. Her sudden ask to speak with him after everything had calmed down, which it now had. Sort off. 

Knocking sharply on her office door before opening it, Anthony stuck his head in and found her typing away at her desk. Her smooth hair was pulled into a familiar braid hanging over her shoulder and she wore a dark mauve pantsuit. 

When she glanced up at him, she briefly – briefly – smiled. The corner of her eyes crinkled as she did like she was actually pleased to see him for once. 

“Anthony, how are you?” she asked, eyes bright. They’d barely been able to see one another the past few weeks, with everything going on. “How’s Benedict?”

“No change still,” Anthony told her simply as he stepped into her office, quietly closing the door behind him. 

Kate’s eyes softened. “I’m sure it's just a matter of time,” she told him. 

“Yeah,” was all Anthony could get out. A pitiful, weak, breath of a word. He didn’t really need to be thinking about his comatose brother right now. 

“What can I do to help?” Kate offered then, noticing how tense he’d gotten.

“Nothing, really. Honestly, I came to speak to you,” he told her. “You said you wanted to talk?”

Kate went rigid, her back straightening as she stiffened. It appeared she'd forgotten about the request she’d made weeks before. 

Or, she hadn’t. And was hoping Anthony would have forgotten. 

“Oh, it’s fine,” she assured him. 

Anthony raised a brow at her. “You sure?”

“Yes. It was nothing. I took care of it,” Kate said back, far too quickly for him to consider everything was fine.

“Positive?” he asked, wanting to confirm. It hadn’t seemed to him like it was nothing. He remembered how stressed and worried she’d seemed. Realizing when he thought over later that she had been the same in the days leading up to Benedict’s accident. Like her mind was elsewhere. 

“I don’t want to talk about it. It’s fine,” she told him. 

“Whatever it is. I’m not going to be mad.”

Kate frowned. “Why would you be mad?”

“Because you usually believe that I will be.”

“No, I don’t.”

Now it was Anthony’s turn to frown. “Yes, you do. You have a tendency to disagree with me on everything we do together and assume, no matter what, that I won’t agree with you.”

“Because you think I’m not good at my job.”

His frown deepened in confusion. “When did I say that?”

“When haven’t you?”

“Oh for Christ's–Why are you being like this?”

“Why are you being so insufferable?” Kate asked with an annoyed breath as she rose from her desk and headed towards the shelf of books by her desk.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, can you just tell me what I did to piss you off this time? I’m not in the mood,” Anthony finally snapped. 

Kate blinked, stunned, before her sharp brows furrowed and she glowered at him from across the room, jaw clenched tight. Then she scoffed and shook her head, turning her body away from him once more as she reached out and grabbed a book off the shelf. 

“It’s nothing. I was just late and I thought I might be pregnant,” she told him, dismissively, with the wave of a hand.

Anthony froze. His mind grinding to a sudden and sharp stop as he thought for a second he’d misheard her. She thought she was–?

“But I’m not,” Kate clarified quickly, still speaking to him over her shoulder. “My period came. So, everything’s fine.” 

He could have had a kid. There had been a moment where he might have been a father. Something Anthony had never once thought about since his father’s death. He’d never thought about his future. 

Until now. 

Until he’d met Kate. 

“Everything–” The gears in Anthony’s head were beginning to turn again. “Everything’s just fine ?”

“Yes,” she responded, sounding annoyed now. 

“Seriously?”

“Yes! What is so difficult for you to understand?”

“Kathani. You can’t just tell me you thought you were pregnant and then act like we can just move on from this,” Anthony told her sternly as Kate merely scoffed.

“I don’t know why you are making such a big deal out of this,” she told him as she brushed past him to grab something on the shelf behind him. Still not making his eye. He was certain she rolled her eyes instead. “Besides, I wasn’t pregnant. I thought I was.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” he remarked tightly. 

“You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about it Anthony,” Kate shot back, sounding just as aggravated as he was. “We can just go back to how things were before.”

“How things–how things were?” Anthony asked, aghast. That was the last thing he wanted. “What if I don’t want to go back to that?”

There was no way in hell he wanted to go back to how things were. He couldn’t anymore. Not since she’d captured his heart and kept it out of reach for him to get back. 

“Well then, that’s too bad,” was the sharp response he got from her. Her back still turned towards him. 

Anthony stopped. At a loss for words.

He stared at the back of her head, unable to comprehend anything she was saying. Stunned into shock by her dismissive attitude towards everything that had happened between them. Her disinterest in him being a dagger to his already bleeding heart. 

When he took too long to respond, and realizing he was still standing in her office, Kate groaned and asked, annoyed. “Do you need anything else?!”

“No!” Anthony snapped back quickly, unable to think about anything else to say, before storming out of the room. If he stayed there any longer he might say something he’d regret. 

Grabbing his briefcase from his office, Anthony headed toward Benedict’s office. He’d been using it to escape the constant check-ins from everyone else. The worried, pitiful looks those who knew what was happening gave him whenever he walked the halls. It was the only place no one seemed to look for him in right now. The only place he had to hide. 

And right now, he needed to hide. 

He practically slammed the door behind him as he entered his brother’s office. Now forced into an infernally bad mood, Anthony almost threw the bag of Benedict’s stuff onto the table he pulled out of his briefcase in his fury, before slumping down onto one of the cream colored couches and groaning.

What a fucking mess. 

His brother’s fondness for art showed in the paintings he had hanging in his office. A blessed distraction. Romanticism, Benedict, ever the art historian, had once told him. Soothing landscapes of sunsets in dark hues that matched perfectly with the dark mahogany and gold furniture they’d gotten for the offices. His brother had always had a good eye for detail, how to make something look good. 

Everything was rigid and neat, but Benedict’s office was decorated more than Anthony’s, little knick knacks scattered about on the shelfs and his desk. A half solved rubix cube still sat on the desk pad next to the mouse. A Newton’s cradle sitting in the corner, one his brother would frequently play with while Anthony spoke to him about a case, pretending to ignore him just to piss him off. 

Anthony sighed. Glancing down at the clear plastic bag the cops had given him, of the items found on Benedict at the scene, he finally decided to go through them.

Inside was Benedict’s phone, the screen now bearing a large crack (they’d get him a new one when he woke up), a small, square velvet jewelry box, which the cops had told him was empty when they found it, the keys to Benedict’s Mercedes, and two envelopes. 

One was labeled for him. The other for Agatha. 

Opening the one addressed to him, Anthony froze in place as he read the words on the page.  

Dear Anthony,

I am writing to notify you that, effective immediately, I am resigning from my position at Bridgebury Counsel… 

Benedict was going to resign? But he hadn’t said anything. 

Anthony was stunned. Reading, then rereading, then reading again the letter clutched between his hands. A resignation letter his brother had typed up and printed a few nights before his accident, if the date on the letter was to be believed. Saying how he was sorry to be doing this but it was for the best. 

Snatching the letter addressed to Agatha and ripping it open, Anthony found an almost matching resignation letter, addressed to Agatha. 

I’ve realized, after much thought, that I was never truly happy working here. That many of the choices I’ve made in my life, and I’m certain you’ve already figured out as well, were done for the sake of my family and my father’s legacy.

For the sake of his family? Their father’s legacy? Anthony frowned. Benedict had never once let on to him that he was upset working at the family firm. That he was doing this all for them.

…Okay. Maybe he had. Once or twice. But that had been when they were younger. Anthony thought they were past that. Benedict knew the expectations that were put upon them, both of them, when they were young. That they were expected to follow after their father and help continue running Bridgebury. Together. 

All that time and work. All that studying. Years of it! And he was just going to throw it all away? Just like that. Like it was nothing? Benedict was just going to leave without another word. 

There was a pot of water that sat inside Anthony. One which sat on a stove waiting to be turned on. And once the match was lit, it slowly began to heat up.

Anthony was furious and he couldn’t figure out who it was he was most upset with. Kate. Benedict. Himself. For not seeing what was standing right in front of him. For not realizing how much of an idiot he’d been. At Kate and Benedict for not bothering to communicate with him. 

Then a soft vibration in his pocket caught his attention. Pulling his phone out he saw a text had come in from his mother. 

Mum : Hi sweetheart. Can you swing by Benedict’s place on your way here and pick up the throw blanket Nana made him? The hospital AC is dreadful and I’m worried he’s getting cold. 

Stuffing the letter into his pocket, Anthony quickly and quietly departed the office. Without saying a word to anyone. Leaving his briefcase and the bag of Benedict’s items still sitting in the room behind him. 

He needed to figure out what was going on, why his brother had decided to just up and leave, and his mother’s request was perfectly timed. A perfect excuse for him to drive over and investigate his brothers’ apartment. See if he could find any more clues as to what had suddenly brought this on. 

He still sped through London to get to his brother’s apartment, something he knew he shouldn’t, but his mind was going just as fast as his car. His body was running on autopilot as he quickly parked the car in the garage, storming past the site of the accident. The area right in front of where his brother’s car was still parked. A few crumbs of shattered glass still littered the area but management had washed the blood away after the police gave them the all clear too. 

Anthony made sure to not look.

Once he was inside, tucked into the elevator and heading up to his brother’s apartment, did his fingers brush against the resignation letter still crumpled inside his pocket. While he searched for his key ring, which carried one to Benedict’s apartment. The feel of the paper only reminded him how angry he was at his brother as he stormed into his apartment. 

He hadn’t really come in here since the accident. Probably even before that if he thought about it. The only time he stayed over at his brother’s was if he stayed at the office late. Benedict lived closer to Bridgebury than he did. In a nice high rise with a doorman. Which was why Anthony was still shocked and furious over the camera system in the parking lot being so outdated and inept. 

Grabbing the blanket from the spare bedroom and dropping it off on the sofa, Anthony shot his mother a quick text to confirm she didn’t need anything else. While he waited, Anthony decided to investigate what might have belonged in the little velvet box Benedict had been found with. Remembering the safe was located in the apartment’s office space. 

Benedict’s office was rarely used, even by his brother. But he knew the safe was behind the desk and his brother had given him the code years back in case of emergencies. The cops had wanted to know what exactly had been stolen and it was the first place Anthony thought to check.

Checking through the safe, through the documents, emergency cash, a few Rolexes, and other family heirlooms Benedict kept inside of it, Anthony was able to narrow down what was missing. Their paternal grandmother’s emerald and diamond ring. 

God damn it. 

All of this was just becoming too much. Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to fight off an impending migraine as he realized they’d now also lost an expensive heirloom. And Benedict was going to be distraught when he found out it was gone. He’d always been close with their grandmother. 

Sighing, Anthony turned away from the safe. Then his eyes caught something as he turned around and scanned over the desk. Checking to see if anything else looked out of place. He finally got a look at the picture frames sitting on it. All except one having been placed in one corner of the desk. Mainly of his siblings and mother, one or two of Benedict with his university friends, but one of them was new. Sitting in a frame on the other side, by itself, as if to suggest it was more important than the rest.

It was a simple photo though. Of Benedict and a woman Anthony didn’t recognize. Benedict was kissing the woman’s cheek as she smiled brightly at the camera, mid laugh. They were standing in a park, colorful leaves in shades of red hanging above them. 

Strange. Since when had Benedict been seeing anyone?

“Dating? Please, brother. Be serious,” he remembered his brother telling him with a laugh one night the month before, while they were out getting drinks. An evening Anthony had spent complaining about Kate. Telling his brother everything that had happened between them recently. 

“I promise, Anth, I would have told you if I was seeing anyone,” his brother had told him. But now Anthony realized he’d been lying.

He should have seen it before too. The distance. The shift in behavior. How closed off his brother had suddenly become about his personal affairs. The disappearing acts he kept pulling, coming late to family dinner and work events while dismissing any of their concerns or questions with a flip of the hand. Saying he was busy at the office or got held up in traffic, when Anthony knew he was leaving work early, slipping out without anyone noticing.

Benedict had even stopped flirting with other women. With other men too. He’d stopped looking at them in general, now that Anthony thought about it. 

And then there was the ring. A ring Anthony knew their grandmother had given to Benedict to one day give to his spouse, whoever that was. Which meant one thing now that he thought about it.

Benedict was planning to propose to someone. To the woman in the photo, smiling happily back at him. 

Maybe he was just getting it cleaned, a voice in Anthony’s head suggested innocently. Maybe this was all just some big misunderstanding. 

But why else would he have taken it out of the safe? The place he’d been keeping it in for years now. Untouched. What else would have convinced his brother to impulsively decide to quit work? It didn’t make sense.

He’d generally just been…happy. Granted, he was always happy. Nothing seemed to bother Benedict. Ever. Yes, Benedict was the most laid back and easy going of his siblings, but lately there was nothing that seemed to faze him. No matter how stressful work had gotten, some of the cases they’d had were particularly tedious, Benedict had taken it in stride, clapping his brother supportively on the back and telling him they’d get through it.

But now he was also radiating happiness. Always in a good mood while he was at work, when a year ago it had been like pulling teeth to get him to go a day without complaining about the firm. Anthony thought he’d finally just gotten used to it. That his brother had finally come to enjoy the work the way Anthony always had. 

While the entire time he’d been lying through his teeth. All these months he’d spent working harder than Anthony had ever seen, cheering him on and lightening the load, and yet the entire time, he’d had one foot out the door. Planning to leave all of it to Anthony to deal with on his own. 

Again. 

His hand clenched around the letter, crumpling it up into a tight ball before his body was throwing it across the room as he stormed out of the office. The pot inside of him was now boiling as he snatched up the blanket. The heat grew hotter with each passing second as fear, betrayal and disbelief filled him. 

He and Benedict were going to be having a serious conversation about this. Once he’d woken up and Anthony had confirmed he wasn’t going to drop dead on him, he was going to kill him. A decision that was going to be based solely on Benedict’s reason for leaving. 

He couldn’t believe it. He honestly couldn’t believe Benedict would do this to him.

Then the doorknob rattled behind him and he paused, listening. Another key was fiddling about inside before the heavy lock twisted and then the door swung open. Anthony assumed it might be one of his siblings, they all had keys, but it wasn’t.

Instead, a young woman Anthony didn’t know stepped into the front hallway. Short and petite, with porcelain pale skin and sharp cheekbones. Inky black hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. She was quite pretty too, even dressed in what looked to be an oversized, grey sweatshirt with the faded words Cambridge on them. A pair of simple, black leggings underneath. 

It was the woman from the photographs. 

There were shadows under her eyes and an expression of worry clouding her face as she chewed her lower lip. Her mind seemed elsewhere as she closed the door behind her and stepped further into the apartment, not realizing someone was also inside. But the expression disappeared as she looked up and saw Anthony.

Her dark eyes widened, a soft gasp slipped from her lips. 

“Oh!” she breathed out.

And in that moment, the pieces all fell into place. 

Benedict had purposefully lied and told him his love life was shit to make him feel better about how things were going for him with Kate. Benedict couldn’t relate to any of the shit Anthony was going through, because he’d been too busy playing house with a woman he hadn’t bothered to even tell any of them about. A woman he was going to purpose to, even though he hadn’t even introduced any of them to her.

She’d probably been the one to tell him to do this. 

It was all her fault.

The pot finally boiled over. Weeks of stress, lack of sleep, and fear over his brother dying finally exploded within Anthony all at once.  

And a bitter rage settled in Anthony’s stomach instead. 

Chapter Text

| Six Years Ago |

Anthony frowned. “Who are you?”

“Um…” the woman eyed him suspiciously. “Sophie. Who are you?”

“What are you doing here?” he asked next, snappishly. Ignoring her question. 

Slowly taking a step into the apartment, the woman, Sophie, glanced around nervously. “I’m looking for Benedict. I’ve been calling but he wasn’t picking up. Is everything alright?” 

“No. My brother’s been rather busy as of late,” he snapped at her, glaring now. As if that would be enough to convince the woman to turn around and leave without saying another word.

“ Oh ! You’re Anthony aren’t you?” Sophie surmised, dark brows popping up in surprise as she realized. She gave him a small, fond but tired smile. “Ben talks about you all the time.”

The knot in Anthony’s stomach tightened further. His jaw clenched involuntarily. Teeth gritted as he continued to glare at her. 

“Strange, given he’s never mentioned you,” he shot back flatly, growing increasingly more annoyed. 

Sophie frowned again, confused. “I’m sorry, but has something happened?”

Anthony could only scoff. “What are you doing here?” he practically snapped at her. 

“I’m looking for Benedict. I was worried. He wasn’t answering my messages. And I tried calling his work but they said he had a family emergency. So, I got worried and–” Sophie started to say, as if it was a simple enough answer. She moved a hand up to brush a loose stand behind her ear as she spoke and Anthony saw it. 

A flash of metal on her left hand. His eyes widened.

The ring!

Surging forward, Anthony grabbed at her wrist. It was small and almost delicate, Anthony’s entire hand wrapped around it with ease as he squeezed it tightly. Sophie flinched back, surprised by his sudden attack. She tried to pull her arm out of his grip.

“Give it to me!” he demanded.

“Give you what?”

“The bloody emerald ring,” he snapped. “I know he gave it to you.”

“Emerald what ? I don’t have any rings from him,” Sophie told him, panicked and confused. Eyes wide with alarm and fear. 

“If you do not give it back I swear I will rain legal hellfire down on you, do you understand?” Anthony practically growled at her, stepping closer to her and leaving her caught between him and the well. “I will sue you for everything you own and make sure the entire city knows who you are. What you are.” 

Alarmed, Sophie stared at him, unable to move, before slowly reaching up to her neck. Shakily, she pulled out a thin silver chain that was hidden beneath her sweater, before unclasping it and holding it out towards him. 

A silver heart pendant with the letters ‘S & B’ engraved onto the metal, along with a small, silver bee charm, swung back and forth as it dangled in the air between them. 

“This is all he gave me,” Sophie told him, voice shaking, as she handed over the necklace. Hoping it would de-escalate the situation. Anthony could see now the ring on her finger was a simple silver band with three, smaller sapphires, not the missing engagement ring. “It’s the only jewelry I ever got from him. I don’t know about any ring, I swear–” 

Anthony snatched the chain from her hands, making her flinch again and trying to cringe further away from him. Shoving it into his pocket, Anthony then grabbed Sophie by the shoulders and pushed her towards the door.

“The key. Give me the key,” he ordered with a hiss next.

Sophie quickly obeyed, pulling out the spare key she’d used to unlock the apartment and giving it to him. Which he snatched from her just as quickly. 

“Do not ever contact him again. Do you understand me? He doesn’t want anything to do with you,” he ordered at her as he dragged her to the door. All while she struggled. 

Once he was at the door he pulled it open and pushed her out into the hallway. Sophie spun around to find, terrified, eyes wide as she stared at him in shock. She opened her mouth to say something, to argue, her hand moving down to her stomach. But Anthony didn’t notice. Didn’t care. 

“Don’t ever come back here again,” he snapped at her and violently slammed the door in her face without saying another word. 

Closing his eyes, Anthony let out a long breath, leaning forward and resting his forehead on the door. Behind it, he heard a few sniffles and choked gasps, followed by footsteps quickly heading down the hall to the elevator. Fleeing from the apartment.

After a few silent seconds, he blinked. Anger fading to shock and guilt. Surprise over his own actions. As if he’d just been running on autopilot. 

What the hell had he just done?

What was wrong with him? Yelling at her like that. She didn't know anything. That was obvious. She had no idea what was going on. He should go after her. Apologize. Explain to her what was going on. With Benedict. Why he had reacted to her the way he had. 

But as he went to grab the doorknob, to race after her, the cellphone in his back pocket started vibrating. And knowing it might be the hospital, Anthony had to answer it, bringing the phone to his ear. Not checking caller ID.

