Chapter Text
The bell above the bakery door rang wrong.
Sophie Baek noticed it instantly, too sharp, too deliberate, all metal and no warmth. Not the familiar chime that meant a customer or Mrs Crabtree emerging from the back with a tray of still-warm bread. This sound carried authority.
She looked up.
Two uniformed police officers stood just inside the doorway, rain dripping from their coats onto the tiled floor. The chatter in the bakery died at once. Mrs Crabtree froze behind the counter. Mr Crabtree’s hand stilled mid-slice.
“Miss Sophie Baek?” one of the officers asked.
Sophie’s fingers curled slowly against the edge of the counter. She had learned not to flinch when her name was spoken like that.
“Yes.”
“You’re under arrest on suspicion of theft and fraud.”
For a moment, the words didn’t land. They hovered, absurd and unreal.
Mr Crabtree found his voice first. “That’s nonsense. She hasn’t stolen a thing in her life.”
Mrs Crabtree was already moving, snatching the phone from beneath the counter. “You do not touch her,” she snapped, glaring at the officer reaching for Sophie’s arm. “Not until someone explains exactly what this is about.”
“Ma’am, please…”
“She works for us,” Mrs Crabtree continued, voice shaking with fury. “We know who she is, and we know who’s behind this.”
Sophie barely registered the argument that followed. The room felt distant, muffled, as though she’d stepped underwater. She allowed the officers to guide her forward, the cold click of handcuffs echoing far too loudly in her ears.
Outside, London pressed in close, grey sky, damp pavement, curious stares. Someone lifted a phone.
Someone whispered her name.
The police car door closed with a final, echoing thud and Sophie knew one thing… Araminta Gun had finally decided to make her move.
Mrs Crabtree didn’t wait until the car was out of sight.
Her hands shook as she dialed, fury barely contained. The first call went straight to voicemail.
“Benedict, it’s Alice Crabtree,” she said, voice tight. “Sophie’s been arrested. The police just took her from the bakery. Call me back. Immediately.”
She tried again. And again.
No answer.
Her jaw set. She scrolled and pressed another number.
“Violet Bridgerton,” came the calm voice on the other end.
“Violet, it’s Alice…” Mrs Crabtree said, breathless. “It’s about Sophie. The police… they’ve taken her. Arrested her. Theft charges.”
There was a pause. Not shock. Not disbelief.
Stillness.
“I’m sorry,” Violet said carefully. “Where is she?”
“Camden station, I think. They wouldn’t say much.”
“I understand,” Violet replied. Her voice was steady, but something steel-hard had settled beneath it. “Thank you for calling me. We’re on our way.”
“We?” Mrs Crabtree asked faintly.
“I’m with Kate. We'd taken Hyacinth out ,” Violet said. “But Kate is Sophie’s lawyer, she’ll handle it.”
And then, softly but with absolute certainty, “Sophie won’t be alone. Araminta will not get away with this”
Sophie sat on a plastic chair bolted to the floor, hands folded tightly in her lap. No phone call. No explanation. Just the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant murmur of voices she couldn’t quite hear.
Her thoughts wouldn’t settle.
The documents Kate had shown her two nights ago.
The company she hadn’t known was hers.
The deposition scheduled in forty-eight hours.
You’re the heir, Sophie. Your father left you everything
She’s been stealing from you for years.
Araminta Gun had raised her on lies and cruelty. This was just another version of the same control, only louder, more public.
The station doors banged open.
Sophie looked up just as Violet Bridgerton swept inside, rain still clinging to her coat, eyes sharp and unyielding. Kate was beside her, already pulling papers from her bag, and the teenage Hyacinth followed, vibrating with barely contained fury.
“I’d like to see Sophie Baek,” Violet said calmly. “Immediately.”
The desk sergeant hesitated. “Ma’am, she hasn’t…”
“…been charged?” Hyacinth cut in brightly. “Yes, we noticed. That’s kind of the issue.”
Kate leaned forward, voice level and precise. “I’m her legal counsel. These charges are retaliatory and directly connected to an ongoing case involving Araminta Gun. A deposition is scheduled in two days. If you continue to delay, we’ll escalate and make the charges criminal and include you in for perverting the course of justice as well as abuse of process and I’d assume accepting bribes since Araminta Gun is well aware of the investigation into her wrongdoings with my client and to do this is breaching not only the restraining order but several other laws too.”
The sergeant swallowed as the colour drained from his face and disappeared into the back.
Hyacinth crossed her arms. “Don’t forget False imprisonment, by the way,” she added cheerfully to no one in particular. “Very serious.”
