Sofia's mind swirled into chaos and turmoil as she repeatedly read the conversation over and over again
Sofia's hands trembled as she stared at the screen. The words before her eyes blurred, not because of the glare, but because her heart couldn't accept what she was reading.
Each line felt like a knife, carving out the truth she never wanted to believe.
Her uncle, Joe Grayson, the man who once bought her birthday gifts and told her bedtime stories when she was a child, was the one behind her death.
"No… this can't be," she whispered, shaking her head. But the evidence was staring right back at her, undeniable, cruel. The conversation between him and the original Sofia Green, plotting her murdere left no room for doubt.
She bit her lower lip, her breath shaky. "But something doesn't add up," she muttered, dragging her fingers through her hair. "Uncle Joe wasn't at my engagement ceremony. I haven't seen him for years. So how…"
Her words trailed off. The thought struck her like lightning.
"The hitman that night… he couldn't have known Alex and I would take that route. Unless…"
Her heart thudded hard against her ribs. "Unless someone told him."
Her stomach turned. Was there another person? Someone closer? Someone feeding Joe information?
The idea made her skin crawl.
Sofia clenched her fists, pressing them against her temples. "No, no, no…" she whispered, trying to drown the storm in her head. But the questions only grew louder.
"If he could work with someone to have me killed… then what's stopping him from targeting my parents next? My real parents."
She stood abruptly, her chair screeching against the floor. "I can't let that happen," she breathed. "Not again."
For a moment, silence filled the room as it was heavy and suffocating. She could almosthear her own heartbeat.
"I'll hire mercenaries," she decided aloud, pacing. "If private investigators can't do it, I'll find people who can." Her voice was steady now, controlled. But beneath it was a current of desperation she couldn't hide.
"I must find the man that killed me as soon as possible."
After a few deep breaths, her pulse began to slow. But even as her body calmed, her mind wouldn't. There was something she couldn't shake. A tiny, persistent feeling kept gnawing at her chest.
"What am I forgetting?" she whispered. She glanced around her office, as if the walls themselves could give her the answer. Then, it hit her.
"Today… today is supposed to be my funeral."
Sofia's mind was clouded in so much thoughts to the point that she forgot about something very important.
Her lips parted, her breath caught. The irony burned. She had missed her wake, locked away in confusion and grief, but she couldn't… she wouldn't… miss her own funeral.
—
That afternoon, Sofia stood before her mirror, staring at the reflection of the woman she had become. Elena Grayson, trapped in another body.
Her long dark hair framed her face, her eyes slightly puffy from crying, yet there was a cold determination in them.
She brushed her fingers across the hem of her black dress. It felt almost symbolic, mourning herself, wearing black for her own death.
"This is insane," she murmured. "But I need to see them. I need to see everything with my own eyes."
Her phone buzzed with reminders, meetings, calls, a lunch appointment with one of the board members. But Sofia didn't have the time or space for any of that. She quickly canceled them all.
No one needed to know where she was going. Not today.
When she stepped out of the Green building, the sun was bright and warm, a sharp contrast to the heaviness in her chest. The world kept moving, uncaring of her pain or emotion.
She didn't take her usual car, nor did she bring her driver.
Instead, she called an Uber, the driver greeting her politely as she climbed in.
"Where to, ma'am?"
"Fleming's Cemetery," she said quietly.
The man gave a short nod, not asking any questions. The ride was silent, just the sound of the wheels drifting against the road and the wind brushing past the window.
It was a long rise, but they finally exited Autumn Hill.
As the city gave way to the outskirts, Sofia stared outside, her reflection faint against the glass. Each passing street sign brought her closer to the place where her old life was being buried for good.
When they arrived, she asked the driver to stop a few blocks away. "I'll walk from here," she said softly.
He hesitated but didn't press further. After paying, she stepped out and began walking toward the cemetery gates, her heels sinking slightly into the damp earth.
The air was heavy with the scent of flowers and fresh soil. From a distance, she could already hear the faint murmur of people, voices she once knew, now gathered to mourn her.
She moved quietly, avoiding attention. Her footsteps were slow, careful, as she slipped behind a row of tall cypress trees near the far edge of the cemetery.
Her eyes scanned the field, searching. And then she saw them, familiar faces, all dressed in black.
Her father, Maxwell Grayson, stood tall and motionless, his face pale but strong. Her mother was beside him, supported by relatives. Friends from the company. Distant cousins.
Every familiar face she saw made her heart ache a little more.
Her throat tightened. She wanted to run to them, to tell them she was here, alive. But she couldn't. Not yet.
Tears stung her eyes. She bit her lip, trying to hold them back, but when she saw the large framed photo of her, Elena Grayson, sitting beside the white casket, her knees nearly buckled.
"This is surreal," she whispered shakily. "I'm standing at my own funeral."
Her vision blurred. She clenched the edge of a nearby tree to keep herself steady.
Then, in the distance, a familiar sound cut through the air. The low hum of an engine Her eyes followed the noise as a sleek black car pulled into the cemetery driveway.
The door opened, and out stepped Alex.
Sofia froze. Her heart stopped for a moment before it began to race uncontrollably.
He was dressed in a black suit, his expression unreadable but his eyes heavy with pain. He looked older somehow, weighed down by grief.
Sofia's breath caught in her throat as tears finally streamed down her cheeks, uncontrollable and warm.
Seeing him there, mourning her, it shattered what little strength she had left.
"Alex…" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Streams of tears poured freely now, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Because no matter how much she wanted to deny it, she knew the truth.
Elena Grayson was gone.
And Sofia Green, or whatever she had become, was the only one left to carry the pain.