StoryScope for Venus Retrograde in Scorpio : THE EX FACTOR
The first time Sophie Vale saw her ex-husband after seven years, he was standing behind her in a jewellery shop holding a knife.
She screamed.
He screamed.
The jeweller screamed louder than both of them.
Then Daniel lowered the knife.
« It's not for you, » he said.
Sophie stared at him.
« That is an absolutely appalling thing to say to a woman who divorced you. »
« I panicked. »
« You brought a knife to a jewellery shop ! »
« I was cutting the display wire. »
« With a hunting knife ? »
Daniel looked at the knife.
« It was the only thing I had. »
Sophie looked at the jeweller.
The jeweller looked at Daniel.
Then the lights went out.
Someone shouted.
A glass cabinet smashed.
And when the emergency lights flickered back on, the jeweller was gone.
So was the diamond.
Sophie looked at Daniel.
Daniel looked at Sophie.
« You haven't changed, » she said.
« You have. »
« I'm still capable of recognising a criminal when I see one. »
« Good. »
« Are you one ? »
« No. »
« Then why are you here ? »
Daniel leaned closer.
« Because someone is trying to kill you. »
Sophie laughed.
Then she noticed the blood on his sleeve.
« Oh. »
« Yes. »
« That does complicate things. »
It had started three days earlier with a wedding invitation.
Not hers.
Her former fiancé, Marcus Bell, was getting married.
To someone else.
Sophie had been invited because Marcus's mother apparently believed that mature adults could attend weddings together after spending two years of their lives planning a marriage and another six months fighting over who got the espresso machine.
Sophie had intended to decline.
Then she received the second envelope.
No invitation.
No name.
Only a photograph.
It showed Sophie and Daniel on their wedding day.
On the back, someone had written:
You should have stayed together.
She assumed it was a joke.
She had underestimated how many people found other people's divorces entertaining.
Then her bank account was emptied.
Not hacked.
Not stolen.
Transferred.
Every penny of her savings had been moved into an offshore account she had never heard of.
The transaction had been authorised using Daniel's old password.
A password Sophie herself had chosen.
She called the police.
They asked whether Daniel had access to her accounts.
« Not since the divorce. »
« Are you sure ? »
« I divorced him. I didn't erase him from the planet. »
Then Daniel appeared.
With a knife.
And blood on his sleeve.
The next twenty-four hours became increasingly absurd.
Sophie discovered that Daniel was investigating a financial fraud involving the jewellery shop.
Daniel discovered that Sophie had accidentally become the beneficiary of a trust worth four million pounds.
Sophie discovered that Marcus's forthcoming marriage was being financed by the same company involved in the fraud.
And Daniel discovered that someone had been following Sophie for six weeks.
« Why didn't you tell me ? » she asked.
« You wouldn't have believed me. »
« I once believed you when you said you'd fixed the washing machine. »
« I had fixed it. »
« You put a towel over the leak. »
« Temporarily. »
« For eight months. »
« It worked. »
« The bathroom ceiling collapsed. »
« Eventually. »
She glared at him.
He smiled.
That was the problem.
Seven years had changed almost everything about Daniel.
Except the smile.
It still made her furious.
It still made her heart behave like an idiot.
They spent the night in a hotel under false names.
Sophie was given the name Mrs Smith.
Daniel was Mr Smith.
« Absolutely not, » Sophie said.
« What ? »
« We are not married. »
« It's a fake name. »
« Then give me a different one. »
« Mrs Jones. »
« Still married. »
« Ms Smith ? »
« Better. »
Daniel looked at the receptionist.
« Two rooms, please. »
The receptionist smiled.
« Of course. »
« And separate floors, » Sophie added.
The receptionist stopped smiling.
« Trouble in paradise ? »
« There is no paradise, » Sophie said.
Daniel sighed.
« She's right. »
At two in the morning, Sophie woke to find Daniel sitting beside her bed.
She reached for the lamp.
« What are you doing ? »
« Someone's outside. »
She froze.
A shadow moved beneath the door.
Daniel whispered, « Don't move. »
Sophie whispered back, « I'm wearing a face mask. »
« What ? »
« It dries if I move. »
The shadow stopped.
A key entered the lock.
