Chapter Text
It had been twelve weeks since Sophie hit Kyle with her car. Twelve weeks since she stood over his lifeless body, breath caught in her throat, convinced he’d been reaching for a gun.
She hadn’t checked. Hadn’t waited. She’d acted, pure instinct, raw fear, survival. In her mind, it was him or her. And she chose herself.
Dragging him to the cliff had drained her. Dead weight. Awkward limbs. The sickening silence of it all.
She’d wrestled him into the trunk, then out again, hauling him the final stretch beneath a full moon that made the world feel hollow and haunted.
She prayed there were no hunting cameras this time. But she remembered no hunting allowed this close to the water. That was at least something.
At the edge, the lake shimmered below, swallowing moonlight like a secret. Her hands trembled. Her mind was blank. She was exhausted bone-deep, soul-deep.
She wanted the water to take him, to erase the moment before it could harden into memory. She needed him gone. She needed to start hating herself again. For taking another life.
For what this might mean for Jack, if the truth ever surfaced. She leaned forward. One final push, and Kyle would vanish.
Then his phone rang.
It buzzed from his shorts. No gun. Just a phone. She froze. Stared. She reached to silence it, but her fingers slipped, and the call connected.
Margo’s voice spilled out. “Well, finally you picked up.
Kyle, can you hear me? Kyle! Where the hell are you?
You’re freaking me out! Kyle? You better not be fuckin’ with Sophie. I told you not to do that.”
Sophie couldn’t stop herself from breathing loudly. She was too tired, too shaken by the sound of Margo’s voice.
“Who is this?” Margo asked. “Hello… Hello…”
Sophie wanted to speak. Wanted to answer. But she couldn’t. Her thoughts kept circling back to the one truth she couldn’t outrun, she couldn’t trust Margo.
Not really. Not after everything. Not after letting herself fall in love with her.
The woman she blamed for everything unraveling. The woman she loved and despised. The woman who had begged for forgiveness in a motel room.
Who had made promises Sophie wanted so badly to believe. Lies, all of them. The woman Sophie had betrayed her husband for.
The woman she believed every time, she whispered, “Just us.” There was no “us.”
There was Margo. There was Sophie.
And both were fighting for their lives.
Sophie said nothing. She didn’t have to. Her breathing, shallow, uneven, unmistakably betrayed her. Margo knew that rhythm. She knew Sophie’s laugh, her sighs, the way she whispered.
They’d been in each other’s arms that very morning.
And now, in that charged silence, they both knew.
The quiet wasn’t empty. It pulsed with grief, fury, and something unspoken.
Now the lake waited.
Sophie ended the call and slipped the phone into her pocket.
Then, with one last push, Kyle’s body slipped from the cliff’s edge and vanished into the lake below.
The water swallowed him whole, leaving only ripples, and a silence that would never stop ringing.
_______________________________________
Margo hadn’t stumbled into Callie’s arms by accident. She’d planned every tear, every tremble, every carefully timed pause.
Her body was her sharpest weapon, and she wielded it with precision.
She showed up at Callie’s door looking wrecked but radiant makeup smudged just enough to suggest vulnerability, blouse clinging where it should, looking undeniably sexy yet vulnerable.
She knew Callie would open the door. She always did.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” Margo whispered, voice cracking just enough to sound real.
Callie stepped aside without a word.
And when Margo kissed her slow, deliberate, full of need, Callie didn’t resist.
They ended up sleeping together. Margo made sure of it.
She needed to feel in control again. Needed to remind Callie who she belonged to.
And Callie, pliant and aching, gave herself over completely.
Afterward Margo let herself unravel in stages. She curled into Callie’s arms like a woman on the verge of collapse, spun a story laced with half-truths and veiled threats.
Sophie was unstable. Obsessed with her. Dangerous. The implication was enough. If Sophie went to the police, Callie would hear it first. That was the point.
Margo knew she had Callie again. That meant protection. That meant leverage.
That meant Sophie was boxed in for now.