“You need to get back here. Right now ,” Colin said immediately. The moment the line connected. Before Anthony could even get a word or a ‘hello’ out.

His stomach dropped. Anthony felt his body take a sharp intake of breath. “Why? What’s wrong? What happened?” he quickly asked, rapid fire. 

“Benedict’s awake.”

—

He needed to stop speeding through London, or else he was seriously going to get pulled over and ticketed. 

He’d apologize. He’d start by apologizing. If he had to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness he would. He’d do anything to make it up to his brother. To Benedict. 

What the fuck was wrong with him? Kicking his brother’s girlfriend out without even bothering to get to know her? To speak to her. To tell her what had happened. To give her a chance . All while his brother had been laying in a coma on the other side of the city, unable to stop him. How could he do that? To Benedict of all people? To his brother, who’d always been there at his side to help him out. 

He’d lost his temper that was all. He’d always had a terrible temper, since he was little. Always rushed to judgement without bothering to get all the facts. He did the same to Daphne and Simon when he’d discovered their relationship. 

As he swerved into the parking lot of the hospital and quickly parked his car, Anthony rushed into the hospital. He rushed through the hall, around patients and nurses, until he made it to the private room they’d had Benedict in. Finding his brother Colin pacing outside.

“Colin!” he called out and his brother spun around to face him.

“Anthony!”

“Is he okay?” Anthony quickly asked, out of breath, as he approached his brother. 

Colin nodded. “He’s fine.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“It’s just…he…” his brother hesitated, trailing off. 

“What is it, Colin?”

His brother cringed, still unable to find the words.

“Tell me,” Anthony demanded next, sternly.

“He…he got the date wrong,” his brother finally admitted to him.

Anthony frowned. “What do you mean?”

Colin ran a shaky hand through his hair, giving a panicked, tense shrug. “Wasn’t just the day. He got the year wrong. Then the doctor asked him what the last thing he remembered was and he said he was in his apartment studying for the solicitors exam.”

Anthony blinked, feeling the color drain from his face. “He took that exam four years ago,” he said quietly and Colin nodded.

“I know!” his brother shot back, scared. He was scared. “They’re having the neurologist come down to speak with him right now. Mum’s still in there with him.”

“Is she okay?” Anthony asked.

Colin shrugged again. “You know Mum. She’s being positive, what with him being awake now. All smiles and cheer, trying to make sure he doesn’t realize something’s off, but it's Benedict. He knows her tics better than any of us. I’m pretty sure he’s realized something’s wrong. What are we supposed to do?!” 

“Okay, okay– alright!” Anthony interrupted suddenly, stopping his brother before he spiraled further into panic. “It’s alright,” he said, calmly. “We’ll figure this out.”

Patting his brother supportively on the back, Anthony gave him a reassuring smile, which Colin returned still a bit stressed. Then followed him into the hospital room. 

Walking in, he found his brother sitting up in bed, awake and talking for the first time in weeks. He was alert and speaking, not a single sign from him that anything was wrong. That anything had happened to him frankly. Benedict was even smiling, chatting with the doctor standing at his bedside. 

A different doctor than Dr. Quinn was standing there, leaned over towards his brother, waving a flashlight over Benedict’s eyes and asking him to follow some simple instructions. Follow the light, tell him his name, etc. All things Benedict did without complaint.

“Do you recognize the people in the room?” the neurologist then asked him as he straightened up, clicking the flashlight off.

“Yep,” Benedict said, nodding his head. He flashed them his crooked grin. “My wonderful mother Violet and two dimwitted brothers, Anthony and Colin.”

Their mother let out a disappointed sigh, shaking her head, but her hands wrapped around one his clutched it just a little tighter. Colin, meanwhile, merely scoffed as if nothing was wrong and flipped him off behind the doctor’s back, making Benedict’s smile widen. 

But Anthony remained where he was, standing as still as a statue. 

“And the last thing you remembered was studying, yes?” the doctor then asked.

Benedict nodded. “I’d come home from lunch with my family. It was Eloise’s birthday. We had to do lunch because I had to study and Colin had a flight to catch. Went to some vegan place by the river cause El’s on a kick right now about food ethics and won’t eat meat.”

Anthony’s stomach tightened as his brother spoke. Eloise’s vegan kick lasted all of six months. Even if it had convinced Francesca to go vegetarian, Eloise’s had ended right as she started at uni. 

Four years ago.

“Last thing I remember was studying at my desk. Thought I must have fallen asleep.” His brother then let out a worried laugh. “I didn’t miss the exam, did I?”

“You passed,” Anthony quickly assured him. 

“That’s good,” Benedict replied softly, nodding along. Looking a little relieved. “One less thing to worry about.”

“Mr. Bridgerton, I’m certain you’ve realized that some time has passed,” the neurologist started.

“Four years from what I’m hearing,” Benedict remarked, lightly, turning his attention back to the doctor. “It’s only four, right?”

The man nodded. “By the looks of it, yes.”

“Well, it could be worse. Could have forgotten ten years,” Benedict joked back. “Fours not too bad of a number. Always been my favorite one.”

His brother was trying to stay calm. Playing it off as if it was no issue, but Anthony could tell he was freaking out. The panic was there in his eyes, even if he was still smiling. Trying to make sure everyone else around him was okay first. 

“Give it to me straight, doc. Am I dying?” Benedict asked, jokingly.

“Benedict,” their mother said with a terrified gasp. “Don’t talk like that.”

The neurologist gave him a small, polite smile. “No, no you are not. Besides the memory loss, you appear perfectly healthy, especially with the trauma your body sustained,” he told him, nodding towards Benedict’s leg, currently held aloft and in a cast. “We need to run a few more tests, but I suspect you’ve developed retrograde amnesia from your accident.”

“Which is…?”

“Which is when one is unable to recall events that happened prior to the event that caused it. In your case four years of memory prior to the accident.”

“Is it permanent?” Benedict then asked.

“Some cases, yes. In other cases, no. It all just depends,” the neurologist said simply. “I’m going to put the order in for some neuro tests, just so we can confirm what we already suspect. And once those results are in, we can put together a plan to help you during your recovery.”

“Thank you, doctor,” their mother said kindly, before the neurologist nodded and took his leave. 

Silence filled the room as the doctor left. Anthony stood there, stunned to silence, as he watched his brother’s pale eyes fall on his. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I know. I know. You’ve always been the one to tell me to look both ways before I cross the street but really, I–” Benedict started, holding his hands up in surrender, as Anthony found himself moving towards him. Breezing across the room. 

And quickly throwing his arms around his brother. Pulling him into a tight hug. 

“What? Did you miss me or something?” Benedict asked, jokingly, with a laugh while he wrapped his arms around him, patting Anthony on the back. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Anthony told him as he hugged him, clinging to him. He felt his mother’s hand gently come to rest supportively on his back as well as he pulled back from his brother, keeping one of his hands on Benedict’s shoulder. “You have no idea how happy I am that you're awake.”

Benedict only smiled up at him. “Well, who else is going to fix your mistakes? Colin? Besides, no one knows how to keep you in check better than me. Right Mum?”

“Benedict,” their mother said with a disappointed sigh, shaking her head, but Benedict’s slanted smile only grew as he found himself going unpunished for the teasing insult he shot at his brother.

“You’re an asshole,” Anthony told him, smiling.

“And you’re a prick,” Benedict said with just as much affection.

“Boys,” their mother remarked, warning now. Mainly at the improper language. Which made Colin chuckle softly behind them. 

“Sorry, mother,” both Anthony and Benedict said at the same time. Something they’d grown accustomed to doing since they were little, mainly to annoy her. 

Something that just made Violet Bridgerton sigh again.

“You sure you’re feeling alright?” she asked Benedict, moving on to more important matters.

“I’m fine,” Benedict said, now the one to sigh.

“We’ll get through this sweetheart,” their mother said encouragingly, as she squeezed his hand again.

“I know,” Benedict told her.

“Maybe we can look through your phone,” his mother suggested. “It might have information in it we don’t know.”

Anthony stiffened. The phone. The phone with evidence of Sophie on it. 

He couldn’t let Benedict find out what he’d done. 

“Yeah, yeah you’re right,” Benedict said back, playing along to keep their mother happy. 

“You still have his phone, right Anthony?” Violet asked, turning to look at him for an answer. “The police gave it to you.”

Anthony blinked, momentarily made mute, before he quickly coughed and cleared his throat. “I think I left it at my place. With the stuff they gave us from the scene. I’ll run home and check. See if the phone still works– I might have to let it charge though !”

His mother flashed him a smile and nodded, not noticing anything off with her son, before turning back to Benedict and squeezing his hand.

“We’ll figure this out sweetheart,” she told him. “You’ll see.” 

Benedict gave his mother a small smile back, completely unaware of his brother’s plan.

Anthony couldn’t have fled any quicker. 

—

His ability to not get pulled over for speeding was beginning to become, frankly, miraculous. 

He’d raced back to the office, wanting to get his hands on Benedict’s phone before anyone else could possibly see it. And once he was back in Benedict’s office, he snatched the phone off the table and quickly typed in his mother’s birthday.

But the phone only vibrated. Remaining locked. The screen flashing to alert it was the wrong code. 

Benedict was the sentimental type. If it wasn’t their mother’s birthday it would be someone else he was close with like–

No.

Oh, that idiot. He wouldn’t. 

Anthony sighed. His brother could be such a fool. An embarrassing, predictable fool. 

There was a calendar in his brother’s apartment. He’d remembered seeing it hanging next to the fridge when he’d been there early. And, after he returned there and did a quick look through, found a date in December circled with the words ‘Soph’s B-day’ and two small hearts inside of it. All in Benedict’s handwriting. A calendar Anthony had then snatched off the wall and tossed in the trash. Along with anything else that looked to have belonged to this Sophie woman his brother had been seeing. 

Typing the four numbers into his brother’s phone led to the device unlocking instantly and revealing a screen containing a background picture of this mysterious Sophie. His brother’s phone was filled with pictures of her. 

And once he was into the phone, Anthony got to work. Starting off by changing the password back to his mother’s birthday, before deleting the text chain with Sophie and changing her contact name. Getting rid of the widgets and background pictures. Then, slowly and meticulously, he went through the photo albums and camera roll, deleting any image with her in it. Making sure there were no backups.  

His stomach twisted into a tighter knot with every button he pressed. He felt like he was going to be sick, but Anthony continued on. Swiping, clicking, tapping and deleting all evidence of Sophia Baek from his brother’s phone. 

He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. He should be telling his brother instead. Tell him about Sophie. Maybe she could even help, but–

But it was for his own good. The last thing his brother needed to be dealing with was a gold-digger using his memory loss to their own advantage. She wouldn’t be the first to try. And the firm needed him. Anthony needed him. 

He just had to prove he was right. Prove she was nothing but a gold-digger. 

So he hired a private investigator, and a week later, he had a dossier of information sitting on his desk about her. 

Sophia Baek was the daughter of Richard Gun and Maria Baek. Her parents had never married. Initially, Sophie had been raised by her mother, who had moved to France when Sophie was three. But Maria had passed from ovarian cancer only two years later and Sophie was quickly shipped back to London and put in the care of the only remaining relative, her father, who had then provided for her education, health and welfare until his death from a sudden heart attack when she was in secondary school. Then, a year or so later, she’d moved again. This time with her godparents, who’d been listed as her guardians when she started sixth form instead of her stepmother. 

He scanned over her background. She’d attended a prestigious boarding school outside of London, with one year spent studying abroad in France, and had been at the top of her class when she graduated. Graduating with honors and getting into the London School of Economics where she’d been studying accounting. But that wasn’t what had caught his eye. What had been a cause for concern.

Sophie Baek was also currently in the middle of a contentious lawsuit with her stepmother. Over the matter of her inheritance. Her father had been a wealthy property owner who operated a profitable construction and real estate company, meaning he’d left his daughter a sizable inheritance upon his death. An inheritance Sophie had been suing her step-relatives over. 

Anthony had gotten his hands on the suit and read through it, finding Sophie was accusing her stepmother of embezzlement and withholding access to her trust fund. That she’d not been made aware of the true amount of what her inheritance said, and that her stepmother had lied about the ownership of her father’s home and properties after his death. Her solicitor was asking for Sophie to have full access to her inheritance ahead of when she would get it on her twenty-fifth birthday, with damages totaling an amount of what was allegedly lost and ownership of the house, two summer homes, and three cars her father owned, all of which the will had left to her. 

The case was weak. Accusations of abuse with no evidence save for a few angry text messages from the defendant and two wills being presented in the court case, Anthony was surprised it had made it as far as it had. At best, Anthony agreed she should get the house but he couldn’t agree with the claim her inheritance had been embezzled. He knew what it was like to manage care for someone. He’d had to care for six siblings and a mother after his father passed. And the missing amount Sophie was claiming had been embezzled seemed to match the claims her stepmother made of using it to care for her. 

But it looked as though the court was siding with Sophie over her stepmother. More evidence had been presented that suggested the will the defendant had provided was a forgery.

A defendant named Araminta Gun, who was also the mother of Rosamund and Posy Li. Something which made Anthony pause and frown when he read it. It couldn’t possibly be the same Rosamund. How many Rosamund Lis were there in London?

Apparently only one. Because one quick call and an even quicker conversation with Rosamund confirmed Anthony’s suspicions. The Rosamund Li listed in the suit and the Rosamund Li who saved his brother’s life were one and the same. 

And she had been more than welcomed to explain what had happened. As was her mother. 

He kept it to himself, how he knew of Sophie, not finding it necessary for them to know she was seeing his brother. They did not need to be aware of how he came to know of her, just that he wanted to know more. That he’d heard through the grapevine they were going through some tough times and wanted to help, to pay them back for saving his brother’s life. 

But one mention of her name and they provided all the information he needed. Confirming what he already suspected about his brother’s recent fling. 

Sophie Baek was nothing more than a spoiled, little rich girl who was upset she could no longer afford the lifestyle of luxury her father had given her. No wonder she had sued her step-relatives. No wonder she was dating Benedict. 

“She was always difficult,” Araminta had told him as she wiped her eyes with a tissue. “My husband and I tried everything. Schools. Therapy. Peer-mentor groups. I tried to get through to her, but it was just easier to give her what she wanted. I thought we were on good terms after Richard passed, even though she only spoke to me when she needed money. Then she moved out one day and the next thing I knew I was being served papers.”

There hadn’t been much he could do to help. By the time he’d met with them, the judge had issued his decision. He had sided with Ms. Baek, stating while the allegation of abuse was too circumstantial based on the evidence provided, the secondary will from Richard Gun was a forgery. Sophie had provided enough to prove the signature was a fake. Meaning the judge was basing his opinion on the original will. Her inheritance would be handed over to her godparents to be managed by them until she reached twenty-five and the deeds of the house, an apartment in Mayfair, and two cars her father owned were to be handed to her effective immediately. The amount of money missing from her inheritance was to be paid back in full by Mrs. Gun along with the legal fees. And since the original will stipulated the money left to Mrs. Gun be handled by whomever controlled Sophie’s inheritance, that too was now in the hands of Sophie’s godparents. 

“She must have found out about the second will,” Araminta had added. “Richard didn’t want her to know. He knew it would turn into a fight. I told him it was a foolish idea, but he was tired of putting up with her. Her mother was the same, you know. Demanding he pay for her care until the day she died.”

Anthony had consulted with their solicitor and helped the Li’s file an appeal, which upon mediation, Sophie agreed to drop what the court had ordered Mrs. Gun to pay her back in exchange for a no contact order. Araminta and her daughters would not be allowed to contact her, except through her solicitor, and they would vacate her father’s home by the end of the month. In exchange, the money Araminta now owed her would be dismissed, Sophie would allow her to buy the apartment in Mayfair from her, and she would agree the money her father had left to his wife be transferred back. But only the amount owed if she no longer took Sophie on as her ward.

The legal fees would still need to be paid for, but Anthony assured the Li’s he would handle it and had sent the check to Sophie’s solicitor the day after the agreement was made and the judge accepted it. Araminta was eternally grateful for his help, and Anthony more than welcomed to provide it. He felt he owed them, especially now that he knew exactly who it was his brother had been dating. 

He’d been right to convince his brother to end it with her. She wasn’t good enough for him and while he felt bad for not telling his brother what had happened, he knew the betrayal would only hurt him further. He had enough to deal with currently, but Anthony supposed it was, in a way, a blessing. His brother didn’t need to suffer through the heartbreak. He could go on with his life as if nothing had happened. 

And Anthony would make sure he was there for his brother from this point on, that he was going in the right direction and with the right people. Moving forward, he’d be there for his brother when he needed it. 

—

“You alright?” 

Benedict hummed, glancing up at him. “Yeah, yeah,” he replied, although his face was still twisted up in a grimace. He rubbed his fingers in a circle over the skin between his eyebrows “Just a headache.”

They were in his hospital room, waiting for the discharge papers to be signed, and for the past five minutes, Benedict had been grimacing over something. Rubbing his temples on and off every couple seconds, and frowning.  

“Want me to get a nurse?” Anthony asked, starting to rise from his chair, but his brother shook his head, motioning for him to sit back down.

“It’ll pass,” he told him. “They usually do.” 

Anthony frowned. “Has this been happening a lot?”

“Every once in a while one comes on suddenly. Whenever I feel…” he trailed off with a sigh, looking uncomfortable.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.”

Anthony sighed, a little annoyed. “You can tell me Benedict. I won’t judge you.”

“I just feel…I don’t know. It’s stupid. Really. It’s fine.”

“You feel like what?”

Benedict just sighed, defeatedly, slumping back in his bed before finally admitting it. 

“I feel like I’m forgetting something.”

Anthony frowned, confused, and his brother just laughed.

“I know. I know. Ironic right? It’s just…it feels like I’m forgetting something important. Really important. Like I’m supposed to be somewhere right now but I have no idea and any second now its gonna hit me like a fuck ton of bricks and I just know I’ll be screwed over how massively I’ve fucked up. It feels like my head is punishing me for forgetting,” he said, frowning as he let out another defeated sigh and let his head fall back against the pillows of his hospital bed. A second later his mouth twisted upwards and he chuckled lightly. “But given my current situation, I shouldn’t be all that surprised, now should I? Who knows what I’m forgetting.” 

“I’m sure the memories will come back to you. The doctor said to give it time,” Anthony assured him gently, reaching forward to rest his hand on Benedict's shoulder and give it a squeeze. “And whatever it is, I’m certain we can figure it out. Figure out a way to fix it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” Benedict said. 

The doctors had told them it was all up in the air. That there was no way of knowing if Benedict would regain any of the memories he’d lost back. Some patients got back their missing memories in a few days, others after a few years, and some never. Only time would tell.

And Anthony silently prayed his brother never would. That way he wouldn’t have to admit to him what he’d done. 

“If anyone can get through something like this, brother, it’s you,” he told his brother, patting him on the back before pulling away, sitting back in his chair. “You’re the toughest out of us. No way you’ll let something like this drag you down.”

“Thanks, Anth.”

“Besides, you should probably be grateful it’s just some memory loss. I’m pretty sure that thick head of yours is the only reason you survived in the first place.”

It was mean, simple brotherly teasing, but Benedict only scoffed, smiling back as he flipped him the bird, shaking his head at him. 

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Someone has to keep you in check,” Anthony told him.

“I thought that was my job? With you?” was his brother’s retort. “Mum personally assigned it to me when I was eight.” 

Anthony only smiled. “Well, I suppose since you’re on sabbatical right now someone else gets to do it.”

“Eloise said it's the first vacation I’ve taken in years, and yet, I’m only going home,” Benedict told him with a small smile. 

“Given the rest of us won’t be around, I’m certain it still counts. In a way,” Anthony reminded him with a smile of his own. 

