A translucent gas mask was pressed over her nose and mouth.
“Count down from ten…”
Sophie woke up from surgery with her face on fire. Everything hurt, and the parts that didn't hurt were uncomfortably numb.
She sat up. Saw Alex. And was promptly sick.
Then she passed out again.
When she woke, she felt better. There was a nice humming all around her, and she was swaddled in a big thick blanket like a newborn baby.
She fell asleep again almost immediately.
When she woke up again, an indeterminate amount of time had passed. But she recognized the view from the window. They were on the island. There was no mistaking the waterfall, or the soothing sounds of the wild.
“Hey, you," Alex murmured. He was beside her. He had been beside her all the time, keeping watch over her.
Now she had progressed through her recovery enough to be awake most of the time. It turned out being awake post total facial reconstruction absolutely sucked.
Recovering got worse as time went on. The less pain, the fewer painkillers, the more her brain was free to roam and scream internally one question over and over again: what had she done?
“I must look like a monster,” she said one sunny island afternoon.
“You’re beautiful. Even all bruised up.”
“You don't know. I’m covered in bandages like a mummy."
“Not for much longer. They’re coming off soon. This afternoon, Maria says.”
Maria had been acting as a nurse, providing bandage changes and medications. The woman had not said a word to Sophie throughout the entire ordeal, but her touch was kind and she was good at making sure her meds stayed topped up.
She was being looked after, waited on hand and foot by both Marias and Alex. She was the center of this very little world, which made her feel very special, cared for, and yes, loved.
“I don't know if I want to see my new face. I want to pretend I have my old one still.”
"You don't have to look,” Alex said.
But she did have to. If she didn't look on purpose when the bandages were removed, then she would accidentally see herself and probably freak the fuck out.
So, that evening, the bandages were unwound for the final time, and a mirror was presented.
"You still have a little swelling that will come down over time,” Alex told her. “But you look beautiful. You always have, and you always will.”
"I'll be the judge of that," Sophie asserted.
She opened her eyes and looked in the mirror.
“Wow. I have black hair.”
As if that was the major change. It was barely a change at all compared to the way the rest of her face had been rearranged.
Her eyes had been reshaped to look exotic and cat-like, her nose was neater and smaller than it had been, her cheekbones higher, her jaw slimmer, and her mouth wider.
“I look like a model.”
“You look like Sophie Rosu.”
She looked at Alex, her full lower lip trembling. “Can you love me like this? With this face that isn't mine?”
His expression softened. “Sophie, I would love you any way. What we have been through transcends appearance.”
“But it doesn't hurt that I'm hot, right?"
"You've always been hot, brat.”
Smiling hurt, but it was a good hurt. The kind of hurt that made her feel like she was on her way to healing.
Chapter 21
Three months later, Sophie was back in New York.
Back without fear. Back with new confidence and a new motivation. There were many tests ahead, and she was about to face her first major one: a party. A party where Alex would present her as his partner, and she would see some of the men responsible for her downfall.
“This is walking into the lion’s den and not having the lions notice that you are the sacrificial lamb," Alex said, zipping up a black sequined gown which complemented the curves of her figure and highlighted her raven hair and bright blue eyes.
She felt a thrill running down her spine. Before Alex, she would have been far too terrified to do anything like this. Standing up to superiors in the context of work was one thing, but risking life and liberty to reappear inside the circles she had been forever banished from? That was fucking magic.
The party was being held in a stately home on the banks of the Hudson. Alex escorted her through the gardens and into the interior, introducing her to various people and making small talk until… there he was.
Fucking Christo.
Standing right in front of her, smiling broadly in that superficially charming way he had. She wanted to march up to him and slap him right in his stupid, smug face. But she had to hold back. She was Sophie Rosu now, she was elegant and refined. She didn’t hit people. Not that she ever had as Sophie Pierce either.
“Christo, this is Sophie Rosu,” Alex introduced her.