CHAPTER SEVEN

From Raymond's view...

The boardroom hummed with quiet anticipation. Raymond leaned back in his chair, expecting the usual display of brute force—a fight that would determine the strongest candidate. Thomas, his most reliable contender, had never lost a match before. His victory was inevitable.

Or so Raymond thought.

Then, she stepped forward.

Sophia Jones.

She wasn't what he had envisioned—a woman facing off against Thomas? It should have been laughable. And yet, as she secured her hair with an effortless motion, something in the air shifted.

There was no hesitation in her stance. No fear. Just a quiet, unshakable confidence that set her apart from every other candidate before her.

Raymond found himself watching with an intensity he didn't quite understand.

The moment the fight began, it became clear—this wasn't a battle of brute strength. It was something far more intricate, more calculated.

Sophia didn't just fight. She moved.

Like flowing water, each motion was deliberate, controlled. She was faster than Thomas, outmanoeuvring him with ease. Every block, every counterattack was timed to perfection. It was as though she could predict his every move before he even made it.

Raymond leaned forward. His breath hitched as she twisted mid-air, delivering a flawless spinning kick that sent Thomas crashing to the ground. Silence followed.

Then came the applause.

Raymond was on his feet before he even realised it.

For the first time in years, he wasn't just witnessing another competitor.

Sophia Jones was different. And he needed to understand why.

***

At the doorway, Sophia embraced Anthony, her heart heavy with guilt.

"I'm really sorry, Tony," she murmured. "I never wanted to leave like this."

Anthony studied her, then gave a small smile. "You don't have to explain, Sophia. You've always put your family first."

Her throat tightened. She wasn't used to people understanding.

He chuckled softly. "Besides, you fought for me that night at Canary Wharf. That means something."

Sophia sighed, then smirked. "If you ever need help with chemistry, you know where to find me."

Anthony's eyes widened. "How did you—?"

"Just a guess. Most boys hate chemistry."

"Maybe," he laughed, before growing thoughtful. "You talk about your brothers a lot. I'd like to meet them one day."

She nodded. "Someday, you will."

A wistful silence settled between them before Anthony added, "But one day, you'll get married, and I won't see you as often."

Sophia scoffed. "Married? That's a long way off."

He shook his head knowingly. "Women never know when they're about to be proposed to."

"Maybe, but they usually have a boyfriend first," she teased. "And I'm completely single."

Anthony held her hand gently. "That doesn't mean you won't find someone. Just because Sammie's gone doesn't mean you're any less incredible. My dad always said, 'Before love, build yourself first.' You deserve someone who sees your worth."

His words struck deeper than she expected.

As he kissed her cheek and walked away, tears welled in her eyes.

How could an eighteen-year-old be so wise?

***

Raymond stood by the window, watching.

Sophia was outside, helping Catarina clean the doorway.

Since that day in the boardroom, she had become an enigma.

How could a woman so skilled in combat carry herself with such warmth?

Who exactly was Sophia Jones?

He intended to find out.

***

Later, as Raymond and Sophia drove through Hessel Street, a strange unease settled over her.

Her instincts, honed by years of training, screamed a warning.

Then, she saw them.

Five masked men stepped into the road, blocking their path.

Sophia reacted instantly, locking the doors and turning to Raymond. "Stay inside."

Without waiting for a response, she stepped out.

The men advanced, their weapons glinting under the streetlights.

The first lunged at her with a metal pipe.

Sophia moved fast—sidestepping before twisting his arm behind his back, forcing him to the ground with a sharp elbow to the ribs. He crumpled instantly.

The second man charged, swinging a knife. She ducked, rolling beneath the attack before launching into a roundhouse kick that sent him crashing into a wall.

The others hesitated.

She took advantage, striking first.

One by one, they fell. Each attack was met with swift precision, each movement fluid and unrelenting.

Within minutes, only one man remained. Dazed. Stumbling backward.

She didn't need to fight him. He ran.

Breathing heavily, Sophia turned back to the car.

Raymond was still watching her through the window, his expression unreadable.

When she climbed inside, he silently reached for the first aid kit, carefully tending to the bruise on her hand.

She tensed under his touch.

"I already called my father," he muttered. "But no one will believe you took them all down that fast."

She shrugged, ignoring the warmth spreading through her at his unexpected tenderness.

Then, out of nowhere, he whispered, "My heart's pounding."

She blinked. "Because of the fight?"

"No." His gaze locked onto hers. "Because of you."

Her breath caught.

Before she could respond, the car door swung open.

"Thank you."

Will Smith's voice was thick with emotion as he pulled her into an embrace.

"You saved my son."

Sophia, caught off guard by the overwhelming gratitude, simply nodded.

But as they drove back, a cold realisation settled in.

The enemy was closer than they had thought.

And Sophia?

She was no longer just an outsider.

She was part of this fight now.