“That’s true. Although, Eloise already said she’d be coming to check on me. And Mum. And Francesca. And Hyacinth and Gregory,” Benedict then told him. 

“We’ll rotate,” Anthony assured. “I’ll make sure they don’t all crowd you at once.”

“Thanks.” 

“Maybe I’ll even take a vacation,” Anthony suggested lightly, before noticing the frown on his brother’s face. “Not to Aubrey Hall,” he clarified.

“Well, I’m certain Kate will be happy to hear that,” his brother said with a knowing smile. 

Anthony’s smile only grew wider. Things had quickly gotten back to normal once his brother was awake, except for him and Kate. They'd finally been able to figure things out. Granted, it had come after an explosive argument in the supply closet at Bridgebury turned into passionate declarations of love for one another followed by even more passionate exercises being performed on the floor of said supply closet. 

Maybe he’d take her somewhere, for a long, long weekend. A thought that brought a smile to Anthony’s face. They’d only been dating now for a short time, but already, the relationship seemed to be going a mile a minute. 

Glancing back at his brother, Anthony noticed him frowning down at his phone. Which was currently vibrating from an incoming call. 

“What is it?”

“This contact keeps calling me,” Benedict told him, showing him the screen of his phone. The word Stalker flashed back at Anthony and he froze. “I-I don’t know what this is about or why I keep–”

“She’s some nobody,” Anthony told him quickly, swallowing down his anxiety as he stared at the contact name he’d put in. “You went out on a date with her one time and she hasn’t left you alone since.”

“Oh,” Benedict said, frowning at the screen. He seemed hesitant. His finger hovering over the red decline button. 

“She was just interested in your money,” Anthony added. “I kept telling you to report her but you said she was harmless. But I really think you need to put your foot down with her.”

“And how do you suggest I go about that?”

He was treading into dangerous waters. Anthony knew that this was wrong. Deep down he knew.

But it was for Benedict’s benefit. He’d understand one day. 

“I’ll tell you what to say. Just answer it,” Anthony told him, and Benedict nodded. 

Clicking the accept call, Benedict brought the phone to his ear, saying a quick ‘hello’ before waiting for the other person to speak. Giving them a chance to speak, only briefly. 

“You need to stop calling me…” his brother then said into the device sternly, and from there Anthony was able to lead him through the conversation with ease. 

But that day in the hospital with his brother would one day go down as one of the worst days of Anthony’s life. Probably worse than when his father died, or when his brother’s accident happened as it was a day he made a horrible decision that would impact his brother for the rest of his life. A decision he would end up spending the rest of his life trying to make up for. 

It would only take him six years to realize that. 

Chapter Text

| Present Day |

“Oh, God!” Sophie gasped out.

Anthony, momentarily taken aback when he saw her standing on the front steps, immediately shifted from shocked disbelief to anger. In the blink of an eye, he then shifted to fury. His eyes narrowed. His face darkened.

“You,” he hissed, moving towards her suddenly. Making her flinch and take a step backwards. Sophie grabbed the railing next to her to make sure she didn’t slip and fall backwards down the stairs in her haste to put distance between them. 

And she blinked at him, somehow hoping he would just disappear if she closed her eyes, but he was still standing in the doorway each time, glaring furiously at her. He’d pulled the door almost closed behind him, to prevent her from being able to look into the home. 

His home. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” he then snapped. 

She stuttered, still struggling to comprehend how this was happening. But it had been staring her in the face the entire time.

Neddy. A variation of the name Ned. Or a nickname for Edward or Edmund.

As in, Edmund Bridgerton-Sharma.

She’d never asked. She’d just assumed. She knew Anthony worked at the firm, had been dreading the day he finally appeared and realized she was there, but she thought she still had time. Thought she’d be able to avoid him or at least talk to him first before anyone else got to him. To tell him she had no plans on sticking around and that if they just left each other alone he wouldn’t ever need to worry about her. 

But now…now things had just gotten further complicated. 

“Neddy’s your son?” she asked, shocked. 

Anthony’s brows furrowed. “Yes, he is,” he told her angrily. “Now answer the question. What the hell are you doing here?”

She couldn’t speak. Hell, she couldn’t think straight anymore. All Sophie could do was stare at Anthony, in shock, and struggle to get even a sound out. Fear was lacing up her spine as she remembered the last time they had met. What he’d said. What he’d threatened . 

She didn’t even know what to do. Her first instinct was to flee. Fight or flight taking over and egging her on to get the hell out of there, before she remembered that she was here to pick up her son. 

A son who had grown up without a father because of the man standing in front of her. 

And for once, fury began building her. Smothering the fear. Even if momentarily. She wouldn’t back down from him, not this time. Never ever again.

Straightening her back, Sophie lifted her chin up at him. “I’m here to pick up my son. Charlie,” she told him, curtly, summoning all the courage she could muster. 

Anthony frowned. “Charlie?”

“Anthony?” Kate’s voice rang out from inside the home. “Who is it?”

“It’s me!” Sophie called back before he could answer, cutting him off. Scared if she didn’t Anthony would slam the door in her face, preventing her from getting to her son. 

She just needed to get Charles and get away from here. As fast as possible. 

“Oh, Sophie!” Kate called out happily. There were the sounds of footsteps over hardwood floors as someone came towards the front door. “ Boys! Charlie, your mother is here to pick you up!”

The door then opened fully once more, revealing Kate on the other side, who smiled brightly when she saw her. Sophie gave a weak smile back, trying to conceal her fear and discomfort. Even though she could feel her body begin to shake.

“Oh, I see you’ve met my husband. Anthony, this is Sophie. She’s Agatha’s new assistant,” Kate explained. “She’s also Charles’ mother.” 

“ What ?” Anthony breathed out, shocked, as if he hadn’t heard her, but he was barely heard over the loud, thundering sound of little legs charging down the stairs as Charles and Neddy raced downstairs to greet them.

“Mama!” Charles squealed happily, squeezing past Kate and Anthony as he threw himself out towards her.

“Hey, baby,” Sophie said, catching him and pulling him into a tight hugging him. One, in an effort to hide her shaking arms and two, to keep her son away from Anthony. “How was your sleepover?”

“Hi, Ms. Baek,” Neddy greeted, giving her a wave from where he stood next to his parents. 

“Hi, Neddy,” Sophie returned, voice still shaking.

Sparing a glance up at, Sophie was able to notice the exact moment Anthony put two and two together. When the lightbulb went off above his head. When he realized how old Charlie was. The color all but drained from his face as his head snapped from Charles to her. As he stared at her, shocked. Eyes wide with disbelief. 

To which Sophie, pointedly, ignored him.

“You’re welcome to stay for some tea,” Kate told her. 

“Please can we stay longer? Please, please, please,” Charlie begged. 

“I’m afraid we have to get back home,” Sophie said to Kate before turning to Charlie. “We’re having brunch with Nana and Pop-pop, remember?”

“Oh, how exciting. Well, I won’t delay you two any longer—” Kate was cut off by the muffled sounds of a baby beginning to cry upstairs. She sighed. “And it looks like Miles just woke up anyway. I have to go get him.”

“No worries,” Sophie assured her. 

“We’re still on for the aquarium?”

“Um…yes. Sure. We’ll talk…Monday.”

“Great! I’ll see you then, Sophie,” Kate said with a bright smile. 

As she disappeared up the stairs, Sophie and Anthony were left awkwardly standing in the doorway. The stunned expression on Anthony’s face had yet to disappear and his lack of speaking was beginning to unnerve her. 

“You had a—you were—?” he struggled to find the words. To finish that sentence. 

“Come along, Charlie,” Sophie quickly said, not wanting to spend another moment in his presence. “We need to get going.”

“Bye, Neddy!” Charles waved excitedly over his shoulder to his friend—his cousin standing behind Anthony. “I’ll see you on Monday!”

“Bye Charlie,” Neddy said, waving happily back. 

Sophie moved as fast as she could down the steps, practically dragging Charles down them behind her. She got to the gate, pulled it back almost violently in her haste and began to step past, to get herself as far from the home as she could, when a voice called out behind her. 

“Wait!”

She stopped, turning to see Anthony racing down the stairs towards her. Instinctually, she stiffened, pulling Charles away and behind her, so that she was in front of him. Between him and Anthony. And her son glanced up at her, confused, sensing something was off. 

She was prepared to ignore him, turning to leave as she’d intended to, but Anthony grabbed her wrist and tugged her back, forcing her to stop. Forcing her to look back at him. To see the distraught look of shock on his face.

“I-I didn’t know,” he told her. “I swear I didn’t know.”

As much as she didn’t want to believe him, Sophie knew he was telling the truth. The pained, stunned look in his eyes. The disbelief. And how would he have known. 

The realization that he had kicked a pregnant woman — one who’d been pregnant with his own brother’s child — to the curb like she was a bag of month’s old trash. It must have been quite a shock from his perspective. 

But it didn’t do much to sway Sophie's opinion of him. This was still the man who had thrown her out of Ben’s apartment. Told her never to contact him again. This was the same man who had threatened her with legal action if she dared approach him or his family again. 

And now all of the sudden he was what? Feeling guilty?

Sophie pulled her arm out of his grip, quickly stepping away from him. Her arm stretched out and around Charles’ protectively. 

“Well, there’s nothing that can be done about it, now is there? Good day, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said curtly back, before turning and snatching Charles’ arm again, dragging him down the block as fast as she could. 

She marched down the street, face hot and angry tears building in her eyes, she found herself not only at a loss, but feeling that same gut wrenching pain from six years ago as it came brimming back to the surface. 

What the fuck had just happened?

“Mama?” Charles said quietly behind her, but she couldn’t hear him. Her ears were filled with static.

Of all things. Of all fucking things to happen today. To add to the already increasingly stressful SNAFU she’d found herself in. Life had to add Anthony fucking Bridgerton to the list of her problems to. Had to make him Neddy’s father and Kate’s husband. 

And Benedict’s brother!

She should have seen this coming. She had, in a way. She knew he worked there. Had known for years he worked at Bridgebury with his brother, but when she’d started, Agatha had told her he was on a work trip. One that had gotten longer as the days had gone by. There had been time to figure things out, but now? 

He was the father to her son’s new best friend. Making Neddy Charlies’ cousin. Making Kate his aunt .

“Mama, that hurts.”

This was insane. It wasn’t possible. God had to be punishing her for something. 

Because how the fuck could he–

“Mama, you're hurting me!” Charles cried out, loudly.

Sophie blinked, stopping dead in her tracks, and immediately let go of her son, realizing she’d been gripping his little wrist tightly as she practically dragged him down the road. Turning to face him, Sophie found her son was pouting, eyes big and sad as he rubbed at his now red wrist.

“Oh! Oh, my little baby bee! I’m so sorry,” Sophie quickly apologized, crouching down and pulling him into a tight hug. She then pulled away and took his sore wrist in her hands, pressing quick, gentle kisses to the skin. “Eomma is so so sorry.” 

“It’s okay, mama,” Charles said, sniffling. “Are you okay?”

“I am sweetheart. Mama’s just–” she stopped, trying to find the words. 

She couldn’t explain any of this to him. There was no way she could explain any of this to him. 

So, Sophie took a deep breath and forced a smile. “I’m fine, baby,” she told Charles and kissed his cheek. “Eomma’s just tired.”

“Then Eomma needs to take a nap,” Charles told her, bluntly, and Sophie blinked in surprise before finding herself bursting out into laughter. Charles only frowned as he continued. “That’s what I do when I’m tired.”

Sophie only kissed his cheek again, smiling. “Really? Because I recall a certain someone being very argumentative the last time he had to go to bed early.” 

“Because bedtime is different,” Charles explained with a huff and a pout. “Naptime means cuddling with mama.”

“Uh-huh? Does this mean you will listen to Mama and go to bed on time tonight?" she asked, a brow raised.

Charles' pout deepened as he thought it over for a second. Brows furrowing into a sharp arrow.

"Maybe," he finally declared and Sophie laughed.

Putting her hands under his armpits, Sophie lifted her son into her arms, needing to have him close suddenly. To hold him. And Charles had no issue with it, wrapping his arms around her neck and snuggling into her, hugging her like a little koala baby would its mother. 

“I love you, baby. You know that, right?” Sophie said into Charles’ hair.

“I know, mama. I love you too,” Charles returned, tightening his hold on her. 

Sophie kissed the top of his head. Shifting his backpack further up her shoulder, she then got Charles held in front of her, his growing legs around her hips. Her son now heavier than he used to be, it was a bit of a monetary struggle but she was able to find a good position to carry him in, before she continued on down the street. 

He was back on his feet by the time they got to the Cafe. The bell jingled lightly over their heads as they stepped into the restaurant. 

There were a few other patrons inside, scattered around the room. Early Saturdays weren’t usually a rush period for the Crabtree Cafe, but they would soon. It’s why Sophie and Charles would always come around this time. Usually Sophie was around to help out if needed, even if her godparent’s told her they didn’t need it. 

Sophie suspected the place would get busier within the next hour. And judging how she only saw Marilla in the front, Thomas was probably in the kitchen helping prepare the food and get ready for said influx of customers.

“There you two are!” Marilla called out cheerfully from where she was standing behind the counter, smiling brightly at them as they entered the small hole in the wall the Crabtrees had been running for the past few decades.

“Hi, Nana!” Charlie called back as he pulled away from Sophie and rushed to give his surrogate grandmother a hug.

Marilla leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Charles, giving him a quick squeeze and a kiss on the head, before letting go. As she leaned back and looked over at Sophie, she frowned. 

“Sophie, sweetheart, are you alright?” she asked, stepping around the counter and out towards her. Placing the back of her hand on Sophie’s forehead. “You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” Sophie assured quickly, not realizing the shock of meeting Anthony again must have still been apparent to her. 

“Mama said she’s tired,” Charlie suddenly interjected, exposing her without a second thought, and Sophie sighed. 

Marilla’s head snapped towards her at the news, looking worried suddenly, as she waited for an answer. For an explanation.

“I’m fine,” she repeated with another sigh. “Really. Just thinking about work.”

But Marilla only shook her head at this. “They are going to work you to death, honestly. And after Thursday. It’s not healthy,” she told her with a tut, turning back towards the counter as she began heading towards the kitchen. “You and Charles take a seat. I’ll get you some nice hibiscus tea to start. Put your feet up and relax hun, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Sophie doubted she could ‘put her feet up’ per say with other customers around, but she took a seat with Charles at a table in the back. Their usual spot. 

As she and Charles settled in, Marilla soon returned with a few mugs of steaming hibiscus tea the color of dark cherries. While Sophie was lost in thought. Wondering how she was going to handle tomorrow’s work day with Anthony now back. And aware she was working there. 

Was she even going to have a job tomorrow?

“Now what’s gotten your head so far up in the clouds?” Marilla asked as she took a seat across from her. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Sophie assured her.

Marilla raised a dark brow as she brought her own mug to her lips and took a sip. Silently making it clear she did not believe her. 

“Charlie, sweetheart,” Marilla said to her grand godson. “Why don’t you go see if Pop-pop is ready with the food?”

Charles nodded, putting down his crayon, before slowly slipping off his chair and disappearing into the kitchen. He knew the restaurant well enough, and knew where to find his grandfather. And he knew to only stay in the opening doorway that led into the kitchen, but it put some distance between him and them. 

“Alright, what’s going on?” Marilla asked, serious now, once Charles was out of earshot. 

“I’ve just–” Sophie stopped, sighing. “I’ve just been thinking. A lot . About everything that happened with Charles’ father.”

Marilla frowned. “Why?”

Sophie hesitated. Thomas had always been the more forgiving of her godparents. Marilla was a one and done type of woman. Burn the bridge once and it stays burned. Not chance of rebuilding. After everything that happened with Benedict, Marilla had considered that chapter closed. Her opinion of the Bridgerton set.

And Sophie had most certainly not told Marilla about her now working with him. God bless her godmother’s ineptitude when it came to technology. That was the only thing protecting her from learning the news on her own. 

“I don’t know if I should…maybe forgive him,” Sophie finally said. “For what happened. Maybe reach out and let him know…about Charles.”

“Really?” Marilla said with a slight judgemental hum.

“Marilla–” Sophie started, knowing where her godmother was about to go with this. 

“I just don’t if that is a good idea,” her godmother quickly declared, cutting her off.

Sophie sighed and bit the inside of her cheek. She knew this would be how her godmother would react, and knew Marilla would be against it. This was a conversation she had to have with her slowly. And delicately.

But with the sudden appearance of Anthony, with everything else Sophie had learned in recent weeks, she was beginning to wonder about Benedict’s role in all of this. How much of a say he had truly had in the decision to abandon her and Charles. Which had slowly come to reveal that he had nothing to do with it. Leaving Sophie with the decision of telling him about Charles. 

But that was opening a door Sophie wasn’t one hundred percent confident should be opened. Or how. She’d probably look like a crazy person if she just walked into his office and dropped all of this information on him. And there was the issue of Anthony. 

“He abandoned you,” Marilla said, snapping Sophie from her thoughts. Her godmother reached out and  rested a wrinkled hand on hers. “He made his choice.”

“But–”

“Has he ever reached out? Has he ever apologized? Has he ever sent a birthday gift? Has he ever bothered to learn anything about his son?” Marilla questioned her knowingly. 

“I just wonder how much of that was his decision,” Sophie argued, desperately not wanting to tell her that she now worked with Benedict. “Or if it was his family’s.”

She was very much under the opinion now that it was Anthony who had decided this. Not Benedict. 

“Well, is that a family you wanted to be connected with?” was her godmother’s response. 

Now, that was the question, wasn’t it? Anthony had made it quite clear he wanted nothing to do with her. He was someone who wanted her as far away from his family as possible. For what reason, Sophie had no clue, but she could guess. Her background wasn’t exactly squeaky clean. And wasn’t something those of the upper echelons would be interested in an association with. In being related to.

Maybe Marilla was right. Her own family, her own stepfamily, had wanted nothing to do with her. And she had no idea how the rest of Benedict’s family would feel if they discovered she was the mother of his child. If they even knew she existed. She didn’t know if Anthony had told anyone else about her, Benedict’s other siblings. His mother. She’d only met two other siblings and as far as she could tell, they hadn’t seemed to know of her or Charles. 

But what if they did? How would they react once they found out? That was something Sophie didn’t have an answer to. 

Was it even worth it telling Benedict? What if they wanted Charles but not her? What if they took Charles from her? She might have been tainted, stained by her past, but Charles wasn’t. 

“I don’t know,” Sophie told her godmother, chewing her lip nervously. “I really don’t know.”

“I’m not going to tell you what to do with your life,” Marilla said. “But I just want you to be safe. I don’t want you getting hurt again.” 

“I know.”

Marilla paused, no doubt noticing Sophie growing quieter, and she sighed. 

“It’s your decision,” she told her. “And I will stand by you no matter what you choose, just be careful, sweetheart. That’s all I ask.”

“I will,” Sophie replied.

Her godmother opened her mouth, probably wanting to either apologize or get one last reminding nag in, or to just make sure Sophie was okay, but Thomas had arrived with their meal. Followed closely by an excited Charles, that she had to leave it be for now. 

And for Sophie, she tried not to let it get to her, tried to not be distracted. But her mind was stuck in a roundabout. The question of Benedict caught on her thoughts once again. 

And what exactly it was she’d do now. 

Chapter Text

[ Monday ] 

Sophie wasn’t in. 

She’d taken a PTO, according to Agatha, who had only begrudgingly told Benedict this when she found him standing awkwardly in front of Sophie’s empty desk. Waiting for her. 

“She called out this morning,” Agatha said as she was rolled past him. “Head cold. Didn’t sound well either.” 

