Paul Harrison climbed the marble steps of his Beverly Hills mansion with a bouquet of red roses — Sophia’s favorite — in hand. Today marked five years since the day he first saw her at an art gallery, the day he was instantly captivated by her beauty.
Back then, she seemed like a dream. Long chestnut hair draping her shoulders, deep brown eyes that promised mystery. For six months, Paul courted her relentlessly: expensive gifts, romantic getaways, dinners at the city’s best restaurants.
Sophia hesitated at first, cautious, even aloof. She came from a respectable but modest family — her father a doctor, her mother a university professor — and while they lived decently, Sophia always longed for more: glamour, admiration, luxury.
She had competed in beauty pageants as a young woman but never won first place. Each third-place finish left her seething. Less beautiful girls, in her view, seemed to glide effortlessly toward success while she felt invisible.
When Paul began pursuing her, she didn’t take him seriously. He was older, respectable, successful… but too proper for her taste. Over time, however, his attention, generosity, and genuine support softened her view.
Paul promised to help her realize her dreams.
«You could be a model,» he said. «You have the beauty and presence.»
Sophia worried she was too old at 24, but Paul reassured her: «That’s no obstacle. You just need desire… and the right support.»
That promise tipped the scales.
Their wedding was the event of the season. A historic mansion, designer dress, exquisite flowers — everything Sophia had dreamed of. In the early years of marriage, Paul kept his promise. He paid for the best photographers, arranged magazine shoots, fashion shows… but Sophia’s career never took off.
Despite her beauty, agents quietly passed on her. She lacked that intangible charisma that sets true stars apart.
Bitterness replaced hope. Sophia blamed photographers, agents… and eventually Paul himself:
«You could buy me a modeling agency!» she snapped one evening.
«Sophia, you can’t buy success,» he answered gently. «You have to earn it.»
Her resentment grew. She began imagining that Paul secretly mocked her failures.
Then Brandon Cole entered their lives.
Paul’s charismatic best friend from college — outgoing, funny, a natural charmer. While Paul was gallant but reserved, Brandon was bold, flirtatious, and thrillingly unpredictable. He became a regular guest in their home, and Sophia couldn’t help but be drawn to him.
Brandon understood her frustration in a way Paul didn’t. He listened, encouraged her ambitions, offered new ideas:
«Why not acting? Hosting? You have presence.»
He validated her sense of injustice. He fed her resentment. And gradually, their relationship deepened — first emotional, then physical.
Secret meetings escalated into something more dangerous: Sophia wanted a life with Brandon. But divorce would leave her penniless — the prenuptial agreement was airtight.
So Brandon proposed another solution:
«Accidents happen, Sophia. Especially to exhausted, stressed businessmen.»
At first horrified, Sophia slowly warmed to the idea. Brandon procured a slow-acting poison that would weaken Paul’s heart undetected. For two weeks, Sophia added it to his evening tea.
Paul, feeling unwell, assumed it was stress.
But fate intervened. He came home early that day, roses in hand. As he climbed the stairs, he heard voices through the bedroom door — Sophia and Brandon speaking in low, intimate tones.
Paul froze as Brandon’s voice cut through the air:
«In a few more weeks, no one will suspect a thing. The will’s in place, everything goes to you.»
Sophia laughed softly.
«Poor Paul. So naïve, so trusting.»
Paul’s heart pounded. He crept closer, peeking through the crack in the door — and saw the woman he loved tangled in the sheets with his best friend.
The bouquet fell from his trembling hands, thudding to the floor.
«What was that?» Brandon asked sharply.
«Probably the cat,» Sophia dismissed.
But Paul couldn’t stay hidden anymore. He shoved the door open, and they both froze.
Sophia gasped:
«Paul! You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow!»
Brandon, completely unashamed, smirked:
«Hey, old man — you’ve got the worst timing.»
Paul’s mind reeled as the truth crashed over him: betrayal, lies, and murder.
«How long?» he choked out.
«About a year,» Brandon replied smoothly. «And we started the poison two weeks ago. You ruined everything by coming home early.»
Suddenly, Brandon’s hand darted toward the nightstand — where a pistol lay.
Paul’s survival instincts kicked in. He bolted from the room just as Brandon grabbed the gun.
«Stop!» Brandon shouted. A gunshot rang out behind him, narrowly missing Paul’s head.
Paul ran, glass shattering and bullets whizzing past him. He ducked into the guest bathroom and locked the door as Brandon pounded on it from the other side.
«You won’t get out of here,» Brandon taunted. «Sophia — get the axe!»
Paul’s fingers trembled as he dialed the security service.
«Help,» he whispered urgently. «They’re trying to kill me. Armed. In my house.»
«Hold tight, Mr. Harrison. We’re on our way,» came the reply.
Outside the door, Brandon’s fury grew louder. The door shook as he kicked at it, the sound of his rage mixing with Sophia’s nervous laughter.
Paul took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. His entire life had shattered in the span of minutes — but he wasn’t going down without a fight.
