Sofia’s stepmother didn’t even let her pack properly. “Take your things and get out,” she hissed, slamming the door behind the grieving teenager. With nowhere to go, Sofia remembered her father’s last advice: “Find Mikhail.”
The ‘Breeze’ restaurant was elegant, intimidating. When she whispered her father’s name, the owner’s face changed. “Grigory’s child?” he breathed.
Mikhail hadn’t seen his old friend in years—not since they’d both loved the same woman. Now, faced with Sofia’s tears, he didn’t ask questions. He gave her a home, a future.
Then came the night the restaurant’s singer canceled. Sofia stepped up, her voice weaving magic through the room. As she sang, Mikhail saw her mother in her smile, her father in her strength.
Years later, when her stepmother—proud, remarried, and oblivious—sat at a front-row table, Sofia didn’t flinch. She sang louder.
Because some doors don’t just lead to shelter. They lead to revenge—and redemption.