Benedict’s body deflated, shoulders slumping. He shouldn’t have been surprised. She practically fled the office when she saw him on Friday. And he’d spent the whole weekend thinking about what had happened between them. His stomach tied in a tight knot, with no signs of loosening. 

Not that his family would have let him.

He’d been corned by the four of them at brunch. And Kate (who’d told them all what happened). And Penelope. It was six against one, and not one of his brothers had come to his aid when they saw him surrounded in the hallway. Simon had promptly spun around and abandoned him without a second thought when he accidently walked in. The bastard. And Colin purposefully avoided his eye from where he’d been sitting on the couch, with full view of them arguing in the hallway via the doorway. 

“You made her miss her son’s birthday?!” Daphne had said, aghast.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Francesca added.

“Did your accident make you lose IQ points as well as your memories?” was Hyacinth’s insult. 

“Are you fucking mad?” Eloise hissed furiously at the same time, before punching him in the arm. 

Pinned against a wall like an insect in a box, he could do nothing but take it. Let his siblings burn off steam so they didn’t do any of this in front of their mother and she accidentally found out. So far, she seemed to be completely unaware of his massive, jealousy fueled fuck up, but he was certain even she’d have his head if she found out how he’d behaved. 

“I raised you better than this,” he was certain she’d tell him if she found out. 

Thankfully, she still had no idea. But Benedict was still left trying to fix the mess he’d created, before his mother found out. 

Only, he didn’t really know how to. 

Usually, he was a lot better about keeping his emotions in check and not letting something as ridiculous as jealousy get to him, but now, with Sophie, it was like he could think straight long enough to formulate a half decent idea. He’d short circuit every time he saw her, his mind sputtering to a stop like a car out of gas. His heart would start beating like he was some schoolyard boy with their first crush.

And then he’d gone and mucked it up. 

There was one person who could probably help him, since his sisters were currently icing him out as punishment, but that same individual had sided with his sisters in his matter. Had been the one to tell them what happened. She had technically sided with Sophie, given how they’d slowly been becoming friends over the past few weeks. Benedict was currently number one on her shit list. 

A temporary issue though. Thankfully, Benedict knew exactly how to get back in her good graces. 

There were some whispers as he walked through the office. A few side glances from the paralegals and entry level lawyers. A few giggles from the assistants as he was spotted walking past the break room. Something was going on, given the sudden excitement Benedict’s appearance was eliciting from the others, but it wasn’t enough for Benedict to notice. He merely continued down the hallways and round the corners, till he got to Kate’s office. Where Alice was sitting at her desk in front of the door, typing away on her computer.

“Is she in?” he asked Alice.

“She’s in,” Alice replied sweetly, without looking up. 

Kate’s secretary wasn’t one to get involved in Bridgerton family drama, but her lack of eye contact told Benedict exactly who’s side she’d taken in this matter. Benedict didn’t believe Kate would have told the entire office what had happened between him and Sophie, that would be inappropriate and Kate also frowned upon the staff gossiping about their boss (even if she was currently pissed at one of them), but his sister-in-law would most likely tell a select few individuals in the office what had occurred. Like her secretary for instance. 

“Thanks,” he told her politely, before opening the door and walking in.

Kate waited till he’d stepped into the office and shut the door behind him. Raising a sharp brow and asking. 

“And what do you want?”

He knew the routine. He’d done it before. Knew exactly what he was going to do to make it up to her so she would at least begrudgingly help him. But even with this knowledge, Benedict sighed. 

This was going to be so embarrassing. 

“Should I get on my knees now or later?” he asked.

Kate pursed her lips for a moment and thought it over. “Doing it now might work in your favor,” she then remarked, lifting her chin up proudly as she spoke. 

“Might as well get it over with,” Benedict muttered to himself, taking a few steps into the room before slowly lowering himself down to his knees. Clearing his throat, Benedict then took a deep breath. 

“Oh great Kathani–” he started to announce. 

“Hold on, hold on. I need to get my phone out,” Kate quickly interrupted and reached down behind her desk to grab her purse. 

Benedict sighed. Again. Christ above. The things he did for love. 

He waited for his sister-in-law to get herself ready. After she pulled out the device, she quickly turned on the camera and began recording him, holding the phone out in front of her to guarantee she had the evidence of this forever.  

“Okay. Continue,” she then ordered, waving a hand. 

“Oh great Kathani Bridgerton-Sharma. Defender of Woman and Kicker of Bridgerton Son Asses,” he declared in an over dramatic tone, to which Kate only rolled her eyes and continued filming him. “Please forgive me for my slight against your fellow woman kind and show mercy towards me in your punishment.”

“I don’t know. You were quite the asshole.” 

“I will admit that my moral failings are no one else’s fault by my own and that I am, in fact, a massive asshole.”

“Say it again for the camera.”

He held back an annoyed groan, biting down on the inside of his cheek. Sometimes she was worse than his biological sisters. Benedict then said, loudly. 

“I am a. Massive. Asshole.” 

“Good. Good,” Kate told him. “But that’s not enough.”

“Seriously?”

“What exactly would be in it for me?” Kate then asked, indignant.

Benedict took another deep breath. He’d come prepared. 

“When Anthony was fifteen he stole one of our father’s cigars and smoked it on the back patio with his girlfriend Sienna in an attempt to impress her. But because he’d never smoked before, he ended up choking on his own spit and accidentally set our mother’s prized hydrangeas aflame,” Benedict told her. Knowing blackmail material and fine silk blouses were the easiest way to Kate’s heart. “The incident was blamed on our neighbor Mr. Jones, who our mother hated and who she later took revenge on by pouring weed killer over his rose bushes in the middle of the night.”

Kate hummed, thinking it over for a second. “And your mother never realized it was him?”

Benedict shook his head. “Sienna gave Anthony an alibi. She gave him many alibis during their relationship.” 

His sister-in-law took another second to think it over, whether the information he’d provided would be useful on a later date or not, before nodding. Finding that it would in fact be useful for her to know. 

“Alright. I will forgive you,” she told him, shutting off her phone.

“Thank Christ,” Benedict muttered and pushed himself back up onto his feet, so that he was standing again. His knees had begun to ache. 

“But you’re still on thin ice,” Kate quickly added, pointing a sharp, wine purple, painted nail at him. 

“I wouldn’t expect otherwise with you,” he retorted back, brushing imaginary dirt from his knees, and Kate only narrowed her eyes at him.

“Do you want my help or not?”

“You think I would be here if I didn’t?”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, sit down,” she ordered, annoyed, pointing at the chair in front of her desk. 

Obliging quickly, Benedict slumped into the chair in front of her, before glancing around the large office, realizing something was missing. 

“Miles with Anthony today?” he asked, noting his little nephew’s absence.

Kate shook her head. “Violet has him. She’s picking up Edmund for me today.” 

Benedict nodded back his understanding. “Listen, I am sorry about what happened,” he told her, moving the conversation along.

“That’s nice of you to say. But I’m not the one you should be apologizing to. Have you told Sophie this yet?” was Kate’s curt response.

“I would have Friday, if you’d let me,” he replied flatly, giving her a look. “And I tried this morning but now she’s out today as well.”

Kate matched his look with an annoyed one of her own. “Given your behavior towards her, I’m not surprised she needed some time away from you. And, on Friday, I thought it best to give her some space before you cornered her again and forced her to forgive you.”

“I wasn’t going to force her to forgive me!” Benedict shot at her, appalled. 

“You could have fooled me,” Kate snapped. “Knowing you you wouldn’t have left her alone until she agreed to forgive you and that sure as hell isn’t how you get someone's forgiveness. I can’t force Sophie to forgive you – and I won’t ! You made this bed so you have to live with the consequences.”

Defeated, Benedict slumped down further into the chair he was in. Running a hand over his face as he tried to come up with a solution. She was right. He hated that she was right. 

“I feel horrible about what happened. I do. I didn’t know about the kid,” he told her, calmer now. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

Kate only sighed. “And I have no doubt about that. I know deep down you’re a good guy, Benedict. You’re also just an inconsiderate idiot.” 

“Thanks,” he deadpanned. 

“What did I say about thin ice?” was his sister-in-law’s warning response, a sharp brow raised like the sharp blade of a guillotine and Benedict sighed. 

“Do you have any recommendations?” he asked her.

“Apologizing to her might be the first step,” Kate told him. 

“I know that,” Benedict said, taking a deep breath. 

She was never going to forgive him. He was certain Sophie would want nothing to do with him and fine, he could live with that, as long as he was at least able to apologize to her first. 

He could live with her hating him. He just wasn’t sure he could live without her. 

“Dinosaurs?”

Benedict glanced over at her. “What?”

“Dinosaurs,” Kate repeated. “Sophie’s son loves them. Knows everything there is to know about them too. You should have seen him at the Natural History Museum, he was a little walking encyclopedia. You want to get back in her good graces. Start by trying to make it up to her kid.” 

He could do that. 

“Thank you,” Benedict said.

“You’re welcome,” Kate replied, a little smug, before adding. “But if Sophie doesn’t forgive you know that I am on her side. I like her far more than I like you.”

“I expected,” Benedict told her, rising from his seat. “I should go. I have to catch Anthony before our meeting with the Fifes.”

“All good?” 

Benedict nodded. “He just wanted me to catch him up on everything that’s happened while he was gone,” he told her. “Shouldn’t take too long.”

—

There was a loud screech from the ancient speaker system as she rang the doorbell, making her cringe from the scratchy, high pitched noise. Violet was quite certain the school needed to invest in a new system. And soon. It was barely holding on, crackling to life as a static layered voice came through. 

“St. Charlotte’s. How can I help you?” a young, feminine voice came through the speaker to ask. 

“Um, yes, hi. It’s Violet Bridgerton,” she said into the speaker. “I’m here to pick up my grandson, Edmund. His mother called earlier to say I’d be fetching him today.”

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?” the speaker asked back.

“Violet Bridgerton,” she repeated.

There was a pause. “Sorry, can you say it one more time?”

“Violet. Bridgerton,” she repeated. Louder this time. Enunciating now too.

Another pause. “One moment,” the speaker then said and it was followed by a loud buzzing noise as the door unlocked. 

Violet pushed the heavy door and held it open with one arm as she pushed the pram in with the other, before stepping into St. Charlotte’s main building. Having been here many times before, she quickly made her way down to where she knew the room used for aftercare was. 

After a few minutes of waiting outside the classroom, the door opened and Violet smiled, glancing over, excited to see her little grandson appear. She could finally get another picture of him in his adorable little uniform. 

But it wasn’t Edmund. It was a different little boy standing in the doorway, holding the teacher’s hand. A teacher Violet also didn’t recognise. 

Dressed in his uniform with a spiderman backpack that was hanging far off his back the way it looked rather big for him. Somehow, after a long day at school, the boy’s uniform was still in perfect order. Not a crease or stain on it. Still smooth and tucked in. His hair was also in perfect order, not a single curl or hair out of place. 

And while Violet knew better than anyone that it was rude to stare but she couldn’t help it. 

The little boy looked exactly like Benedict.

Only the eyes were different. Deep hooded eyes with the irises like pieces of tiger’s eye, instead of the aquamarines her son had inherited, stared back up at her. Everything else was the same though. The same dark brown almost black hair that even at a short length gently curled ever so slightly at the tips, each one a perfect little half moon shape, with the sides having been shaved short. He had the same cherub lips Benedict had had when he was little. A long, oval shaped face with rosy, apple cheeks. That familiar crooked smile. 

And Edmund’s nose. His nose looked just like her late husband’s and Benedict had taken so much after his father, much more than his siblings had. So much it still took her by surprise sometimes, whenever she saw him. 

It was alarming how much this little boy reminded her of her son. 

A little boy who frowned back at her, confused, when he saw her. The happy smile he’d had when he approached the door disappeared in a puff of smoke as he looked up at the teacher and said. 

“That’s not my Nana.”

The teacher blinked and looked down at him in surprise. “It’s not?”

“My Nana has gray hair and wears glasses. And her name is Marilla Crabtree,” the boy explained simply. “And I don’t have any other Nana’s but her.”

Violet was still so taken aback by the sight of little Mini-Benedict, that it took her a moment to realize the teacher, a woman she suspected was new, was now looking at her for an explanation. 

“I’m here to pick up Edmund,” she said quickly, clarifying. Putting on a polite smile. “Edmund Bridgerton-Sharma. I’m his grandmother, Violet.”

“Bridgerton?! Oh, oh I’m so sorry. The speaker has been acting up lately, I must have misheard,” the teacher said. “One moment.”

The teacher, now flustered and embarrassed, quickly disappeared back into the classroom. Accidentally leaving Mini-Benedict behind, standing by the door with her. And he was still watching her, staring inquisitively up at her. Studying her the way Benedict always had a painting whenever she’d taken him to the art museum when he was little. Eyes narrowed like he was studying every little detail. Judging it. 

“Hello?” she finally said politely.

“You’re very pretty,” Mini-Benedict remarked.

“Oh! Well, thank you,” Violet replied, touched. “You’re a very handsome little boy.”

Mini-Benedict thanked her with a small smile and polite nod, before studying her for a few more seconds, brows furrowed and his head tilted to the side. “Are you Neddy’s Nana?” he then asked her. 

She nodded. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“I like Neddy,” Mini-Benedict told her. “We play knights and dragons on the playground, and have play-dates now. Our mamas plan them.”

Violet cocked her head slightly, recalling how her young grandson had recently told her many stories about his new best friend. A friend he’d made on his first day at school. Who helped him with his schoolwork and always shared his lunch with. Who he always played knights and dragons with and had been having playdates with. Kate had told her he was a lovely little boy and his mother was just as sweet. But what was the name again? She was certain she knew it. Someone else in the family had had it. 

“Oh! Are you Charlie?” she asked him, remembering Neddy telling her his new best friend’s name. And what a wonderful little name it was. Had been her father-in-law’s name. 

Mini-Benedict nodded excitedly at her. “Yes,” he then puffed out his chest, proudly lifting up his chin. “I’m Charles Benjamin Baek.” Then, as quickly as his confidence had appeared, he suddenly got a little bashful, as if worried he’d been too bold, smiling shyly up at her, all innocent and sweet. “But everyone calls me Charlie.”

He looked like Benedict and had his personality too. All that confidence and charm, that radiating sweetness, it practically melted Violet’s already soft heart. She was almost about to start cooing over him. He reminded her of her second born when he was still a tiny little thing. How absolutely adorable he was. How easily he had her wrapped around his finger. 

Benedict was such a sweet looking child, with an even sweeter disposition. And he’d been such an easy child too, always happy and giggling, following either her or Anthony around the house like a little duckling. Nothing upset him. Especially when he was with her. She’d been his favorite person when he was small. The second being Anthony and the third Edmund, much to her husband’s annoyance. He’d been part of the reason why she and Edmund had more than the two children they’d agreed to when they’d married (besides Violet’s perpetual baby obsession as her husband had put it once).

And, goodness, little Charles just made her wish she had more grandchildren to spoil. Maybe she could nag Colin into proposing to Penelope. They had been dating for a year and a half so now was better than ever. Especially since Benedict was being so difficult about–

“Mama!” Charles suddenly cried out excitedly, a big smile spreading on his face as he spotted someone behind Violet and raced forward out the classroom towards them.

Violet turned to see a young woman with dark hair pulled back and pinned with a clip, approaching the classroom. Dressed in jeans, a soft, grey, knitted sweater and a thick overcoat. Violet could have sworn she recognized her from somewhere, but she just couldn’t place where. She was pretty too, with soft and delicate features, but tired eyes. The poor woman looked exhausted. 

Seeing the little boy rush towards her, the woman crouched down to greet him as he barreled into her, an equally bright smile on her face as there was on Charles’. 

“Oh, hello my little bumblebee,” she said happily, as she gave him a tight, squeezing hug and a crushing kiss on the cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

Her mind still thinking of Benedict, Violet glanced down just to check and noticed there was no ring on the woman’s left hand. An immediate plus. All she had to do now was just get a verbal confirmation. 

And while Violet knew her son had mentioned he was interested in a new assistant working for Agatha, Hyacinth had told her the night before they’re had been some recent drama between the two. All her daughters (including Kate and Penelope) had seemed furious with him at Sunday brunch, glowering at him and giving backhanded remarks whenever he asked them something simple like to pass the butter, much to her son’s annoyance. No one had told her what though and wouldn’t when she asked. Anthony had seemed too distracted to realize what was going on between his siblings, and she doubted he would know after just getting back, and Colin had flatly told her he wasn’t ever going to get involved in Benedict’s love life after the fiasco that had been Benedict’s summer fling with Tessa, who he’d met taking summer art classes at the nearby university. One she was attending when he’d been about to start sixth form. Because her children were sometimes adamant in putting her into an early grave. 

Since Benedict wouldn’t take her advice, Violet supposed she could help push him along. If it didn’t work out with the secretary, well, maybe she could make a few suggestions . She just had to find some first.

Ms. Baek though. She could be a good match for Benedict. He was so wonderful with children, had been with his siblings when they were little and especially now with his nieces and nephews, she doubted a single mother would be a deal breaker for him. And the boy was friends with Neddy, meaning it would be quite easy for her to find ways to get them to meet. 

Belinda did have a birthday party coming up.

But none of this explained why Ms. Baek looked so familiar. 

“I’m sorry,” she started and Ms. Baek looked up. “Have we met before?” 

Ms. Baek frowned, confused, and shook her head. “I don’t believe so, no.”

“Grandma!” Neddy’s voice then rang out as her little grandson rushed out of the room behind her and into her legs, wrapping his little arms around them. 

“Oh. Your Neddy’s…grandmother?” Ms. Baek commented, frowning. She blinked, surprised, before shifting awkwardly. Suddenly looking very uncomfortable. 

“My apologies for the mix up, ma’am,” the teacher said suddenly as she reappeared. 

“Grandma!” Neddy repeated happily as he beamed up at her from where he was now wrapped around her legs, giving her a big toothy smile.

“Hello my darling,” Violet cooed excitedly, crouching down to hug him. “How are you?”

“Are you picking me up today?” her grandson asked.

“I am, yes,” Violet replied, smiling. “I told your Amma to keep it a surprise but I thought you and I could spend the afternoon together with Miles. Get some little desserts for you to take home.”

Neddy cheered, letting go of her to take her hand instead. “Can we invite Charlie?” he then asked her, sweetly. 

“Well, that depends on if he and his mother are free,” Violet told him, turning to look towards Ms. Baek. 

“Oh! Um…” Ms. Baek frowned as she tried to find the words.

“Can we, Mama?” Charlie excitedly asked next to her, bouncing up and down. “Please. Please. Please.”

“I’m not sure, sweetie,” Ms. Baek said. “I promised Nana I’d help her at the Cafe today.” 

“Well, we can probably at least walk with you,” Violet suggested, spotting the shaky pout beginning to build on her little grandson’s face. 

Ms. Baek blinked, staring at her like a deer in headlights, before shaking off her surprise. 

“Um, sure. That should be alright,” she said. 

As she spoke, Neddy had jumped onto the little board attached to the stroller and peered down into the pram. Where Miles was currently laying. 

“Hi Miles,” he said to his baby brother, lifting a hand up and waving. But Miles was currently fast asleep, gently snoozing without a care in the world, blissfully unaware his older brother was saying hello to him. 

Once he’d greeted his brother, as Neddy always did when he was picked up from school, Violet’s grandson hopped down from the board and rushed over to his friend’s side, so that they could walk next to each other. The pair had quickly descended into playful chatter amongst themselves as they began heading down the hallway. 

“I’m Violet by the way,” Violet said, sticking her hand out towards Ms. Baek.