Callie, still hopelessly in love, didn’t question a thing. She held Margo close, stroked her hair, whispered that everything would be okay.
Callie felt like Margo’s knight in shining armor and would do whatever Margo asked of her.
Margo left with a feeling that she had regained some control at least.
____________________________________________
Margo arrived at Kyle’s trailer, a trailer she was sharing with him for now, she knew Jed needed to blow off steam, but she also knew Jed needed her to have a successful campaign, and that he would come crawling soon enough.
“Kyle?” she called, stepping into the dark. “I’m back. Got my head straight, like you said.” No answer.
She frowned. The place was empty.
She pulled out her phone and texted:
Where you at?
Something felt wrong. Was Kyle out doing what she told him not to do? Was he threatening Sophie?
She paced, restless. Her mind drifted to the fundraiser. Sophie’s tear-streaked face. The betrayal felt evident in her beautiful blue eyes.
The way she’d refused to listen. The way she’d threatened to go to the police.
Sophie had never been just a fling. Margo had known that from the start. She wasn’t like the others, she had a voice, a spine, a past.
Margo had seduced her like she always did, but this time, something stuck. Something real. And that terrified her.
What felt like hours later there was still no reply from Kyle.
She called.
Two rings.
“Well, finally you picked up,” she said, trying to sound annoyed. “Kyle? Can you hear me? Kyle!” Her voice cracked. “You’re freaking me out! Kyle?
You better not be fuckin’ with Sophie. I told you not to do that.”
Then breathing. Shallow. Uneven. Familiar.
No answer. Just breath.
“Who is this?” she demanded. “Hello? Hello—”
The line went dead.
Sophie.
She knew it was Sophie.
Margo slid down the door, heart pounding, clutching the silence like it might explain something. Like it might undo what had already been set in motion.
But it didn’t.
It only confirmed what she feared.
Something had happened.
And it was already too late.
________________________________________________
Graham had left for Boston; he wrote on the sticky note left on the kitchen counter. But Sophie wasn’t sure for how long.
He’d slipped out in the middle of the night while she was sleeping, the silence he left behind louder than any of the shouting that came before.
He’d stormed out after she told him the truth: she’d been sleeping with Margo. His boss’s wife.
____________________________________________
A week earlier, Sophie had been driving Kyle unknowingly to rob one of his so-called friends when gunfire erupted. Her side mirror was damaged beyond repair.
Kyle, unfazed, took her to a guy who didn’t ask questions and worked fast. The mirror was replaced that same day.
But the real damage came later, the day Graham left for Boston. The dent left in the bumper from when she hit Kyle. She brought the car back to the same crew.
No paperwork. No questions. Just clean parts, fast work, and cash. They even washed the car, replacing the trunk’s carpet lining. No trace of blood. No sign of an accident.
She paid from her own savings to avoid Graham noticing the sizeable withdrawal. The car was spotless by the time Graham returned two days later.
_________________________________________
Graham got home 3 days later but Graham was still angry. Still wounded. Still unsure what to do with the betrayal.
“What happens if Jed finds out my wife’s been fucking his wife?” he half-yelled, pacing the kitchen.
Sophie didn’t flinch. “He knows Graham.
She let that hang in the air.
“So no, I wouldn’t worry about Jed,” she added, calm and cold. “He and Margo have an arrangement they can fuck all the women they want too”
Graham look at Sophie, not believing her, but not in the mood to fight any longer. “You better break it off, Sophie, his my boss, my income”
“I’m not seeing Margo anymore. And I don’t intend to.” Sophie said
They argued and screamed and finally a decision was made, they would try again for Jack’s sake.
Sophie only agreed because she had nowhere else to go.
Sophie told Graham she was going to look for work. Said she needed more than being a stay-at-home mom.
But the truth was, she needed out. She’d made the decision to leave a long time ago. And finding work will make that much easier.
She could go back to Boston but the only reason she decided to stay in Maple Brook was for Jack. If she could, she’d take him and run back to Boston.
But that wasn’t possible. Not now.
