Chapter 7

Sophia Lowell curled up on her bed, blasting deafening music through her headphones. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped her phone, staring at the screen with unblinking intensity.

The door burst open.

"Aunt Emily?" She pulled off her headphones, brows furrowing. "Is everything settled in the front hall?"

Emily Laurent stormed in and smacked her shoulder hard. "You brat! I've been shouting for ten minutes! Are you deaf?"

The slap landed directly on the bite mark Ethan Roscente had left.

Sophia sucked in a sharp breath, subtly rubbing her shoulder. "I was too focused on the movie."

"When will you ever stop worrying me?" Emily stamped her foot in frustration.

Sophia lifted her icy gaze. "Isn't this all thanks to you?"

Emily's face paled. She reached out to grab her. "Sophia, let me explain—"

The blanket flew up as Sophia burrowed underneath. "I'm tired."

Emily's hand hung frozen in midair. Sighing, she turned to leave but suddenly noticed the wide-open window.

"Leaving the window open in the middle of the night? Are you trying to freeze to death?"

She hurried toward the window.

Sophia jolted under the covers. "I'll close it myself! Just go!"

The sudden outburst startled Emily, who retreated awkwardly.

The moment the lock clicked, Sophia leaped from the bed and rushed to the window.

The night was pitch black. Ethan was long gone.

He had jumped from the third floor.

Her legs gave way, and she slid down the wall, collapsing onto the floor. The cold night wind seeped into her collar as she hugged her knees, trembling uncontrollably.

Before dawn, Sophia slipped out of the ancestral house.

She took a scalding shower, refilled her calico cat's food bowl, and left with a piece of toast between her teeth.

The morning at the executive office was uneventful.

"Sophia! Over here!"

During lunch, colleagues waved her over in the cafeteria. The moment she sat down, gossip bombarded her.

"Did you hear Mr. Roscente spent the night at a hotel?" someone whispered with a suggestive smirk.

"No way!" another gasped. "Isn't he famously frigid?"

A phone screen was shoved in her face. The tabloid headline showed Ethan escorting a socialite into a hotel.

"Isabella Valentine, the Socialite Princess. A perfect match."

"So the arranged marriage rumors are true."

Amid the chatter, Sophia stared at Ethan's cold profile in the photo. Suddenly, the food in her mouth turned tasteless.