“Sophie,” the woman replied, taking her hand and giving it a light shake. 

“What a lovely name,” Violet remarked, beginning to push the pram and follow the boys down the hall. Sophie walked in pace next to her. “What do you do for a living, Sophie?” 

“I’m a secretary.”

“Oh! I used to be a secretary. Back when I met my husband. Where do you work?”

“Um…Bridgebury,” Sophie answered after a moment. 

“Oh!” Violet remarked, perking up as she realized. Sophie was the name Benedict had told her. “You wouldn’t work for Agatha Danbury would you?”

“I’m actually her new assistant.”

“Then I’m sure you’ve met my sons?”

“I have. Yes,” Sophie replied simply, face expressionless. 

“They haven’t been giving you any problems have they?” Violet asked jokingly. 

“No, not at all,” was Sophie’s tight and quick response. 

They had to pause the conversation when they got to the front door, Sophie stepped in front of all of them to open it, holding the heavy door open for them to all get out. For which Violet thanked her. 

What a pleasant surprise, running into the very woman who’d caught her son’s affections. The world could work in mysterious ways sometimes. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe it was fate! Oh, wouldn’t that make all of this so much more romantic. 

And maybe, since she had her, Violet could put in a good word for him.

She just had to find the right moment.

“They seem to be two peas in a pod,” Violet said, nodding towards her grandson and Charlie, who were both giggling as they walked ahead of them.

“Yes, they are,” Sophie commented, looking fondly at the two, but Violet was certain for a second she’d detected sadness. 

“They remind me of my two oldest,” Violet told her, continuing. “Most people don’t know this but Anthony and Benedict hated each other when they were little.”

“Really?” 

Violet nodded. “It wasn’t too bad when they were babies. Benedict would follow Anthony everywhere. He wanted to do everything with his big brother, but Anthony was…well–” She laughed. “He could be a bit of a dictator at times. Everything had to go his way. And as he got older, Benedict got the same Bridgerton stubbornness as his brother and I think he just got tired of listening to Anthony’s commands. Oh, it was horrendous those years. They used to go at each other like two stray cats in a bag whenever they had a disagreement.”

An unstoppable force meets an unmovable object Edmund used to tell her, usually when they were in the middle of struggling trying to separate Anthony and Benedict, one being wrestled down by Edmund and the other being dragged from the room by Violet. God, the amount of fine china they’d lost over during that period. They could never leave the two alone together. 

“What changed?” Sophie asked. “They seem so close now. From what I’ve heard.”

“Benedict grew three inches on Anthony and kept growing,” Violet told her. “Anthony couldn’t use him like a chair anymore. That and it wasn’t just the two of them anymore. They had younger siblings to keep an eye out and found themselves suddenly outnumbered. I think they realized it was better to team up then go at it alone.” 

“That’s good,” Sophie commented politely as she continued to keep pace with Violet and the pram.

“Benedict is also wonderful with children,” Violet added, a bit too quickly. “He was always so good with his younger siblings. Especially after my late husband passed.” 

Sophie only hummed a response, her eyes trained on the sidewalk in front of her. She’d been almost suspiciously quiet during their walk. As if she wasn’t one hundred percent present. But Violet merely surmised she was just a quieter person, like Francesca. 

“And it looks like this is us,” Violet announced as they arrived next to her sleek, Cadillac SUV parked perfectly in its spot next to the sidewalk. 

“Say ‘good-bye’ Charlie,” Sophie gently instructed. 

“Bye, Neddy,” Charles quickly said as he hugged his friend. 

“Bye, Charlie. See you tomorrow,” Neddy returned as he hugged back. 

“Do you need any help?” Sophie offered, waving a hand towards the pram in front of Violet. 

But Violet only shook her head. “Oh no, thank you. I might look old, but I’ve got a lot of experience with these things. You’d be surprised. I’ll have these two and the pram in the car in record time.”

“Oh…alright.”

“Well, it was lovely meeting you,” she then told her as she lifted Miles from the pram. Her baby grandson briefly began to wake up, giving a rather miffed sounding breath as he was rudely jostled from his afternoon snooze, before Violet brought him against her chest and he went straight back to sleep.

Sophie smiled politely. “You too. Have a good afternoon.”

Violet returned the smile with one of her own and watched for a few seconds as the young woman continued making her way down the street with her son. A little boy who began to babble excitedly up to her about his day as they walked, while his mother listened fondly. 

What a lovely young woman, Violet thought to herself as she opened the car door and helped Neddy into the car as she put Miles in his car seat first.

Now, why did she seem so familiar?

Chapter Text

“So, yeah. I’m pretty sure Fife is going to be giving us a hell of a lot of shit for this.”

Anthony sighed. “Well, he’s got no right. That’s for sure. Not have the crap he pulled during Brown's divorce.” 

“I’m really sorry, Anth,” was Benedict’s response. “It won’t happen again.”

His brother only waved him off. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” he told him. “I’ll deal with Fife.”

Benedict sighed and slumped a little more into his seat. Just a little bit. 

He could tell from concerned furrow brows and the twisted mouth on his brother’s face that Anthony was annoyed by the predicament they were now in due to Rosamund’s error, but that he wouldn’t tell Benedict he was. And his brother had a soft spot for Rosamund ever since she saved his life all those years ago. 

“Is there anything else I need to be aware of?” his brother then asked. 

“Other than that everything else has been fine,” was Benedict’s response. 

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

“Positive?”

Benedict frowned. “Yes. It’s been pretty boring.”

“I thought you said you were interested in a secretary?” Anthony said and Benedict paused.

He had told his brother about that. Because their darling mother had told him first. And because Benedict could never catch a break.

Coughing awkwardly, trying to clear his throat, he answered. “Sophie. Danbury’s new assistant.” 

“This…Sophie Baek. She’s the one you said you were interested in?” Anthony asked carefully, voice tight. 

Benedict sighed. “Yeah. Although I doubt it will go anywhere now.”

“Why’s that?”

Letting out a tense breath, he sighed again. “I may have messed up. Badly," he admitted, sullenly.

“Oh!...what happened?”

But Benedict could only let out another exhausted sigh. Because Anthony was another person he did not want to be getting a lecture from right now. He’d already gotten seven so far. And as much as he loved his brother, Anthony could be so infuriatingly annoying whenever he got up on his high horse. 

Maybe that came with being the second born. Him and Anthony were only two years apart. He’d been around his brother longer than the rest of their siblings and had, subsequently, put up with his bullshit the longest. 

And he said that lovingly. Anthony had been put up with his bullshit for just as long.

“I fucked up and put her in a really bad position,” Benedict explained, without really explaining what happened last week. Then, sheepishly, he added. “With her kid.”

Anthony’s eyes widened. “What?”

Oh, here we go-

“I didn’t know she had a kid,” he quickly argued, sitting up in his seat. “I just…” he stopped, sighing. “I got jealous and I took it out on her. Unjustly. She didn’t deserve that.”

His brother shifted in his chair behind his desk, jaw clenched and looking uncomfortable. Maybe even momentarily stressed. 

“Have you spoken to her since? Apologized?” he asked.

“Not yet. I’ve been trying to. I certainly plan to,” Benedict answered. 

“And she hasn’t said anything to you? About me?” Anthony asked.

Benedict let out a laugh. “Anth, she’s not currently speaking to me. So, no.”

But his brother only hummed and looked away, as he thought to himself for a moment. Leaving Benedict to watch him silently, waiting for the lecture to begin.

“Well, maybe it's for the best,” he then suggested, much to Benedict's surprise. 

“What?”

“I mean, do you really think it’s a good idea to be dating right now? With everything going on? All of the cases we're handling right now?” his brother argued. “And with a secretary no less. You know people will talk. You know what will happen if they find out your interested in her.”

Sitting motionless in his chair, Benedict could only stare at his brother, in disbelief and appalled confusion. Where the hell was this coming from? 

“Weren’t you the one who said as long as I didn’t get in trouble with HR to go for it?” he asked, frowning again.

“That was before I thought about it longer,” Anthony told him dismissively. “She’s a subordinate. Not to mention Danbury’s assistant. You think Agatha will allow you to date her?”

“Oh my God, Anthony,” Benedict remarked, exasperated, pushing himself up to his feet. This felt like the art school drama all over again. And, unlike then, Benedict was not going to sit here and listen to it till he was worn down enough to agree with his brother. 

“I’m just trying to look out for you,” Anthony quickly told him, sounding equally annoyed.

“If I wanted advice I would have asked,” Benedict told him, snappishly. “And you’re seriously going to lecture me about inappropriate workplace romances? You? The king of screwing your colleague in every available room this building has to offer? You really think I forgot about what you and Kate did in my office?”

Anthony stiffened, his cheeks going bright red as Benedict brought up the time he’d caught them, mid act, in his office at 4 in the morning. On a Saturday morning no less. After Benedict had swung by to pick up the wallet he’d accidentally left behind and was instead exposed to the most psychologically scarring moment of his thirty-three years of life.

“I said I was sorry about that. And Kate and I did pay for the cleaning,” his brother quickly argued, getting as defensive as he was embarrassed. 

“You really think disinfecting that desk was enough for me to continue using it after what you two did on it?” Benedict asked. “I practically had to replace all my furniture.” 

“You know you’re just proving my point,” was Anthony’s retort, trying to change the subject from his sex life and back to Benedict’s non existing one. 

“So, you regret being with Kate?”

“No!”

“Then why am I not allowed–?”

“I wasn’t saying you couldn’t date anyone, Benedict. I was just saying–”

“Just not to date Sophie?”

Anthony let out an annoyed breath, closing his eyes for a moment. Benedict watched as he leaned back in his chair and focused on calming himself down. Before he said something he'd regret and turn this into an argument.

“I’m just saying,” he started. “That you should be careful. I’m trying to have your back here. Maybe this incident–whatever it was that happened between you two–maybe it was a sign. That it won’t work out.”

Clenching his jaw, Benedict shook his head. “How exactly do you know that, when you weren’t even here to see what happened? When you haven't even met her?” he asked. 

He knew what was happening. He’d seen this before from his brother. Back when Daphne had started dating. Benedict knew exactly what it was that had brought on his 180 from his brother. It wasn’t because she was a secretary, it was because Anthony didn’t think Sophie was good enough for their family. A judgement he’d made without even having met her. 

This really was the art academy all over again.

“You do this all the time. Running my life for me,” he said to his brother, continuing. “Can you not just stay out of it for once? Let me screw up and fix my mistakes on my own?” 

“Ben–” Anthony started, alarmed. 

But Benedict had stopped listening. “Stay out of it, Anthony. I mean it,” he snapped as he turned to leave. “I’m going to take care of this myself.”

—

Agatha had become used to dealing with the Bridgertons. She had years of experience when it came to that family. 

And she liked the Bridgertons. As crazy as they were (and as much as a certain few of them drove her up the wall), she enjoyed their company. Anthony and Benedict were still her most competent lawyers, taking well after their father Edmund, who had been the one to convince her all those years ago to start her own firm. She couldn’t have asked for better subordinates and colleagues. 

Which was why she barely even blinked when Anthony stormed into her office like a bat out of hell.

“Good morning, Mr. Bridgerton,” Agatha said flatly, not looking up from the documents in front of her. “How was your trip?”

“You need to fire her,” Anthony snapped.

“Who exactly is it that I need to fire?” Agatha asked with a sigh, still not looking up at him as he came to stand in front of her desk.

“Ms. Baek.”

Now she looked up, her frown deepening. 

“Why on earth would I fire Ms. Baek? She’s been a model employee since she start–” she started, shocked. 

“Get rid of her.”

“I do not need to listen to–”

“ I want her gone !” Anthony snapped before she could finish.

Agatha blinked, momentarily taken aback by his aggressive tone, before her curved brows furrowed back down inot an even sharper frown. One that could probably slice through glass. Slowly, she took off the spectacles resting on the bridge of her nose, taking the time to carefully fold them before placing them gently on her desk in front of her and clasping her hands together. Her dark eyes snapping up at Anthony’s. 

“Mr. Bridgerton,” she said slowly, her dark eyes narrowing into a piercing glare. “I do not know what gave you the impression that you can just barge into my office and demand I abide by your rules but I will remind you that I am still your superior. I still hold majority control over this firm.” 

“She has no credentials that qualify her being here. I don’t even know why you thought–” Anthony started to argue and Agatha’s mouth twisted tighter as her mood soured. 

“Would you like her to sue us for wrongful termination?” she shot back at him. “I see no valid reason in letting go of an exceptional employee and that will be the outcome if we did.” 

“She’s not going to–”

“You don’t know that. She’d have every right to sue us,” Agatha snapped. “And she does in fact have the credentials to be a secretary. Something you would have learned had you taken the time to read her resume. Not to mention, I do not recall you ever having anything to do with who I hire for this firm.”

“I can go to the board if you won’t do it,” Anthony threatened. 

And that just annoyed her further. Insolent boy. Thinking he knew what was best for her. His ego had certainly made him a damn good solicator, but it also made him one of the biggest pains in the asses. One she was often stuck dealing with. 

“You would need a majority of the vote for that to work,” Agatha reminded him, curtly. “Since you do not have mine, you would need to get your mother and brother to side with you. Something I doubt either would agree with given how trivial your demand is.” 

That seemed to get through Anthony’s thick skull. The mention of his mother tended to have that effect. And he hesistated, realizing she was right, that Benedict and Violet would agree it was foolish to open themselves up to litigation like this, before he quickly shook it off and frowned again.

“I don’t need–” he started to argue once more.

But Agatha already had another card up her sleeve to help put him back in his place. 

“In fact, since I’m meeting with her for lunch tomorrow,” Agatha announced, cutting him off. She’d had enough of his foolishness for one day. “I’ll ask her myself.” 

| Tuesday | 

“Why on earth would I agree to that?” Violet asked, confused.

“That’s what I told him,” was Agatha’s reply swiftly, taking a sip of her tea. 

Violet frowned, still confused, before letting out a long, disappointed sigh. “That boy,” she tutted, before sipping some her earl grey.

They were seated in their usual tea house, down in Piccadilly, with the hustle and bustle of daily London life breezing past the large, crystal clear windows outside. The pair had been meeting here for lunch and afternoon tea for years now. It was one of Violet’s only remaining ways of finding out what her eldest children were up to sans their siblings or hearing it directly from one of those three boys’ mouths. 

And here she was finding out Anthony had been back in town for all of three days and had already brun his mouth with Agatha. Something he did at least once every six months. 

She at least thought she’d have a week.

Violet sighed. “If I can start by apologize for my son’s–”

But Agatha only held up her hand. “There is no need to, Violet. I’m certain you know I’m used to your sons behaving irrationally by now. Frankly, I enjoy when Anthony tries to step out of line with me. Gives me the excuse to put him back in his place.” 

“Has he even met this secretary of yours?” Violet asked.

“I don’t believe so, no,” was her friend’s response. 

Why on earth would he be so adamant to have her fired then? Violet was unsure she’d ever understand that boy and his motives. 

But this was a golden opportunity for her to learn more about the woman who had caught her son’s interest. Since Agatha was the one to bring it up. 

“So…this Ms. Baek,” Violet started.

Glancing up from her tea, Agatha raised a brow. “Yes.”

“She’s been working for you for some time now, right?”

“Since the end of the summer.” 

Violet hummed. “I heard her son and Edmund have become quite fast friends.”

“Have they? I was unaware,” Agatha replied, knowingly. 

“And she is single, yes?”

“As far as I am aware, Ms. Baek has never married.”

Violet blinked, surprised. “But what about the boy’s father?”

“She won’t speak of him. I asked once before but she said he wasn’t in her life anymore. Hadn’t been since before Charles was born,” Agatha explained. 

“She wasn’t widowed was she?” Violet asked, feeling a tight, sympathy tug at her heart.

“I don’t believe so, no,” Agatha replied. “She just told me he wasn’t involved.” 

“Did he abandon her?” she then asked and her friend merely shrugged, silently telling her once again she knew nothing more than what she’d told her. Then Violet shook her head. “That poor woman. To think someone would knowingly abandon them. Abandon such a lovely family. I’ll never understand it.”

“Most men are fools I’ve found,” Agatha remarked into her tea. “Not a single functioning thought in their brains half the time.” 

“Poor thing,” Violet remarked sadly. 

But then again, she had now confirmed Sophie to be single and available.

Available for her to pair up with Benedict. 

“Agatha?” she asked and her friend hummed a response back. “I wanted to make a tiny little request. One you might be able to help me with.”

“And what would that be?” Agatha asked her, a rounded brow raised as she watched her suspiciously. 

“Benedict tells me he’s interested in a secretary at Bridgebury. I thought you might be willing to help me pair them up,” Violet excitedly explained.

That only got her a frown from her old friend. “You want me to set Benedict up with Rosamund?”

“No, not Rosamund. Sophie,” Violet clarified.

Now both of Agatha's brows popped up. “Sophie?”

“Yes.”

“Sophie? My Sophie?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You want to set him up with that Sophie?”

"Yes,” Violet said, now exasperated. 

“Why?” Agatha then asked, still confused.

Because she was worried about Benedict. Worried about how lonely he seemed to be at times, even if he tried desperately to hide it from the rest of them. And this was the first person he’d shown romantic interest in years.

But she didn’t say any of that. Instead, she said.

“Because, we've spoken about this before. About how I think he should settle down and get married finally. And Ms. Baek seems like a fine young woman. I met her yesterday when I was picking up Neddy,” then she frowned. “Why did you think I was speaking about Rosamund?”

Rosamund and Benedict being together was not something Violet imagined happening. She might have once, when she first met Ms. Rosamund Li at the hospital after Benedict’s accident. She’d seemed like a sweet young lady. Always swinging by to check on her and Benedict, bringing tea and biscuits with her. She’d been very helpful and supportive to them during their hour of need. And Violet had thought it only fair that Benedict helped her get a job after it was all over. Granted, she hadn’t expected him to make her his personal secretary but she supposed he’d gotten so used to her company it would make the working relationship easier. 

But together? Romantically? That ship had sailed a very long time ago. 

Agatha waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve been hearing whispers that they were together going around in the office. I didn’t believe it myself but you know how the gossip mongers can get when they’re bored.”

“Well, he hasn’t said anything to me about her,” Violet remarked, thinking it over. She’d never once seen Benedict show a romantic interest towards Rosamund in the years she’d been working for him. 

And she wouldn’t deny there had been a brief moment where she’d hoped Benedict might have changed his mind and finally settled down, even if it was with Rosamund. But that had been before she’d met the girl’s mother. And the alarm bells had started ringing. 

She couldn’t prove it, but her gut always tightened just a little bit whenever she interacted with Araminta Gun. Maybe it was the age difference, Araminta was about a decade younger than her, but Violet had just never been able to get along with her. She was never rude to the younger woman when she saw her, but Violet had decided some time ago that it was best to keep Araminta at an arm's length. Just to be safe. 

“Maybe it was Sophie they meant,” Agatha surmised, still frowning. “Which makes even less sense.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, the two did have a bit of an incident recently.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“You didn’t hear? I thought Kate would have told you by now,” Agatha said, surprised.

“I haven’t heard anything.” Violet then frowned. Going serious she asked. “What did he do?”

“What didn’t he do?” Agatha commented with a roll of her eyes as she took a sip of her tea. “That boy of yours decided it was a wonderful idea to keep the poor woman at work late when she was supposed to be at home celebrating her son’s birthday.”

Violet gasped. “He did not?!” 

“He did,” Agatha said back, face expressionless, cup of tea still held in front of her lips so she could take another sip. “Held her hostage in the conference room. I saw it with my own eyes.” 

Violet groaned, covering her face with her hands. Mortified. First Anthony, now Benedict. Those two were going to put her in an early grave.