Daniel pulled Sophie towards the wardrobe.
The door opened.
A figure stepped inside.
Sophie held her breath.
Daniel raised the knife.
Then Sophie sneezed.
The intruder swore.
Daniel lunged.
There was a brief, chaotic struggle.
A lamp fell.
Someone screamed.
Sophie hit the intruder with a hairdryer.
He collapsed.
Daniel stared at her.
« You just attacked a man with a hairdryer. »
« It was ceramic. »
« That makes no difference. »
« It does to me. »
They tied the intruder to a chair.
He was a private investigator.
His name was Robert Hale.
He had been hired by Marcus.
And Marcus had hired him to find out whether Sophie knew about the trust.
But Robert had been followed.
By someone else.
Someone who wanted the trust for themselves.
Someone who knew exactly how Sophie and Daniel had met.
Someone who knew exactly why they had divorced.
The truth finally emerged at Marcus's wedding.
Sophie and Daniel arrived together.
Not because they were reconciled.
Because Daniel had discovered the person behind the fraud.
Sophie had discovered the same person.
Unfortunately, they had reached different conclusions.
« It's Marcus, » Sophie whispered.
« No. »
« His mother ? »
« No. »
« The jeweller ? »
« No. »
« Then who ? »
Daniel looked across the ballroom.
At the woman laughing beside the champagne fountain.
Sophie followed his gaze.
Her own face went pale.
« My sister. »
Daniel nodded.
Sophie stared.
« My sister has been stealing from me for years ? »
« Apparently. »
« I hate family gatherings. »
Her sister noticed them.
She smiled.
Then she pulled a gun from her handbag.
Daniel grabbed Sophie.
They ran.
The wedding erupted into chaos.
Guests screamed.
The bride threw herself behind a cake.
The groom climbed beneath the gift table.
Sophie and Daniel sprinted through the kitchen, pursued by her sister.
They reached the loading bay.
Locked.
Daniel looked at Sophie.
« Any ideas ? »
« Yes. »
She kissed him.
Daniel stared at her.
« Now ? »
« You were distracting me. »
« From what ? »
« Being terrified. »
The kiss lasted three seconds.
Possibly four.
Long enough for Sophie to remember everything she had tried to forget.
Then she stepped back.
« Right. Now I can think. »
« I preferred the other strategy. »
« Daniel. »
« Yes ? »
« Door. »
He looked.
There was a fire exit.
They escaped.
The police arrived six minutes later.
Her sister was arrested.
The trust was recovered.
Marcus's wedding was cancelled.
The bride kept the cake.
The groom kept the champagne.
And Sophie went home alone.
Three weeks later, Daniel appeared at her door.
He was holding flowers.
Sophie looked at them.
« Those are roses. »
« Yes. »
« I hate roses. »
« I know. »
« Then why did you bring them ? »
Daniel smiled.
« Because I'm trying to prove I've changed. »
Sophie folded her arms.
« That's not how flowers work. »
« I know. »
« Good. »
He held out a second bunch.
Tulips.
Her favourite.
Sophie stared at them.
« You remembered. »
« I remembered everything. »
She looked at him for a long moment.
« I'm not going back to what we were. »
« Neither am I. »
« I don't want another marriage built on fear, jealousy, or pretending everything is fine. »
« Neither do I. »
« And if you ever bring a hunting knife into my workplace again, I will call the police. »
« Fair. »
She opened the door wider.
« Dinner ? »
Daniel smiled.
« Is that a date ? »
« No. »
« What is it ? »
Sophie thought about it.
Then smiled.
« An investigation. »
« Into what ? »
She stepped aside.
« Whether you're worth keeping. »
Daniel laughed.
« That's terrifying. »
« Good. »
She closed the door behind him.
Neither of them noticed the envelope lying on the doorstep.
It contained a photograph.
Of Sophie and Daniel.
Taken that morning.
On the back, someone had written:
Round two.
And beneath it, in smaller handwriting:
Don't fall in love again.
Sophie opened the door.
Daniel looked at her.
« What is it ? »
She held up the photograph.
He stared at it.
Then smiled.
« Well, » he said, « at least we know someone is rooting for us. »
Sophie sighed.
« That is not what I would call rooting. »