Chapter 297

This was truly the one thing that made all the difference.

Sophia couldn't help but smile faintly.

But it was fine. At least there was a father like Ethan, someone who could ensure Lily would live without worry for the rest of her life, free from suffering and bullying. Even if Sophia died right now.

As long as Lily survived, it would be the greatest comfort to her.

Lost in these thoughts, Sophia didn’t notice when Ethan stepped out of the playroom. He was on the phone, his voice low as he strode into his study, shutting the door firmly behind him—leaving her standing outside.

Just then, Lily emerged from the playroom. Spotting her mother, she waved excitedly, her tiny face alight with mischief. "Mom, crouch down!"

Sophia knelt, and Lily whispered in her ear, "Mom, are you mad at me?"

Sophia shook her head. "Why would I be mad? The more people who love you, the happier I am." She cupped Lily’s face gently. "Sweetheart, Ethan is your father—your real father. Look how alike you two are."

Lily’s expression turned serious. "Mom, I can’t beat the mean dad yet. So I’m pretending to like him. It’s not real."

Sophia blinked in surprise.

Lily’s small fingers curled into fists as she declared, "I’ll protect you, Mom."

Sophia’s heart swelled.

She pulled Lily into a fierce hug. "You’re my precious girl. Thank you, my love."

When she looked up, Ethan was standing in the doorway of his study, watching them with an unreadable expression.

Lily stuck out her tongue at him. "Was that the old man calling again? Does he still want me to pick his nose? He lost to me!"

She meant William Blackwood.

In just one day, the old man’s condition had improved dramatically. And yes, it had been William on the phone.

After a hearty dinner, too energized to sleep, he had demanded Ethan’s attention.

"Ethan, I know you despise that woman. You don’t need her—but the child stays with the Blackwoods!" William’s voice brooked no argument.

Ethan remained silent.

William pressed on. "Even if she’s a girl, she’s still the only heir to our family. A Blackwood doesn’t belong in the outside world. Bring her to the manor. Even if you marry Isabella later, the child will remain our granddaughter. She’ll want for nothing."

Ethan’s reply was curt. "Understood." Then he hung up and walked out.

He knew exactly what his grandfather—and father—were thinking.

The Blackwood lineage was dwindling. Now that they had a granddaughter, they clung to her like a miracle. And Lily, with her fearless spirit and sharp wit, had charmed them instantly.

Ethan’s gaze flicked to Lily, who scowled back at him.

Then to Sophia, whose eyes were icy with distrust. The sight irritated him.

After everything—after the nights tangled together, the heat between them—she still looked at him like he was a threat.

"Be ready early tomorrow," he said abruptly. "We’re taking Lily to school together."

Sophia frowned. "After we drop her off… how do I get back?"

"After we drop her off," Ethan said coolly, "we’re going to the courthouse to remarry."

Sophia stared. "…What?"

"Remarry."

For several seconds, she just looked at him. Then she laughed—a hollow, disbelieving sound. "You and I are enemies. You nearly destroyed me. You exiled my brother. You claimed I owed you ten million. And now you want to remarry?" Her voice was eerily calm. "I don’t understand these high-society games of yours, Ethan. And I refuse to play. Do whatever you want to me—but leave me out of this."

Not a trace of anger. Just quiet, unshakable resolve.

Without waiting for a response, she turned away. "Lily, bath time. Then bed."

Love?

In this house, neither she nor Lily had any real power.

Half an hour ago, they’d been a picture-perfect family—feeding Lily, building blocks together. But it was just an illusion.

Lily obediently followed Sophia to wash up, then curled up in bed as her mother read her a story.

Ethan’s study door stayed shut.

Was he asleep?

Sophia didn’t care to guess. She retreated to her own room, but sleep wouldn’t come.

Her dreams were fractured—memories of that absurd day when Ethan had dragged her straight from prison to the courthouse. The humiliation. The helplessness.

She wouldn’t do it again.

If Ethan forced her to remarry, what of Isabella? Wouldn’t she become the woman’s target once more?

Sophia’s life had been derailed too many times—jail at twenty, hunted at twenty-three. She wouldn’t survive another purge.

Remarry?

Never.

But that resolve lasted only until dawn.

At 6:30 AM, Ethan’s sharp knock jolted her awake.

Bleary-eyed, her hair a tangled mess, Sophia yanked open the door.

Before he could speak, she rasped, "I won’t remarry you. Marrying you once was the worst mistake of my life. I won’t make it twice. Whatever your reason is—no."

Ethan’s expression darkened.

He seized her wrist. "Listen carefully. This isn’t about you. It’s about our daughter. She’s a Blackwood—she won’t grow up in a broken home. If you ever want to see her again, you’ll remarry me. Quietly."

Sophia paled. "What do you mean—‘see her again’?"

Ethan’s smile was cruel. "You’re not stupid. You know exactly what I mean."

"No!" Her voice shook. "You can’t do this! I carried her for nine months, raised her for five years—you weren’t there! You don’t get to take her now!"

Ethan’s grip tightened. "She’s my blood. My heir. Did you really think I’d let you keep her? You’ll never see her again unless you obey."

Sophia’s knees buckled.

This couldn’t be happening.