“Oh, when I get my hands on that boy–” she started, aghast before she paused.  

This might still just work out in her favor. If she played her cards right, Violet could work with this. Fix this. Get Ms. Baek back on board the Benedict Bridgerton train.

After she yelled at said Benedict of course. 

Oh! Oh, this was wonderful.

“You have your scheming face,” Agatha pointed out as she took a sip of her tea, brow pointedly raised. “What are you planning at now?”

Violet smiled slyly at her friend, brimming with excitement. “Oh, I think I’ve just come up with a perfect solution for dealing with that problem I was telling you about. With Benedict."

Chapter Text

| Six Years Ago |

It wasn’t much of a surprise that Violet Bridgerton (formerly Ledger) loved shopping for baby items.

Her late husband, Edmund, had always said she was baby obsessed. Proclaiming it to be the number one reason they’d ended up having so many children, the second reason being a dirtier suggestion about Violet’s love of one specific sex move she had constantly pulled on him every few years, one that, every time she’d done it, had left her pregnant weeks later. 

The suggestion had always left her aghast and shocked when he’d brought it up the first time. Insulted. Disgusted. That he would dare suggest she of all people had a kink. Impossible. She was a lady. Her parents had raised her properly. 

But she wouldn’t deny how much her heart swelled whenever she saw the chubby cheeks of a little, smiling babe. 

(And her husband had always been rather good in bed. It had always been difficult to keep her hands off him.)

Besides, she needed a little bit of retail therapy. After everything that had happened these past few months. With Benedict. 

Benedict who had gotten back on his feet without any further issues. Recovering better than the doctors could have hoped or predicted. He’d passed through physical therapy with flying colors, and all his neuro exams had come back better and better each time, enough his doctors were comfortable with him being released from the hospital only a week after he’d woken up. After that, she’d sent him to Aubrey Hall for a few months to relax and take it easy, his siblings rotating their visits to spend time with him and a physical therapist visiting twice a week to help with the leg, all while Violet and Anthony figured out how to handle his work situation. Making sure his accident and recovery reamined out of the public’s knowledge. Agatha had been an extreme help and made sure no rumors had spread, that as far as everyone was concerned Benedict was taking a short sabbatical before returning to work in the fall. 

But now he was back in London. And right in time for his birthday too. 

The four years of missing memory were still another matter though. No signs of returning yet, not even the smallest of memories had returned, but she was hopeful something would return. As was Benedict. 

But that was an issue for another day. Right now, she had to just grab the birthday cake she’d ordered and get home before Anthony and Benedict arrived back from Aubrey Hall. All of her other children were currently decorating the house for the celebration. 

That had been her plan. Grab the cake and get home ASAP. That was until she passed the newly opened baby store that had opened up on the same block as the bakery she’d been heading towards. 

And Violet wouldn’t deny she’d been drawn into the shop by the absolutely gorgeous baby mobile hanging in the window; of a mauve colored, felt whale hanging between soft clouds and shining gold stars. Besides, Daphne was now halfway through her second pregnancy, and any good mother would make sure that her daughter had all the items necessary to care for a new baby. Not to mention, Kate and Anthony had recently told they too were expecting. Quite the shock given they’d only been officially dating for a few short months now, ever since Benedict had woken up. 

So, Violet had to go in and look. She just had to. 

And that was how Violet quickly found herself perusing through the baby outfits hanging in the back of the store. Lost in her thoughts as she slid each hanger over, giving each onesie a quick look over to figure out the best one to get Daphne and Kate. She just couldn’t figure out which one though. Imagining each onesie on her new baby grandchildren, Violet was almost tempted to buy them all, even though Daphne had explicitly asked her not to buy any more clothes. Since they still had so many leftovers from Amelia they could use them as hand me downs.

“Hand me downs,” Violet tutted to herself, shaking her head as she rubbed her thumb over the soft fabric. “She should at least get some of her own clothes, shouldn’t she? It’s only fair.”

Then, there was a tap on her shoulder. 

“I…um…I hate to be a bother, but could you call an ambulance for me, please?” a soft, female voice asked weakly behind her. Violet paused, noting how panicked the calm voice sounded. “My phone’s dead.”

Turning around to see what was wrong, Violet gasped. 

A petite, young woman was standing behind her, a few inches shorter than her and looking to be around Daphne’s age. Quite pretty, yet tired, with dark under eyes and a pale, almost gaunt face. She was also pregnant, and late into her pregnancy too given her stomach looked about to burst, but that wasn’t the concerning part.

The concerning part was the dark, wet stain seeping through the woman’s navy, maternity dress, around her crotch. The thin lines of blood Violet saw sliding down her pale, exposed calves. 

“You’re bleeding,” she announced, stunned. Not knowing what else to say.  

“Um…yes,” the woman grimaced, surprisingly calm given the situation. She had to be in shock. “I-I um...I’m not really sure what’s happening. I’m sorry to bother you with this, but can you please call 999?”

But it only took a few panicked seconds of shock before Violet snapped into first aid mode. Having eight children and a husband who died from a simple bee sting had convinced Violet to take the course each year. And then some. She now always carried around an epi-pen and narcan, and always had a few additional first aid items in her purse besides band-aids. She knew exactly what needed to be done, to get this woman the help she needed, and immediately got to work. 

“Excuse me!” she quickly called out to one of the workers behind the checkout counter. “I need some help over here.”

When one of the shop employees appeared, Violet barked a quick order to them to call 999 and to get her some towels or blankets. The worker, whose eyes widened when she saw the woman’s crotch and the blood slipping down her legs, quickly pulled out her phone and called emergency services, before disappearing into the shop to try and gather the items Violet had requested. Violet then turned her attention back to the woman, who was hunched over now, grimacing.

“Sit down, sweetheart,” she told her, gently taking her by the elbows and guiding her down. She moved around to get an arm around the woman’s back as she helped lower her down to the floor, until the woman was sitting. “Now lay on your side, it will help slow the bleeding.”

“Am I having a miscarriage?” the woman asked her, panicked as she was helped to the ground by Violet.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Violet told her, reaching out and gently brushing a few loose strands off the woman’s face so they were out of her dark amber eyes. “But the ambulance will be here soon. Don’t you worry.”

The woman let out a shuddering breath. It seemed the shock had finally worn off and panic was setting in instead now, because seconds later, she began to cry.

“It’s alright,” Violet assured her. “It could be anything. And you won’t know what until you’re at the hospital and the doctors check you out.” 

“I don’t want him to die,” the woman choked out as she sob and Violet gently rubbed her back, trying to sooth and calm her down. Crying wasn’t going to help the baby right now.

“Should I call someone for you? What about the father?” Violet offered, but the woman only shook her head.

“He said he wanted nothing to do with me,” she told her between choked sobs, wiping away the tears as they slipped down her cheeks. “I haven’t heard from him since I told him I was pregnant.” 

In her chest, Violet felt her heart break. The poor woman. All alone at a time like this. 

“Is there anyone else I can call?” she then asked. 

“Um…my godparents,” the woman hiccuped. “But they're in Wiltshire visiting their daughter. I-I don’t want to disturb them.” 

“I highly doubt they will think you are disturbing them,” Violet gently told her. “Now, why don’t you tell me their names and numbers, and I’ll give them a quick ring.” 

Hesitantly, and nearly in tears as she spoke, the woman gave her the number to her godmother. And Violet was about to call, her finger hovering over the button, when the young woman whimpered. 

“I didn’t even pick a name,” she then sobbed out quietly. “God, I’m a horrible mother. I'm not even a mother.”

The woman then quickly began crying, tears slipping down the sides of her face and to her ears as she continued to say how terrible of a person she was. Something Violet couldn't sit by and agree with.

“Oh stop that now,” she gently chided, returning to rubbing the woman’s back as she tried to help her calm down. “You are most certainly not.”

“But I am,” the woman said, with a few gasped hiccups. “I don’t even know what I’m doing. I didn’t even want to keep him after everything with his father and now–”

But she only descended into another fit of guilt ridden sobs, unable to speak further, which was not going to help the baby Violet knew was going to become as distressed as its mother was. 

“I didn’t know what I was doing when I first became a mother. And frankly, I still don’t think I do. But somehow all my children have been able to make it to adulthood so far,” Violet told her with a laugh, trying to help calm her down. “No first time parent knows what they’re doing.”

That seemed to get through to the young woman, who was now focused on Violet as she tried to take some deep breaths. Something Violet helped to encourage and walk her through, all while she explained her history of motherhood and experiences. 

“Eight children later, you think I would have figured it all out by now, but my children are still able to surprise me,” Violet told her with a smile. 

The woman’s eyes widened. “That’s…a lot of labors.”

But Violet only laughed. “I learned to endure. It’s what I get for wanting so many.”

It at least got a smile from the woman. Even if it was a small one.

Then she sniffled. “You probably think I’m being ridiculous. I’m sorry,” she said to Violet, apologizing.

“Oh nonsense, I think your reaction is perfectly normal given the situation,” Violet replied, taking her hand and holding it tightly. 

The young woman quickly took a deep breath, looking like she was about to start crying again. “I just really don’t want to lose him.”

“Call it a mother’s intuition, but I don’t think you will,” she told her, soothingly, giving her hand a squeeze. “I don’t know what’s happening, but my gut tells me you’ll both be fine.”

It seemed like she’d finally been able to help the girl calm down. Preventing her from decending into another fit of panicked tears. The young woman took repeated, long, deep breaths that slowly steadied her nerves and relaxed her erratic heart. All while she continued to lay in front of Violet on the floor, one hand pressing against her stomach. 

“What names were you down to?” Violet asked, trying to keep the young woman’s mind elsewhere. “Maybe we can figure it out together.”

“Um…I don’t know,” the woman admitted softly. “Every name I came up with just didn’t fit.” 

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“My doctor said it’s a boy.”

“Well, what about Charles?” Violet suggested lightly, trying to distract her as she continued to rub her hand up and down the woman’s back. “My late father-in-law was Charles. And he was a wonderful man. My husband and in-laws all adored him. And his grandchildren too.”

The woman let out another deep, shuddering breath, thinking it over before slowly she nodded.

“Charles,” she said, still nodding. “Charles is a nice name.”

“And you can call him Charlie for short,” Violet added, smiling softly. “Or Chuck, but I like Charlie more. It sounds sweeter.” 

“I like Charlie too,” the woman agreed, sniffling. 

The bell above the door jingled as it was opened, and Violet heard the paramedics announcing their arrival, asking the shop manager where the patient was. She stepped back, allowing the paramedics to take her place as they began tending to the young woman, deciding very quickly that it was best to get her on the stretcher and in the ambulance quickly. 

As they began questioning the young woman, Violet turned to the store manager and quickly began telling them she was welcome to pay for the cleaning and the items that had been sacrificed to staunch the bleeding. Not catching the woman’s name as the paramedics asked for it. 

But she still followed them out, tending to the young woman and assuring her she would be okay. 

“Thank you,” the woman said, her hand clutched still over her stomach. 

“Take care, sweetheart,” Violet said, giving her a small wave as the paramedic lifted the stretcher into the ambulance. “Best of luck to you and the babe. I’m certain you’ll both be alright.” 

And the doors to the ambulance then closed, and Violet stepped back and up onto the sidewalk, watching as they pulled away and left. Disappearing around the corner. As she watched, a gentle trill started up from her handbag. 

Her phone.

Pulling it out, Violet saw it was a call coming in from her eldest daughter and quickly answered.

“Hello?”

“Mum? Where are you?” Daphne's voice came through as a whisper from the other end. “Anthony just texted. He’s gonna be here with Benedict any second and you’re going to miss the surprise.”

“Oh!” She’d nearly forgotten. Benedict’s birthday celebration. “Sorry, darling. I got held up by an emergency. Text your brother and see if he can delay their arrival,” she quickly told her as she began hastily making her way down the street, quickening her step. “I’m only a block away. I’ll grab the cake and be home soon.”

Chapter Text

| Present Day |

If she didn’t acknowledge him, he was probably going to remain standing in front of her desk for the rest of the day.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen this coming. She’d predicted him coming to see her once she’d returned to work. To Apologize. And it wasn’t like she was going to be able to avoid him forever. They did work together now for God’s sake. She might as well just get it over with. 

“Yes, Mr. Bridgerton?” she asked with an exhausted sigh, finally looking up at him. 

Benedict looked a mixture of embarrassed and anxious as he looked down at her. He opened his mouth to say something, the planned apology speech he’d been rehearsing all morning, before forgoing that. Instead, he just lifted up his arm, revealing a blue and green gift bag he’d brought with him. Holding it out in front of him.

“Here,” he said. 

Sophie blinked. “What is this?” she asked, looking from the bag to him.

“An apology. For your son,” Benedict said, and Sophie’s body tense up. 

She glanced back down at the bag, but didn’t move. She wasn’t sure how to respond. Her mind momentarily having shut down. Leaving Benedict standing awkwardly, arm outstretched towards her, in front of her. 

“I uh…it’s fine.” Sophie didn’t know what else to say. 

“Kate said he liked dinosaurs, so I grabbed things I thought he might like,” Benedict added sheepishly, placing the bag down on the desk as he realized she wouldn't take it. “The receipts are in the bag. In case I was wrong. You can just return them and buy him something he’d like.” 

“Um…thank you,” Sophie said after a few moments, her tongue was still struggling to unravel itself. The knowledge she had a gift Benedict had gotten for her son – his son – was a bit of a shock for her to process currently.

“I just wanted to apologize for Thursday,” Benedict told her. “I didn’t know you had a son, or your plans–and I’m not trying to make excuses! I just…I wanted to apologize. It was wrong of me to treat you like that and I swear it won’t happen again.”

But Sophie was only half listening, her eyes remaining trained on the bag sitting in front of her. As if it was a bomb Benedict had just put in front of her and not a gift bag with baby blue tissue paper sticking out at the top. The handles tied together with a silver, silk ribbon pulled into a tight, perfect bow. 

“It’s fine, really,” she said, finally glancing up at Benedict. Hopeful, her statement was enough for him and that he would leave.

But Benedict seemed to see right though it, brows furrowing slightly. 

“I really am sorry,” he said, studying her. 

And she could tell he meant it. He wasn’t expecting forgiveness, it was concerned over whether or not she believed he was being genuine. 

Sophie sighed. “I know, Benedict.” 

She knew him well enough to know when he was being genuine. While she didn’t know his motives for holding her back Thursday night, she had hoped he would at least regret what he did. Which was confirmed after she returned to work the next day. 

But with everything that had happened over the weekend, she almost forgot that Benedict was now aware of Charles. Something that only added to the growing problem that was her life. 

“I swear I’ll make it up to you,” Benedict then told her.

“You really don’t need to,” she said back. 

“I feel like I do,” he replied, weakly. 

“People make mistakes all the time,” she told him. “You didn’t know about–things happen.”

She couldn’t say Charles’ name. Not in front of Benedict. Not yet. Her tongue seemed to tie up into a knot whenever it came close to slipping past her lips. 

And then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a bigger problem appearing around the corner. Anthony. Who had stopped in his tracks when he saw Benedict speaking with her, dark eyes flicking back and forth between them, before his brows furrowed from distress and panic to annoyance.

Sophie stiffened, swallowing down her building anxiety. 

Not again.

“Ms. Baek, can I have a word with you? In private?” Anthony asked loudly, approaching her desk.

Sophie frowned, not sure where he was going with this. “Um…sure.”

“Anthony!” Benedict turned, surprised to see his brother. “Hey–”

“Morning,” Anthony replied curtly, slipping past him and around Sophie’s desk as she rose from her seat. 

She didn’t really get a chance to say or do anything else, as Anthony had already grabbed her arm and begun pulling her away. Away from Benedict. Stepping in front of her so that he was blocking her from Benedict’s view.

“Everything alright?” Benedict asked his brother, brow raised. 

“Yep, just needed to clarify something with Ms. Baek,” Anthony replied over his shoulder, barely looking at him, as he quickly escorted Sophie away and towards his office. 

He wasn’t gripping her arm tightly, but he was forcing her down the hall at speed that left Sophie stumbling. Almost tripping over her feet in an effort to keep up with him. By the time she’d been dragged into his office, she’d had enough and pushed against him. Pulling her arm out of his grip.

“Can I help you, Anthony?” she asked, curtly and annoyed, rubbing the spot on her arm where he’d held on to her. 

Anthony said nothing, shutting the door behind them before heading towards his desk on the other side of the room.

“How much?” was all he asked her as he took a seat, before pulling his chair in closer to the desk. 

Sophie frowned. “What?”

“How much do you want?” Anthony asked, not looking at her as he opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a small book. A checkbook. 

“I’m sorry?” Sophie asked.

“I’m assuming that’s why you’re here. For money,” Anthony continued, flipping open the checkbook, still not even giving her the courtesy of looking at her as he spoke. “Caring for a child single handedly must cost you quite a pretty penny. I’m certain you must not be living as lavishly as you once did because of it. So name your price.”

Was he…was he trying to pay her off?

Sophie blinked. She couldn’t believe it. 

Taking a deep breath, she tried to keep herself from snapping. She’d done a good job these past few years, bottling up and suppressing the feelings she’d had over her break up with Benedict, just so she could move on with her life and focus on Charles. 

But anger. There was still anger. 

And a lot of it, she’d come to realize, was Anthony’s fault.

“You…” Sophie took a deep breath, her rage finally boiling over. “You… asshole !” 

Anthony raised a brow and looked up at her. “Excuse me?” 

“Fuck you!” she spat at him next. 

Both of Anthony’s brows now popped up. 

“I’m sorry?” he asked her, voice calm though the expression on his face was slowly morphing to anger. 

“I cannot believe you,” Sophie continued. She was on a roll now. “Six years and your still the same fucking, inconsiderate asshole. How are you, of all people, a father now?” 

“Excuse me?” Anthony repeated back again, furiously, his back straightening and eyes narrowing.

The anger that she had bottled up and forced herself to put away and ignore was finally resurfacing. Sophie had always been good at letting things go, which was mainly done by pretending it never upset her in the first place. And the years she’d spent living with Araminta. But now she couldn’t help it. She was realizing that she’d never really let it go, no matter how many times she’d told herself she’d moved on. 

“You are such an arrogant. Spineless. Control freak,” she snapped, suddenly unable to stop herself. 

"There is no need to get emotional, Ms. Baek."

"Oh, you're one to talk."

“Well, at least I’m not a college drop out,” he shot at her childishly. 

“I didn’t finish because I got pregnant with your brother’s kid,” she hissed back, equally as childish. 

And now Anthony was on his feet. “Be quiet!” he furiously snapped at her, slamming his hands down on his desk, but his voice was still a quiet hiss as he glanced towards his closed door, panicked, checking for signs someone might be in the hallway. That nobody was walking around on the other side and had heard them.

Sophie only rolled her eyes. 

“I haven’t told anyone. And I don’t plan on it either,” she assured him flatly, mouth twisting sourly as she spoke. 

“Then you shouldn’t have any issue with leaving,” Anthony said, frowning. “How much do you need to quit?”

“Oh my god,” Sophie remarked in disbelief, trying to catch her breath. “I don’t want your money.” 

“While I don’t disagree with that, what with your inheritance, I don’t–”

“My what?”

“Your inheritance. A quite large one from your father if I recall,” Anthony repeated, continuing.

Sophie was stunned. How on earth did he know about that? How could he possibly know?

“It’s gone,” she shot at him. “My stepmother spent most of it paying off her gambling debts and going on lavish trips with her daughters before I could even access it. Paid her own solicitor with it. What was left I used for my son.” 

“My understanding is your stepmother used it to care for you,” Anthony said simply. “And given how difficult you were–”

“Difficult?!”

