When Alex and I started dating, I fell hard for how he doted on his daughter Sophie. “Her mom walked out when she was seven,” he told me. His devotion as a single father seemed proof of his character. Sophie, then thirteen, was another story – coldly polite, never meeting my eyes.
I tried for months to connect with her. Baking cookies resulted in silent chewing. Movie nights ended with her retreating to her room. “She’ll come around,” Alex promised. I wanted to believe him.
On our wedding day, Sophie burst into my dressing room, shoving a phone in my face. “Listen,” she demanded, playing a recording of Alex bragging to his brother about my savings account. “Two years max, then I’m out,” his voice said clearly. Sophie’s hands shook. “I recorded this weeks ago. I didn’t know how to tell you.”
Confronted with a prenup, Alex’s fury was terrifying. “You ungrateful little bitch!” he screamed at Sophie. In that moment, I saw the truth. I canceled the wedding immediately.
Now, Sophie lives safely with her grandparents. We exchange letters sometimes – she’s applying to colleges now. As for Alex? Last I heard, three other women came forward with similar stories. That brave girl didn’t just save me; she may have saved others too.