Just like she made the decision to leave Graham, she also made the decision to cut Margo Banks and any and every one affiliated with her out of her life.
She blocked Margo’s number. Blocked her entire circle. Instagram, phone, everything. She didn’t want to see Margo. Didn’t want to hear her voice.
And if she never saw any of them again, it would be even better.
Sophie called back the man in the hat, the one who’d gave her the information to connect the dots between Margo and Abby’s death.
“They’ve got an arrangement,” Sophie explained. “They sleep with women, sometimes separately, sometimes together.
They watch each other. It’s frequent, and it’s consensual.” “Margo told me herself,” she added. “And both she and Jed tried it with me, so I’ve seen it up close.”
It wasn’t the kind of intel he’d expected, but it was something. And something was better than nothing.
Sophie called Deputy Salazar back. She lied, said she just wanted to thank her for not giving up on the investigation. Said she was grateful it had been proven she was innocent.
She knew Salazar didn't believe her, but she hung up. And kept moving forward.
Two weeks after the cliff, Kyle’s body surfaced. No foul play suspected. The truck he’d been using had been reported stolen days before, so there was no link back to him.
But Sophie knew Margo knew. Knew Kyle’s death was her doing. And Margo knew Sophie knew about Abby.
They were tethered, each holding a secret that could destroy the other.
It took five weeks, but she finally found a job that interested her, marketing at a local Maple Brook office.
Most of the team weren’t from Texas. Roger was from Boston. Jessica from Springfield. Melissa and John were New Yorkers.
Sophie felt like she could breathe again. Their way of thinking, of moving through the world, felt familiar. Within two months, they were a tight-knit group.
She left Graham after her first paycheck. Moved into a two-bedroom apartment near the office. Jack stayed with her every other week.
The divorce wasn’t finalized, but she was done living the life Graham needed her to live.
Still, Margo lingered. In her thoughts. In her chest. Sophie’s heart still wanted her.
Still ached to forgive her. But her mind was in charge now. And her mind said no fucking way.
___________________________________________________
Margo knew Kyle was dead the moment he didn’t come home that night.
Sophie blocked her. Phone. Instagram. Everything. The silence was confirmation not just that Sophie was alive, but that something final had happened.
She was relieved Sophie was okay. But her heart still broke for her brother. She’d warned him to leave Sophie alone. He hadn’t listened.
When his body was pulled from the lake two weeks later, grief hit her all over again. Suspecting something was one thing.
Knowing was another. She didn’t push for an investigation. She didn’t need to. She knew Sophie had done it.
And she knew Sophie wouldn’t have, unless she’d felt threatened.
She tried calling Sophie. Again and again. But the number stayed blocked. Messages bounced. Instagram, gone.
Sophie hadn’t gone to the police. Margo knew why. Because if she did, she’d have to explain Kyle. And that meant exposing herself too.
They were bound now by silence, by guilt, by the weight of what they both knew.
Jed’s campaign was gaining momentum, and Margo was spending most of her time on the road, playing the part of the perfect wife.
Smiling at cameras. Shaking hands. Wearing the right dress.
But her mind kept drifting. To Sophie.
She’d heard from Jed that Sophie and Graham had separated. That the divorce was underway.
Sophie had taken a job at a marketing firm in Maple Brook. Margo imagined her there sharp, self-contained, surrounded by people who didn’t know what she’d done.
Margo, meanwhile, was waist-deep in her “renewed” affair with Callie. The sex was familiar. The attention was easy.
But her heart wasn’t in it. Her mind wandered at the worst times usually when Callie was touching her, whispering her name.
That’s when Sophie would appear. That’s when Margo would finally find release with Sophie lips on her mind.
She knew why Sophie was staying away. And she knew why she had to stay away too.
But it had been three months.
And the silence was starting to feel unbearable.
__________________________________________
It was Thursday night when Margo, Callie, Monae, and Taylor decided to try the new restaurant that had just opened the week before.
The reviews were glowing, and they were curious to see what all the fuss was about.