“Given how difficult you were–” Anthony continued, remaining on the offensive. His tone nothing but indifferent and dismissive. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you ran out so soon after the lawsuit. So, I’ll ask again, how much do you want?”

“How do you even know about that?” Sophie demanded. 

“Your stepmother,” was Anthony's simple response. 

That made Sophie flinch back, feeling like she was about to collapse. Like the ground opened up underneath her feet and she was momentarily thrown airborne. 

Was that why this had all happened? Had Araminta gotten to the Bridgertons while her back was turned? Sophie's heart was beginning to race. Panic was settling in her bones and turning her blood to icy. What else had her stepmother told him? What other lies had she spread?

“Once I had access we learned how much of it had been truly spent,” she spat, trying to regain her courage. Becoming defensive as she felt the need to explain herself. “It was pittance compared to what we thought there was during the case. She’d lied. About all of it.” 

“That’s not what your stepmother said.”

“Is that what she told you?” Sophie snapped. “It wasn’t the money I cared about. It was my father’s house. I wouldn’t have cared about any of it if my stepsister hadn’t told me there was stuff belonging to my mother. Everything she’d left me was in the house and all I wanted was those items, but my stepmother refused to hand them over."

She was on a roll now. Unable to stop the words flowing out of her throat as if she was vomiting them up. But it was evident the dam had finally burst within her. Six years of anger and pain bursting out of her and being directed straight at Anthony. 

“Was it petty? Yes. Did kicking her out make me feel better? A little. I won’t deny that. I never have. But it didn’t change anything,” Sophie continued, furiously. Hot tears brewing. “Anything that belonged to my mother and father were gone. She’d stripped the house of them. Sold them or threw it away in the trash, I don’t know. But what I know is that I have nothing from my parents now, no pictures or objects. No papers or heirlooms. No reminders. Letters my mother left me were burned along with my baby photos. Or photos of my parents when they were together. Anything that could have connected me to them. It’s all gone.”

She practically slapped away the tears from her face before they could slip down from her eyes, quickly wiping her eyes so she didn’t cry in front of him. It made her feel ridiculous. 

“You have no idea what it’s like to have nothing,” she snapped. “To be told your whole life you're nothing. That you’re useless. So you can go fuck yourself Anthony Bridgerton. Upside down and sideways for all I care.”

“Ms. Baek–” Anthony started, but Sophie wasn’t done yet. 

“And if you ever go anywhere near Charles I will go straight to the tabloids and tell them what you did,” Sophie threatened furiously. “The bastard Bridgerton and his deadbeat father. I’m certain they’ll have a field day with that.” 

Anthony stared at her. And while his eyes may have been wide with fear, he could still read her.

“You wouldn’t.”

Sophie opened her mouth to snap at him that she would, but stopped herself. Realizing it wasn’t true. That it was in a moment of anger she had spoken those words halfheartedly. Sure, it would sting the Bridgertons squeaky clean reputation if it was revealed there was a baby born out of wedlock who’d been shunned and abandoned by his father. 

But she’d never put Charles through something like that. Never.

“No," she admitted, deflating. "You’re right. I won’t."

She sighed, the anger slowly bleeding from her and hoping it would turn into calm composure. Only the anger was giving away to pain, her tears returning to her eyes. As she took a deep breath, she decided this wasn’t worth it. 

“I think we’re done here,” she told Anthony calmly, in an effort to not start crying. “Do you need anything else from me, Mr. Bridgerton?” 

Slowly, and looking rather uncomfortable, Anthony slid a box of tissues towards her. A small peace offering she supposed. After a few seconds of careful consideration, she snatched a few rather violently from the box, quickly dabbing her eyes and blowing her nose with them, before tossing them into the trash can next to the desk.

“I promise you. I want nothing to do with you or your family and I certainly don’t ever want your money. I just want to be left alone,” she told him, mustering as much lingering anger as she could. To make sure she still sounded brave. Staring him down as she spoke. 

And Anthony eyed her for a few silent moments, studying her face intently, hard enough that Sophie almost backpedaled but didn’t, before finally he looked away. Ashamed.

“I believe you,” he admitted softly. 

“I only intend to stay here for the year, till my contract is up. I’m already looking elsewhere,” Sophie continued. “Once the year’s up and I’ve found a new job, I’ll leave. You won’t have to worry about me ever again.”

“That’s going to be a little difficult with our sons having become such close friends,” Anthony informed her.

“Children lose contact with friends all the time. After some time, they’ll forget all about each other and move on,” Sophie assured him with a simple shrug. “Your brother certainly had no issue with that.”

Anthony flinched. His jaw clenching tightly before relaxing.

“That’s not his fault,” he corrected, defensively. 

“No, you're right. It isn’t,” Sophie clarified tightly. “It’s yours.”

Which he said nothing back to. As she stood there, waiting for him to say anything in his defense, Anthony couldn’t meet her eye. He seemed to be stuck in his own thoughts, maybe guilt or shame. Sophie wasn’t sure. But when the tense silence only continued, Sophie could only scoff, deciding it was best to just leave. 

“I’ll write you a recommendation,” he told her gently. “If it helps your job search. I’ll put a good word in for you.”

But Sophie only scoffed, shaking her head. She couldn’t help it. It was too funny.

“As I said before, Anthony, I don’t need, nor will I ever want, your help,” she replied over her shoulder, mustering as much fury as she could, before turning back around and finally escaping the suffocating room.

—

She was exhausted by the time she got home. With everything that had happened today. The time she’d wasted in the bathroom trying to make herself look presentable after her conversation with Anthony. Trying to avoid everyone else while she did. Her nervous system felt shot. Her muscles heavy and fatigued. She just wanted to crawl into bed and go to sleep.

But the mere sight of a squealing Charles happily running to the front door from the living room to greet her with a big hug was enough for Sophie to be momentarily reenergized. To forget all about her conversation (if she could even call it that) with Anthony. 

“Hi baby,” she said gently as she hugged him.

“Did you have a good day at work, mama?” Charles inquired sweetly.

“I did. How was school?” she asked back.

“Neddy and I had music today,” Charles told her, beginning to summarize his day to her. Everything he’d learned today and the games he’d played with Neddy, how excited he was for his play-date this weekend, while Sophie followed him into the living room. Which is where she found her godparents were. Already settled in for the evening and relaxing. An episode of Bluey playing on the TV. 

And yes, the play-date.

Kate had reached out about going to the aquarium this weekend, which Sophie had said yes to solely because she didn’t want to let on to her new friend anything was wrong. And she didn’t want any of this to impact her son. He and Neddy were such good friends. 

And so far, from her interactions with Kate these past few days, it was evident that she had no idea who Sophie really was and that Anthony hadn’t seemed to have told her anything. 

For now, only she and Anthony knew the truth about Charles’ parentage. 

“How was your day, kiddo?” Thomas asked, from where he was sitting in the old, leather recliner.

“Good,” Sophie replied. “Long.”

“There’s leftover stew for you on the stove,” Marilla told her as she entered. “I can reheat some for you if you want?”

Sophie only shook her head. “I can do it. Don’t worry.”

Then she turned her attention back to Charles, who was sitting in the children’s bean bag sitting next to the sofa, leaning forward. His amber eyes watching the screen with hyper focus as if he’d never taken his attention away from it. 

“I have a little surprise for you,” Sophie told him, smiling as she reached into her bag to grab his gift. 

“Oh!” Charles perked up, excitedly. 

She’d gone back and forth about giving it to him. The entire train ride home. Weighing the pros and cons, whether or not it was worth it. But, in the end, Sophie had decided to give it to him. 

She didn’t need to tell him who it was from. 

“My colleague got you a birthday gift,” she told him instead. 

“Oh, how sweet,” Marilla remarked from where she was sitting on the sofa, smiling.

“Here you go, sweetheart. Go ahead and open it,” Sophie said to Charles, handing the bag over to him.

Charles, ecstatic at the idea of getting another birthday gift, quickly got to work unwrapping it. Ripping the paper out so it flew around him before floating back down to the ground, while plunging his arm into the bag to pull out the surprise inside. Thomas got up from his chair to clean up the paper, while Charles finally began to reveal what had been hidden inside the bag. 

The first thing to come out was a stack of books all stored together in a thick, plastic, ziplock bag.

She recognized them. They were a famous children's book, the DK Eyewitness series. Sophie recalled having similar ones when she was growing up and in her primary school as well. It appeared Benedict had gotten Charles the entire collection, which included both history and science books. And she knew the one in the stack labeled dinosaur was going to be particularly well received by her son.  

“Wow!” Charles remarked, eyes wide, staring down in awe as he lifted each book after pulling them out of the bag and scanning them over, figuring out what they were about by the pictures on the cover. If there was one thing Charles enjoyed the most was learning new things, he was like a little sponge absorbing all the information he could get his hands on, and he now had a stack of books that would do just that.

“Well, it looks like your friend has very good taste,” Marilla commented to Sophie with a soft chuckle, smiling fondly as she watched Charles.

“There’s a dinosaur one too!” Charles happily squealed when he came upon the book with a large T-Rex roaring on the front cover, giggling excitedly. 

“I think you got something else in here too, kiddo,” Thomas told him, shaking the gift bag. Something could be heard rustling around beneath the tissue paper. 

Putting the book down, Charles reached out and took the gift bag, shoving his entire arm into the bag to pull out what else was inside. 

The first thing he pulled out was a dinosaur teddy. A bright blue one with soft gray spikes over the back. A stegosaurus. Sophie thought it was the only thing left, but apparently there was another one, as Charles quickly pulled out another dino teddy, this time a firetruck red triceratops with beige horns. There were both moderate size teddy bears, no bigger in length than Sophie’s forearm, and she had no doubt they would be making themselves quite at home on Charles’ bed.

“Look Mama!” Charles happily held out the plushie towards her. “It’s a steggy-soar-us and a try-tera-top .” 

Sophie smiled, nodding her understanding back, happy to see him enjoying the gifts from his father. 

While she was grateful that the gifts brought her son such joy, there was a stab of pain in her heart at the knowledge that neither Charles nor Benedict knew about the other. Charles had no idea the belated birthday gift was from his father, and Benedict had no idea the gift was going to his son.

Something in her heart twisted tightly. It was bittersweet, watching as Charles hugged both plushies tightly against his chest, before grabbing the dinosaur book from the pile. Watching as he carried them all over to his small, ocean blue bean bag in the corner of the living room, dropping down into it. He opened the book and began reading over the pages. 

“Who’s it from?” Marilla asked her suddenly.

“Sorry?” Sophie asked, having not heard her the first time.

“The gift,” Marilla clarified. “Who’s it from?”

“Oh! Um…Agatha. My boss,” Sophie lied, saying the first name that came to mind. 

“That was kind of her,” Marilla told her. 

Sophie only hummed. “Yes, it was,” she said, glancing back towards Charles who was enraptured by the images within the book he was reading. Each plusie was tucked tightly under his armpits. 

As she watched him, Sophie felt something change inside her. 

She had to give it to Benedict, he’d done a pretty good job at getting the perfect gift for Charles. Violet was right when she said Benedict was good with kids. He knew exactly what to get him without even having met him. Even she had never thought about getting him a dinosaur teddy. He’d been so attached to the monkey teddy bear he’d had since he was a newborn, a gift from Marilla, she’d never thought to get him another one. He’d never shown interest in them. 

But she could tell from how tightly he was clinging to the stegosaurus and triceratops teddies, they were going to be sticking around for some time. 

The icy wall she’d built around her heart to prevent Benedict from ever getting back in, was beginning to melt. The years of choosing to just accept that Benedict had left her after not wanting to be a father had already been made difficult to continue believing. And while Thursday, and the return of Anthony, had only set off her flight response, the guilt of keeping Charles from Benedict was also beginning to get to her. 

The thought of telling him about Charles certainly passed her thoughts too. Ever briefly. Even if she had no idea how to even begin explaining that to him. How she could possibly go about explaining their previous relationship, but the temptation was there. Even if it was just to get back at Anthony, given how petty she felt currently, but that only made her hesitate further. 

Maybe she’d start by just thanking him for the gift.

Chapter Text

Benedict hadn’t expected his mother of all people to be the one to help him fix things with Sophie. He wasn’t expecting forgiveness, but he couldn’t stand Sophie being upset with him. And she seemed to be slowly pulling away again. 

And then, Saturday morning, he got a text from his mother. 

Mum: Sweetheart, do you mind going to check on the flower order I put in for Amelia’s birthday? I’d ask Kate but she’s going to the aquarium with the kids and Neddy’s new friend Charlie. I think Charlie’s mother Sophie was going too, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to bother them.

Mum: You must know Sophie. I think she’s Agatha’s new secretary. 

God bless his mother and her ability to know literally every soul in the city of London. She was better than most private investigators. 

But the information he’d gotten from her, along with a location, made him decide to do something completely stupid, reckless and wholeheartedly out of line.

He went to the aquarium in search of them. 

Which he knew was a strange thing to do. Showing up, unannounced, to his nephew’s playdate just so that he could put the moves on the mom of said nephew’s new friend. Even Benedict knew that was weird. He knew that Kate would kill him when she realized what he’d done. It wasn’t like his ass was still on thin ice when it came to her. 

But the pull he felt towards Sophie, like a moth to a flame, made it difficult for him to think rationally. He constantly felt drawn to her, for reasons he couldn’t explain.

So, he hoped into the first cab he could hail and made his way down to Westminster in an effort to find them. Breezing down past the London Eye and other tourist traps, before spending fourty five pounds just for a ticket to get him in immediately. 

From there, he just had to find them amongst the sea of people (no pun intended.) It didn’t talk long though. A short walk through the aquarium and there she was. 

Standing in the middle of the underwater tunnel located further into the building.  

For a moment, everyone around them seemed to disappear as Benedict stopped in his tracks. As if Sophie was suddenly the only one in the little hall, haloed in blue, shimmering light by the water behind the glass above her. Her head tilted upwards as she watched the sharks and fishes swimming above her from one side of the tank to the other. She was dressed casually, a nice long sleeved top and a pair of light washed, denim jeans. With her hair pulled back into a pony tail. 

At that moment, all he wanted to do was draw her. The scene and colors in front of him were perfect. The angles and shapes, he could see the sketch in his mind's eye. 

And then she glanced down and spotted him. 

She blinked. Her eyes widened in surprise as he slowly came towards her. “Benedict! What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was just in the area,” he replied, lying through his teeth as he flashed his Bridgerton smile at her. “Thought I’d kill some time. What are you doing here?” 

“Oh! I’m um…” she hesitated but wasn’t given a real chance to answer as there was a loud yell behind them.

All the noise and people rushed back into view around them as Sophie quickly spun around, facing away from him and towards a small boy racing down the tunnel towards them.

Her son.

“Mama, mama, mama!” Sophie’s son screamed as he came running up to them.

Benedict chuckled as the sweet boy rushed over to their side, beaming up at them with excitement. He couldn’t ignore that the kid was rather good looking, with a charming, almost lopsided smile and adorable eyes.  The little boy’s hair was a dark chocolate, unlike Sophie’s which was inky black. But the sharpness in the cheekbones was the same. His eyes were a light amber compared to Sophie’s darker, reddish brown ones. But the similarities were there. He definitely got his good looks from her. 

“Yes, Charlie?” Sophie asked him, her voice far calmer and quieter than his.

“Mama, did you know that puffer fish are poisonous?” Charlie said to her, bouncing excitedly.

“I did not,” she replied, playing along.

“They’re veni–” the little boy stopped, frowning. “Vena…veni-mouse. Veni–”

“Vehn-uh-muhs,” Sophie pronounced for him gently. “Venomous.” 

“Vehn. Uh. Mouse,” Charlie returned, almost saying each syllable right. “Pufferfish are venomouse so that other bigger fishies don’t eat them.” 

Sophie gave a little dramatic gasp. “Really? I didn’t know that.” 

“Uh-huh,” Charlie nodded, smiling now. Then his eyes fell on Benedict, and he frowned. “Who's this?”

“Oh! Um right. This…um…this is…” Sophie hesitated, trying to find the words. She glanced between Benedict and her son, causing Benedict to raise a brow at her in confused concern as her stuttering continued on for an abnormally long amount of time, before she quickly cleared her throat and smiled. As if nothing was wrong. “This is Mr. Benedict,” finally said to the little boy, cheerfully. “He’s Neddy’s uncle.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Benedict said politely, nodding down to him.

Charles only eyed him, suspiciously. His dark eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed deeper, leaving a tiny, little arrow shaped indent pointing down between them. Slowly, he moved in closer to his mother, grabbing onto one of her pant legs and wrapping his arms around it almost protectively. Holding it tightly, he smushed his cheek into her leg and hid himself behind her. 

“Now, now,” Sophie said gently, rubbing a hand over his soft slight curls. “Don’t be shy.”

“Hello,” Charles said quietly, still watching Benedict. When he saw Benedict was still watching him, he turned his head and hid his face into his mother’s leg. 

“Where’s Neddy gone off to?” Sophie asked.

As she spoke, she seemed to have just summoned him as Benedict’s little nephew suddenly came charging towards them, racing down the underwater tunnel, with Kate desperately trying to keep up behind him. 

“Neddy, don’t run!” Benedict heard Kate yell as she raced after him with the stroller. 

“Uncle Ben! Uncle Ben!” Neddy screamed happily as he then slammed into Benedict’s legs and wrapped his arms around them.

“Hey, little man. How have you been?” Benedict asked as he reached down and lifted Neddy into his arms. His nephew squealed excitedly and descended into a fit of giggles as Benedict tickled his fingers over his sides, before propping him on his hip. 

“Benedict? What are you doing here?” Kate asked, surprised, when she caught up with them. 

“Oh, I was just in the area,” Benedict said, lying. “Haven’t been to the aquarium for some time and I had some time to kill. I thought I’d take a break and look at some fishes.” 

Kate blinked, raising a sharp brow in response to his blatant lie and glancing towards Sophie standing next to him, who was currently leaning forward, chatting quietly with her son about something, and then back to him. 

“Uh-huh,” she then remarked, slowly. Putting two and two together.

Benedict gave her a look. Telling her silently to button it. To which Kate only rolled her eyes back at.

“Uncle Ben, did you know pufferfish are poisonous?” Neddy thankfully then asked him, cutting his mother off from interrogating him further. 

“You know what? I actually just found out about that myself,” Benedict told his nephew. “You’re friend Charlie told me.”

Hearing his name, Charlie glanced over and frowned up at him. “I told Eomma,” he clarified, flatly. “Not you.”

But Benedict only laughed, before turning back to Neddy. “Well, I was standing next to Ms. Baek when he did, so I might have overheard.” 

“Can we go see the penguins now?” Neddy then asked, looking over his shoulder towards his mother. 

Kate smiled at him. “Of course we can sweetheart. As long as you don’t run.”

But the second Benedict placed his nephew back down on the ground, the little boy took off like a bullet down the tunnel. His little friend raced after him, just as fast. At a full sprint. 

“Charles, don’t run!” Sophie shouted, panicked. 

“EDMUND–!” Kate quickly stopped herself mid yell and sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, I don’t know why I bother.”

“You should get him a leash,” Benedict suggested lightly with a chuckle. 

To which Kate only raised a brow and said. “I’m not putting my son on a leash.”

Benedict shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Worked well on Eloise when she was little. Hyacinth too.”

Kate looked momentarily appalled, before glancing towards Sophie and shaking her head. “Bridgertons, Sophie. You want my advice, stay as far away from them as possible,” she told her, jokingly, before pointing at Benedict. “Especially that one.”

To which Benedict only raised his arms up in surrender. Brows up high on his forehead. “What did I do?”

