Chapter 70

Ethan Roscente's cold laugh cut through the air like a blade.

The hostility radiating from him threatened to tear her apart.

"I underestimated you," he said in a low voice, each word dripping with icy venom. "The Oscars owe you a golden statue."

Sophia Lowell's pupils constricted.

She had no idea what this sudden accusation meant.

Was he trying to back out of their deal?

Just as she opened her mouth to retort, the man abruptly released his grip and turned to Zachary Evans in the corner.

"Tell her," he said, leisurely adjusting his cufflinks, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. "So she can't claim I'm framing an innocent."

Zachary cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Horizon Tech won the bid at 190 million—60 million higher than our offer."

"Impossible!" Sophia blurted. "They're always conservative unless—"

She froze mid-sentence, meeting Ethan's glacial stare.

"You think I leaked the details?"

"Where's your proof?" Her voice trembled.

Ethan lit a cigarette, his sharp gaze piercing through the haze of smoke.

"A 60-million-dollar difference," he exhaled a slow ring. "The exact amount that appeared in your account."

Sophia felt as if she'd been struck by lightning.

Fury and despair churned in her chest before solidifying into cold numbness.

"Isabella Valentine was the last one to handle the proposal," she said, nails digging into her palms. "Why isn't she the suspect?"

"She doesn't need to." Ethan's tone was absolute.

Those words shattered her last shred of hope.

"So poverty is the original sin in your eyes," she laughed bitterly. "You'd rather frame me than question your precious fiancée."

The air turned to ice.

Zachary held his breath, wishing he could melt into the walls.

"Five million yesterday. Ten million today." Ethan stubbed out his cigarette. "Explain."

Sophia's entire body went cold.

"So you believe..." Her voice was feather-light. "I betrayed the company just to cut ties with you?"

The silence was the cruelest answer.