Chapter 495

Yet in his eyes, you remain nothing more than a plaything—a captive in gilded chains.

Sophia ended the call without a word.

Ethan: "..."

The silence unsettled him.

What was wrong with her?

What thoughts swirled behind those guarded eyes?

Just as he considered calling to demand answers, a flurry of doctors rushed into Elder Thornton's ward.

His pulse spiked.

He followed, finding the old man gasping, lips flecked with foam, his breath ragged. The medical team sprang into action—administering medication, wheeling him toward emergency care.

Amid the chaos, Ethan stepped aside, determined to reach Sophia. But first, he checked the surveillance feed.

The living room: empty.

The guest bedroom: vacant.

Her private quarters weren't monitored, but a sweep of the hallway revealed the bathroom door ajar.

The camera panned inward.

There she stood at the vanity, bare-shouldered, smoothing cream over her skin.

Ethan's lips curled.

How domestic.

Except Sophia wasn't pampering herself. The salve was medicinal, a gift from the ER physician to soothe her bruised cheek. Once applied, she tugged on oversized pajamas and shuffled to his bedroom—collapsing onto sheets that still carried his scent.

The man watching scoffed and shut off the feed. No call would be made tonight.

But what he didn't see?

The tears soaking his pillows.

She wept for her own weakness. After everything, she still craved the safety of his space—the musk of his cologne, the memory of his arms around her on the rooftop swing.

How had things fractured so quickly?

She burned to ask: What is Cassandra to you?

Why does she hold such power?

But voicing it would only deepen the humiliation.

Let Cassandra come.

Ruined reputation? Public scorn? She'd survived worse.

Resolved, she slept—deeply, dreamlessly—until dawn.

Next Morning

Breakfast unfolded with practiced normalcy.

Lily, syrup smeared on her chin, bounced in her seat. "Mommy! Since Daddy's away, can we have McDonald's? He always says no—calls it 'plastic food.' Just this once?"

Sophia laughed. "Deal. We'll feast like rebels."

"Yay! You're the best!"

Their banter dissolved into giggles—until her phone shrilled.

Sophia's smile died.

"Hey, sweetheart," she murmured, guiding Lily toward the closet. "Pick our outfits while Mommy takes this, okay?"

The child skipped off, humming.

Cassandra's voice dripped honeyed venom. "Enjoying your meal, darling?"

Sophia's grip tightened. "Thought of fresh torments?"

"Clever girl."

"Let me guess—this isn't about Isabella. Or family loyalty." Sophia's laugh was razor-thin. "This is about you coveting Ethan's bed."

Silence. Then—

"How dare—"

"Save it. Women like you don't risk scandals for cousins." Sophia's whisper turned lethal. "Harm me all you want. But touch Lily? I'll show you what a cornered animal can do."

Cassandra's breath hitched.

She'd underestimated this mouse.

Fine. Let her play defiant. Tomorrow would break her.

"Two PM. The Kensington Grand. Be late, and the consequences will be... creative."

Sophia hung up—only for the phone to ring again.

"What?"

"Don't you want to know what we've planned?" Cassandra purred.

"Will knowing stop you?"

"Then why ask?"

A pause. Then Sophia's voice dropped to ice.

"Strip me. Humiliate me. I don't care. But remember—even prey bites back."

The line went dead.

Across town, Cassandra hurled her phone against the wall.

"You wretched—"

Tomorrow, the world would see Sophia Montgomery destroyed.

And she'd savor every second.