The chief detective arrived moments later.
And halfway through Hyacinth’s increasingly passionate explanation of civil liberties, the doors flew open again.
Benedict Bridgerton staggered in, breathless, phone still clutched in his hand. His face was pale, eyes wild with fear and fury.
He took in the scene in second, his mother standing unmovable, Kate in full command, Hyacinth mid-rant and then he saw her.
His beautiful Sophie.
Relief hit him so hard his knees nearly buckled. Rage followed immediately after.
He was here now.
And no one was taking her anywhere.
Benedict didn’t think.
He just moved.
The moment he saw her, really saw her, sitting stiff-backed on the plastic chair, hands clasped together like she was holding herself in one piece, something in his chest cracked wide open.
“Sophie.”
Her head snapped up.
For half a second she just stared at him, like her brain couldn’t quite accept that he was real. Then her lips parted, and whatever control she’d been clinging to wavered.
“You came,” she said, voice barely there.
Benedict crossed the room in three strides. He didn’t care who was watching, didn’t care about the police, the tension, the way the air felt charged. He dropped in front of her, crouching so they were eye level before kissing her softly. Not a kiss of passion but of terror and sheer relief that she was okay.
“I’m here,” he said, urgently. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”
Her hands were shaking. He took them without asking, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles, grounding himself in the feel of her skin because it proved she was safe. For now.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
The word hit him harder than anything else.
“No,” he said immediately. “No, Soph… don’t. This isn’t on you. Not for one second.”
Behind them, the room had gone quiet.
Violet stood a little straighter. Anthony had arrived sometime in the chaos and now hovered near the wall, jaw tight, eyes locked on Sophie like he was already calculating exactly how much damage Araminta Gun was about to suffer. Kate watched with a lawyer’s focus and a woman’s sympathy, arms folded but eyes soft. Hyacinth had gone uncharacteristically still.
Sophie tried to breathe. Tried to hold it together.
“I didn’t steal anything,” she said, too fast, panic creeping in around the edges. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I didn’t!! I’ve never!!! I swear I didn’t!!”
“I know,” Benedict said firmly. “Everyone here knows.”
“But they arrested me,” she said, voice breaking. “They just came in and…and everyone was watching and I couldn’t explain and they wouldn’t let me call anyone and I just…”
Her breath hitched.
Once.
Twice.
Benedict felt it the moment it tipped.
Her hands clenched in his, nails biting into his skin as her chest stuttered. She tried to pull herself together, shoulders lifting like she could physically shove the panic back down.
“I’m fine,” she said desperately. “I just need a second.”
She didn’t get one.
The sound that tore out of her wasn’t pretty. It was raw and wrecked and years in the making. Her forehead dropped against Benedict’s shoulder as the sobs came hard and fast, shaking her whole body.
“I tried so hard,” she gasped. “I did everything right and she still… she still gets to do this to me.”
Benedict wrapped his arms around her fully, pulling her into his chest, one hand cradling the back of her head. He didn’t shush her. Didn’t rush her.
“Let it out,” he murmured, voice thick. “You don’t have to be strong right now.”
Her fingers twisted into his jacket like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
“I didn’t even know it was mine,” she sobbed. “The company, the money… I didn’t want any of it, I just wanted her to leave me alone. I just wanted a quiet life.”
Kate stepped closer then, voice gentle but steady. “Sophie,” she said. “Listen to me. What she’s done is going to blow back on her. This arrest won’t stick. I promise you.”
Sophie shook her head against Benedict’s shoulder. “She always wins.”
“No,” Violet said quietly.
Sophie looked up at her, eyes red and wet and utterly exhausted.
Violet crossed the remaining distance and knelt beside them, her presence calm and grounding. She reached out, smoothing a hand over Sophie’s hair with a tenderness that nearly broke Benedict’s heart.
“She doesn’t win this time,” Violet said. “You are not alone anymore. And we do not abandon our own.”
Hyacinth sniffed loudly. “Also, for the record, she’s going to regret this for the rest of her miserable life.”
That earned a watery, broken laugh from Sophie, half-sob, half-disbelief.
Anthony cleared his throat, voice low and controlled. “No one is touching you again. Not today. Not ever.”
Sophie sagged then, the fight finally draining out of her. Benedict held her tighter as she cried herself empty, surrounded by people who weren’t leaving, who had shown up, stormed a police station, and wrapped themselves around her without hesitation.
For the first time since the sirens, Sophie Baek felt safe enough to fall apart.
And Benedict stayed exactly where he was, arms locked around her, daring the world to try and take her again.