“What haven’t you done?” was Kate’s response as she turned the stroller around. “I’m going to go try and catch up with Thing 1 and Thing 2.” 

“Right behind you,” Sophie told her as they watched Kate quicken her pace and start moving down the hall, following the squeals of laughter coming from Neddy and Charlie up ahead. 

As they followed her, Benedict kept up his stride with Sophie, walking in step alongside her. Not too difficult given she was a head shorter than him. He just needed to slow his pace down to the same as hers. Sophie was walking a little faster than usual, most likely to get back to her son. 

“How have you been?” he asked her, as they passed tanks filled with colorful fish swimming around in crystal clear water. 

“Good, good,” Sophie replied, nodding her head along as she spoke. “You?”

“Fine,” he replied simply. “Do you and Kate do this often? Playdates?”

“Oh! Um…a little, yes. Charles and Neddy have become quite good friends,” she told him. 

Good to know. 

“That’s good. I know Neddy had a rough time last year. It’s good he’s making new friends,” he remarked. He’d been happy to hear Neddy was enjoying school a lot more this year.

Sophie nodded, not looking at him. “Yes. He’s been a very good friend to Charlie.”

As they moved further through the aquarium, catching the back of Kate’s head up in front of them, Benedict leaned in a little closer to Sophie.

“So…are we good now?” he asked, rather cheekily. But he desperately wanted to know. 

Sophie’s dark amber eyes widened as she briefly caught his, before looking away. Suddenly unable to as she only hummed, a little awkwardly. “We should probably catch up with them,” she then suggested, quickly. 

Benedict smiled. Well, it was a start. At least she wasn’t telling him to bugger off. 

“We probably should,” he replied with a nod, and followed her down through the aquarium and after the others.

—

They ended up at a small restaurant along the Thames, back over the bridge and towards Trafalgar Square, for lunch. And with the summer heat having made an unexpected, last minute return, the sun shining down on the city in a clear, cloudless sky, they were lucky and got a seat outside. 

“Edmund eat all of your chicken nuggets, please,” Kate gently ordered as she held Miles in her arms, feeding him with a bottle. “Or no ice cream.”

“Mama, can you pass me the ketchup?” Charlie asked.

“Of course, baby,” Sophie replied, reaching over and grabbing the ketchup bottle, helping him put more of the condiment onto his messy plate. 

“Are you all done, my little munchkin?” Kate asked Miles as he let go of the bottle, having finished eating. 

Miles gave his mother a big yawn, no doubt lulled close to sleep by his meal and ready for his afternoon nap. Gently, Kate lowered Miles back into his pram so he could begin to do so, her phone on the table beginning to vibrate right after she did. 

“Oh, it’s Anthony,” Kate told them, reading the name on the screen. “I need to take this. Ben, can you–”

“Already on it,” Benedict told her, knowing she’d been about to ask him to watch the boys while she stepped away.

Kate mouthed him a quick ‘thank you’ as she slid out of her seat and she answered the phone, bringing it to her ear. Giving a quick ‘hey’ into the device, wandering away from the table for some quick privacy as she spoke with her husband. 

And leaving Benedict alone with Sophie.

Somewhat. There were three children under six at the table with them.

But it was an opportunity for Benedict. He could converse with her without having to endure Kate’s judgemental stares.

“Kate says you're a big fan of museums,” he said, trying to start a conversation.

“Usually just the Natural History museum,” Sophie told him with a light laugh. “Charles is a big dinosaur fan.”

“What about the National Gallery?” he then asked. It had always been a good date place for him. 

“Oh! I–well…” she paused for a moment. “I haven’t really been there in a while.”

“Not an art fan?” Benedict asked. 

“No, no,” she responded, shaking her head. “No, I like art museums.” A little quieter, she said. “Charlie doesn’t really like them though. Never has.”

“Ah, I see.”

So she liked art museums. Perfect. He could impress her with his vast knowledge on different styles and artists whose works were hanging inside of the National Portrait Gallery. Maybe he could even do a personal drawing for her? He could do one of her and Charlie. She’d probably like that.   

“Favorite artist?” Benedict asked next, trying to learn more from her.

“Monet,” Sophie answered, simply.

That made him frown. Benedict had never been a fan of Monet (or impressionism for that matter). But he had frowned before he could stop himself, not realizing he’d inadvertently offended Sophie, who matched his frown with one of her own. 

“What?” she asked, annoyed. 

Shit . 

“N-no. It’s nothing,” he told her, trying to shrug off his discomfort. 

“What? What’s wrong with what I said?”

“It’s nothing. Monet’s…fine.”

“What’s wrong with Monet?”

Oh, he was going to get flack for this wasn’t he? Cringing for a moment, weighing his options, Benedict finally said it. 

“He’s just…bad.”

“Bad? Monet is not bad,” Sophie told him, her frown deepening. “They’re relaxing.”

“They’re boring,” Benedict retorted, flatly, clarifying his opinion.

“Colorful paintings that focus on light and use softer brushstrokes? Pallet choices of lighter, calmer colors. Boring?!”

“All finished, mama,” Charles said brightly, the plate in front of him clean of food, but Sophie hadn’t heard him. She was still staring at Benedict, her face a mixture of disbelief and annoyance.

“Monet can be pretty repetitive if you ask me. A lot of ponds and lilies. They’re all the same image from a different angle.”

“Mama?” Charles repeated, louder this time, trying to catch Sophie’s attention.

“Because he was painting his personal garden. A garden he invested thousands of pounds into,” Sophie told him, not hearing her son again. “And since it was connected to his home of course he’d paint it over and over again. It would be perfect for practicing. Something an artist like you should know.”

Benedict frowned, curious. He didn’t remember mentioning to Sophie he sketched. He didn’t think anyone at work knew he used to dabble in the arts besides his family. 

“How did you know–?” he started to ask, but was cut off by Charles.

“Mama!” the boy whined at his mother loudly, annoyed at being ignored. 

“One moment, Charles,” Sophie said simply, before returning to her conversation with Benedict. “And you are going to tell me that Monet is bad? This, coming from the man who has multiple impressionist paintings in his office.” 

Benedict only rolled his eyes at that. “They fit with the aesthetic.” 

“No, they don’t. No one else has paintings like those. Everyone else stuck to the modernist style except for you,” Sophie argued, and she was right. He was the only one not following the norm. Not that he ever had. They were always considered his little rebellions. 

To be honest, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure why he’d decorated his office that way in the first place. He supposed he just found the paintings calming. After the accident. The romanticist styled ones had been bothering him. Giving him headaches every time he looked at them, as if his brain was trying to tell him the room was no longer aesthetically pleasing. Like they just didn’t fit anymore. 

Maybe he was lying. Maybe he had developed a soft spot for Monet. 

And he realized he’d leaned in quite close to her, slowly having inched closer and closer as they spoke. Without even realizing. It had taken him by surprise. 

“Alright, alright, I surrender,” Benedict told her, holding up his hands and quickly leaning back. “You’re right. They are good paintings.” 

“Good,” Sophie replied, a little smug.

Benedict only chuckled back and glanced over the table, to check his nephew had finished his meal. 

And catching Charlie’s eyes instead.

The boy was glowering at him, lips pressed into a tight line as he pouted. His lower chin scrunching up. Apparently, little Charlie did not enjoy watching Benedict speak with his mother. Did not like him taking up all of his mother’s time and attention either. Not at all. His face twisted up more and more as they chatted, like he’d sucked on a particularly sour lemon. 

Benedict only smiled back at the little boy. Maybe a little too cockily, since it was socially considered immature to compete with a six year old for a woman’s attention, but Charles didn’t hesitate to turn it into a competition. The little boy only grew more and more annoyed watching them, ignoring him as a result, until he finally jumped down from his seat and wandered around the table to be by his mother’s side.

“Are you alright, Charlie?” Sophie then asked when she noticed him.

The little boy threw his arms up and pouted.

“Hug,” he told her in a small, baby voice, although it still sounded more like a demand.

“Oh! Oh, of course my little bumblebee. Come here,” Sophie said sweetly, grabbing her son under the armpits and lifting him up onto her lap, before wrapping her arms around him. She rested her chin on the top of his head, squeezing him against her as she rocked him gently slightly side to side. 

As he snuggled in against his mother, Charlie caught Benedict’s eye. With Sophie's attention elsewhere, Benedict watched the little boy stick his tongue out at him victoriously, all while he continued cuddling with his mother. Something which Benedict could only raise a brow at.

Then Charlie started poking at Benedict's hand, where it was resting on the top rail of Sophie’s chair, trying to get him to move it. Didn’t help the kid was poking him with a nail accidentally cut at an angle, leaving him with a sharp point to stab him with. Making him almost wince each time Charlie poked him.

It made Benedict briefly tempted to flip him off. 

Briefly. 

Again. It is considered socially unacceptable to compete with a literal child for a woman’s attention. Especially in public. Benedict was better than this. 

“Did you enjoy your gift?” he asked him instead.

Charles stopped poking him and frowned. “What gift?”

“Oh! That,” Sophie said, suddenly realizing what Benedict was referencing. Her cheeks went pink before she cleared her throat. “I nearly forgot.” She then turned to Charles. “You remember those books my friend got you for your birthday? Your new, little, stuffed dinosaurs?”

Charles nodded. “Steggy and Tera,” he told her, proudly. Benedict suspected those were the names the little boy had given the dino teddies he’d bought.

“Well, Mr. Benedict is the one who got you that gift,” Sophie told her son. 

“I thought you told Nana your boss got them,” Charlie pointed out and Sophie froze. 

“Your boss?” Benedict asked, intrigued, with a brow raised. 

“Um…well…” Sophie thought for a moment. “Mr. Benedict is technically my boss.”

“But you said Agatha was their name,” Charlie corrected. 

“Well, I meant Mr. Benedict,” Sophie quickly said back, flustered now. “Can you please say thank you to Mr. Benedict?”

Charles paused, frowning at the news, and said nothing. Stubbornly choosing to stay silent. 

“Charles,” Sophie said, voice going slightly stern around the edges. “Be the polite little gentleman I know you are and say ‘thank you’.”

Charles’ mouth only twisted tighter as he stared up at his mother, annoyed and frankly shocked he had to. But, like he was chewing glass, he finally glanced toward Benedict, giving him a furious side-eye, and mumbled. “Thank you, Mr. Benedict.”

“You’re very welcome, Charles,” Benedict replied, smiling smugly at the little boy. He needed to knock it off. Before Sophie noticed. Before Kate came back and noticed. 

“There’s no need to be rude,” Sophie said to her son, before giving him a supportive kiss on his cheek. “Be kind please. Why don’t you tell him about what you learned in your new dinosaur book.”

But Charles only sighed, and glanced towards Benedict. “What’s your favorite dinosaur?” he asked him, with as much politeness as he could muster. As if trying to start polite conversation with him.

Benedict hummed, thinking it over. “I don’t know…maybe a brachiosaurus. They have great big necks.”

Charles frowned at him and then made a sour face, mouth curling like curdled milk. He looked unimpressed by Benedict’s answer, letting out a small humph and looking away. “You look like someone who would like a brachiosaurus,” he muttered quietly, shaking his head.

Benedict raised a brow at the boy again. What was that supposed to mean?

“My favorite is a T-Rex,” Neddy announced to the table before Benedict could say anything else. 

“T-Rexes are cool. I like them too,” Charles told his friend happily, attitude doing a full 180. “Mama’s favorite is a plesiosaur.”

“Like Nessie?” Benedict asked, humorously, glancing towards Sophie, whose cheeks went bright pink as she looked away.

“I went to Loch Ness once,” Sophie muttered. “It was a nice trip.” 

“Don’t plesiosaurus also have long necks?” Benedict pointed out.

“Yes, but they also lived underwater,” Charles replied, and Benedict could have sworn he saw the little boy roll his eyes. “That makes them much cooler.” 

“Alright, so what’s your favorite dinosaur?” he asked.

“My favorite is the megalodon,” Charles loudly proclaimed with a big, wide smile as he sat on Sophie’s lap. “Or the Steggy-ah-sour-us.” 

“What’s a meg-la-don?” Neddy asked.

“It’s a great, big, dinosaur shark,” Charles began to excitedly explain, throwing his arms out wide. “It was soooo big that its jaw was wider than two men standing on top of each other. Its teeth are bigger than my hands. And their bite was so strong it could crush a car!” 

Neddy stared up at Charles with wide eyes, eyes that seemed to grow bigger and bigger as Charles excitedly explained megalodons to him. Benedict watched as his nephew’s face slowly grew more and more frightened, until he finally closed his eyes.

And started crying.

“Oh dear,” Sophie remarked.

“I got it,” Benedict told her, getting up and moving to grab his nephew. “Come here, buddy.” 

Neddy willingly went into his arms, throwing his arms up towards his uncle in confirmation he wanted comfort and pressing his face against Benedict’s polo as he sobbed. He began babbling—or blubbering really–about how he didn’t want to be eaten by any sharks. Telling his uncle he was scared of the megalodon. That it was going to eat him. All while Benedict tried to calm him down.

And Miles, hearing the crying, began to get fussy in his pram. Sophie quickly grabbed the handles and began gently rocking the pram back and forth to help sooth the little babe, without much luck, while Benedict focused on his older brother.

“Don’t worry,” he told his nephew. “It’s okay. The megalodon won’t hurt you. It lived in the ocean. A very long time ago.”

“But what if I go into the ocean and it eats me?!” Neddy gasped out between tears, only listening to half of what he was saying. 

“It won’t, Neddy,” Charles told his friend, looking worried. “The megalodon is extinct. That means they aren’t alive anymore. Just their bones. They’re all gone now.”

“There are no humongous sharks swimming around. Just normal sized sharks,” Benedict added as he rubbed the boy’s back.

“And how big are the normal sized sharks?” Neddy asked, weakly, sniffling as he rubbed the water from his eyes. 

“About as big as I am. Maybe bigger,” Benedict replied with a shrug, not thinking his answer through. 

Because Neddy, who only came up to around a little bit above Benedict’s knees, slowly processed the information his uncle just gave him and seemed to come to the conclusion that a normal sized shark was just as dangerous as a megalodon. Possibly even worse. 

“But those ones can eat me whole too!” he cried out to them, panicked, and descended into another fit of sobs. 

—

“I’m so sorry, Kate. I’m sure Charles didn’t mean to scare him.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” Kate replied, waving her off as she dabbed a tissue against Neddy’s tear stained cheeks. 

She’d returned from the phone call to find a panicked Benedict trying to console her hysterical son, bouncing him slightly on his hip, while Sophie was trying to soothe an equally crying Miles, who’d been unable to calm down with all the noise his brother was making. And Charles had been stuck in the middle, looking like he too was about to start sobbing. 

A few soft words and a thousand kisses to the cheek later, and Neddy had calmed down enough to understand that there were no sharks in the Thames and that Amma and Daddy wouldn’t ever let him be eaten by one. Not ever. By then, Sophie had also been able to get Miles to calm down and back in his pram, and made sure Charles wasn’t going to start crying either out of fear he’d traumatized his new friend.

“He’s going through something lately,” she added. “Getting a little fearful of everything. Last week it was snakes. The week before, it was ladybirds. The week before that, squirrels. I blame his father. Anthony freaked out a few months ago on him when he found Neddy investigating a dead hive in the yard.”

Benedict sighed, knowing well why his brother had most likely reacted the way he did. “I doubt Anthony meant to scare him.”

“Oh, I know,” Kate replied, gently. “I love your brother, Ben, but he tends to forget we had both boys tested when they were babies.” 

“Sorry, Neddy,” Charles said to his friend as they spoke, peaking out from behind his mother. Still feeling terrible about upsetting him, he’d been hiding behind Sophie’s leg ever since, gripping the fabric of her pants. “Megalodon’s don’t have to be my favorite dinosaur anymore if they scare you.” 

“It’s alright, Charlie,” Neddy said with a sniffle, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t have to change it for me.”

“Here honey, drink this,” Kate said, handing Neddy his Paw Patrol water bottle.

“We can both like T-Rexs together,” Charles then suggested and Neddy nodded in agreement.

“See?” Kate said with a smile. “Nothing to be worried about.” 

“It has been a long morning,” Sophie commented. “They’re probably all getting tired.”

“I’m not tired,” Charles whined, before giving away his exhaustion with a big yawn. Even with his arguing, he leaned towards Sophie, rubbing at his eyes.

“I think I have to agree with you there, Sophie,” Kate said, nodding her head towards Neddy, who, right on cue, yawned as well. “I think this morning's events have left these two a little knackered.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Charles whined, louder this time, and giving away more of his exhaustion. 

“Sweetheart,” Sophie said gently, leaning down and running a hand over his curls, sympathetically. “You’ll see Neddy on Monday.”

“I know,” Charles said, sadly, looking at her shoes as he pouted.

“Which way are you heading?” Kate asked. 

“Charing Cross is going to be the easiest one for us,” Sophie told her. 

“I’ll come with you,” Benedict told her. “I’m heading towards Knightsbridge anyway. Gotta run an errand for my mum.”

“Oh! Alright,” Sophie said, a little surprised. Charles, meanwhile, only pouted some more. 

Behind her, Kate caught Benedict’s attention. The stern look of annoyance plastered her features as she stared him down. 

“Behave,” she then mouthed at him, but Benedict only waved her off. Making sure Sophie couldn’t see them as he did.

They said their final goodbyes and departed their separate ways, with Benedict heading in the same direction as Sophie and Charles. Walking in stride with them. Conversing the entire way. Mainly Benedict and Sophie. Charles was, pointedly, silent the entire walk. 

“Well, we’re going this way,” Sophie finally told him, pointing towards the directions to the Northern line, after they’d headed into the tube station. Benedict paying for their fares.  

He was tempted to feign ignorance on where he lived, and go with them for a few stops, but he did need to thank his mother for the intel. And checking on the flower order for Amelia’s birthday was the easiest way to do that.

Meaning he’d have to take the Bakerloo line, just so he could go one stop over and catch the Jubilee line to Knightsbridge. And then home. 

He nodded in the other direction. “I have to go that way,” he told her.

“Oh!” Sophie looked almost as if she’d been momentarily disappointed that they’d have to separate here, but she shrugged it off quickly. “Well, I’ll see you on Monday then.”

“See you then,” Benedict told her, smiling. 

“And I did want to thank you again for the gift,” she told him. “Charlie loved them.” 

Next to her, Charles stubbornly refused to agree, let alone look at Benedict. Looking anywhere else but him instead. And pouting again. His entire chin crinkled up and brows furrowed.  

“It was nothing. I’m glad he enjoyed them,” Benedict said, smiling down at the little boy fondly. “I’ll take it that my apology has been accepted?”

“Tentatively,” Sophie replied with a small, sly smile, catching his teasing tone. “I’d say you’re on probation right now.” 

“I’ll take that.” 

He could take probation. It meant he could still prove himself to her.

“Could we maybe…talk? Privately?” Sophie then hesitantly asked, looking nervous. “Not right now of course. It can wait. But maybe some other time.”

It was Benedict's turn now to look surprised. Eyes widening at her sudden request. 

“Of course,” he told her. 

“Maybe we could get coffee?” Sophie suggested, awkwardly. 

“Um…sure,” Benedict finally forced out. “That would be nice.”

“Eomma!” Charles yelled, swapping to Korean as he pulled on Sophie’s hand. “Let’s go!”

“Yes, yes, alright,” Sophie said, sternly shushing her son. She looked up and gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but I think we have to go now.” 

“It’s fine,” Benedict assured her. “Take care.”

“You too,” Sophie replied with a smile as her son dragged her further away, having to yell the next part. “I’ll text you?”

“Looking forward to it,” he yelled back, unable to hold his smile in any longer.