"You should only judge someone when you have seen their three faces."
— Bella Angel Douglas
Sofia's POV
The night had been long. Hours spent in the bathtub, warm water swirling around me, rose petals floating like tiny reminders of control. I had replayed Antonio's words, his glance, the cold measurement in his eyes. And when I finally drifted to sleep, I made a promise to myself: today, I would show him all my faces.
I rose at 5:30 AM. The first rays of the sun filtered through the blinds, painting my room gold. My muscles were stiff from yesterday's workout, but discipline doesn't allow excuses.
In my walk-in closet, I pulled on black leggings and a blue sports bra. I flexed lightly in the mirror — shoulders firm, core engaged. My breathing was steady. Fatu handed me the gym protein, and I nodded, already counting each rep in my head, envisioning perfect form before even touching a dumbbell.
By the time I stepped onto the treadmill, my pulse had settled into a rhythm. Feet pounding the belt, heart steady, sweat collecting at my hairline — I felt alive, in control, unshakable. Discipline, focus, power. All without a word.
After cooling down, I sipped my protein slowly. Fatu left quietly while I meditated for ten minutes, eyes closed, drawing strength from the calm. When I opened them, the world felt sharper, more mine.
The bathroom was next. Hot water poured over me, and I let the scent of rose petals and a drop of AdellaCrystal's coconut-carrot oil envelop my senses. The steam wrapped around me like a shield. I traced my fingers along my arms and shoulders, acknowledging the softness, the strength — all mine. A small indulgence, but intentional.
Dressing was deliberate. Red knee-length dress from F & T, boots laced tight, heels clicking with purpose. My hair in a neat French braid framed my face, and I finally looked at myself in the mirror. I didn't just see a woman preparing for the day; I saw someone who refused to be underestimated.
Coleman opened the car door with a quiet nod. My Rolls Royce Phantom gleamed in the early light as we pulled out. People stared — sometimes admiration, sometimes envy — but I felt nothing. I wasn't driving to impress anyone. I drove to remind myself that life could be beautiful, even after hardship.
The orphanage flashed briefly in my mind — seventeen years without breakfast, bullies like Beatrice hiding my food. I swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. Gabriella, my subconscious, whispered reminders: "Focus on the present. Lessons, not grudges."
I nodded to her silently. Yes, I had learned. Yes, I have grown.
Today's first stop was church. Radio Maria played softly, mixing with the hum of the engine. I closed my eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply, tasting control. This was my morning. My ritual. My preparation for whatever came next.
Sandra looked surprised when I called Daniel Woods to set the appointment with Antonio. "We should have let him wait longer," she whispered, half teasing, half cautious.
"No," I said firmly. "We keep the schedule. It's our responsibility, not his. He may have insulted me, but that doesn't justify disrespecting our own professionalism."
The rest of the day flowed — work, prayers, quiet reflection. My stomach reminded me I hadn't eaten, so I packed up, deciding to return home for a simple meal, a bath, and a little indulgence: chocolate and ice cream.
Every action was intentional. Every movement is a statement. I didn't need words to assert myself; the way I carried my body, the way I planned my day, the way I treated myself — these were my messages.
Antonio had underestimated me. Today, I would show him that there were more layers to me than he could see. Two faces he already knew — the professional, the friend. Today, he would catch a glimpse of the third: the real me.
And when he did, I would stand unshaken, quiet but undeniable, soft but strong.
Author's Note
Did she do the right thing?
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Xoxo
Bella