Eight Years After...
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Perhaps many years have passed. Perhaps some who were said to be dead still live. Perhaps not.
No one can truly tell.
We should have a view of our dear Sophia's life now... for not all endings were so perfect.
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The morning had begun like any other. Sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows. The smell of toast and coffee. The sound of Lily's laughter from the garden.
Sophia had been happy. Or as close to happy as a woman like her could be.
She had everything she had ever wanted. Fame. Fortune. A devoted husband. A beautiful daughter. Her books were bestsellers. Her face was on magazine covers. Her name was whispered in literary circles with a mixture of admiration and fear.
She had won.
Or so she had believed.
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"Ahhhhhhhh! Mummy!"
The scream tore through the house like a blade. Sophia dropped the frying pan. It clattered against the tiles, sending scrambled eggs across the floor. She did not care.