They had barely settled into their seats when Margo heard it, that laugh. Familiar. Unmistakable. Sophie.
She turned, instinctively, and there she was. Sophie sat with a lively group of men and women, possibly coworkers turned friends.
Their accents gave them away most were from out of state. Sophie looked radiant, completely in her element, seated beside a tall brunette with a strong Boston accent.
The two of them leaned into each other when they spoke, laughed easily, comfortably. Intimate.
Callie followed Margo’s gaze and saw her watching Sophie. As always, jealousy flared.
She saw the way Margo’s jaw tightened, the way her eyes narrowed not at the group, but at the brunette beside Sophie.
Margo couldn’t look away. That blonde hair. Those blue eyes.
She remembered what it felt like to be the one Sophie looked at like that, eyes full of want, of heat, of something dangerously close to love.
That smile, the one Margo used to believe was hers alone, now shared with someone else.
Sophie had seen Margo the moment she walked in. She caught her in the corner of her eye but refused to look directly.
She could feel Margo staring, but she kept her gaze fixed on her own table. On her people. On the brunette beside her.
Callie was there too, and Sophie didn’t need to look to know it. Callie, who had treated her like shit. Callie, who she knew Margo was fucking.
When Sophie stood up, Margo’s breath caught. She was ready to follow. But the brunette rose too, placing a hand gently on Sophie’s lower back as they made their way to the restroom.
Sophie wore a black mini dress, heels, her flawless makeup, her hair longer than Margo remembered, falling past her shoulders now.
The long-haired dark eyed brunette was dressed in a tailored black pantsuit, elegant and striking, slightly taller than Sophie in heels.
They looked good together. Too good.
Margo waited a few minutes, then followed.
Inside the bathroom, Sophie was exiting a stall just as the brunette entered another.
They shared a quick laugh about the cramped space, a joke about not being able to share it.
Sophie turned to the sink, washing her hands, and felt it before she saw it, Margo’s presence.
She looked up into the mirror.
There she was.
Margo. Gorgeous as ever. A low-cut top, as always, leaving little to the imagination. Sophie’s heart stuttered.
Her cheeks flushed. It was like no time had passed.
Her body remembered everything from the last morning they’d spent tangled in each other, the way Margo had looked at her, touched her, ruined her.
She turned around.
Their eyes met.
And everything else fell away.
Margo saw it all in Sophie’s face the shock, the heat, the ache. Reflected back at her, were months of silence, of longing, of unfinished business.
Hurt. Anger. Lust. Something that hadn’t been buried deep enough to die.
Sophie couldn’t look away.
Neither could Margo.
Three months of distance collapsed into that moment. And in the space between them, everything unsaid pulsed like a heartbeat.
Sophie was still the thing Margo wanted most. Margo was what Sophie needed.
Before either could speak, the toilet flushed. The stall door opened and out stepped the brunette.
She paused, caught off guard by the third presence in the room. But as she moved to the sink, her eyes met Margo’s in the mirror.
“Ah Margo Banks,” she said with a warm smile. “The Next First Lady of Texas.” She dried her hands with practiced ease. “Jessica Johnson. Nice to meet you.”
Margo clocked the Boston accent instantly. “Nice to meet you too,” she replied, matching the smile but Sophie knew better.
That smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Jessica turned slightly. “This is Sophie O’Neill,” she added.
“Oh, Sophie and I go way back,” Margo said, her gaze locking onto Sophie’s.
Her voice was smooth, but her eyes were sharp.
Sophie didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.
“You ready to go?” Sophie asked Jessica, her tone light but clipped.
“I am,” Jessica said, turning to Margo with a polite nod. “Enjoy you’re evening.”
Sophie said nothing. She walked past Margo without a glance, heels clicking against the tile.
Jessica held the door open for her, hand resting briefly on Sophie’s lower back.
Just before the door swung shut, Margo heard Sophie’s voice low, teasing, unmistakable.
“Your place or mine?”
And then they were gone.
Leaving Margo alone with the echo.
And the ache.