Chapter 63

"Move." Sophia didn't even glance at Charlotte, her voice dripping with disdain.

She had no patience for spoiled heiresses like her.

Charlotte stepped in front of Sophia, blocking her path. "Desperate for cash, aren't you?"

Sophia tightened her grip on the milk tea. "None of your business."

Charlotte smirked. "I know exactly what you are—a gold-digger with no connections. Smart move, trying to get close to Ethan Blackwood at the Fu family's concubine selection. Too bad he just used you and tossed you aside."

Sophia's jaw clenched. She wanted to walk away, but Charlotte's friend blocked the exit.

"You've got ambition, I'll give you that." Charlotte tilted her head. "I spotted my cousin Alexander Kensington the second I walked into that banquet. But let me enlighten you—the Thorntons don't associate with charity cases. Even if Alexander pitied you, he'd never lend you a dime."

The words cut deep.

Sophia remembered the humiliation of asking Alexander for money that night. She could already imagine the whispers in their elite circles—Look at that beggar, shameless enough to ask a stranger for cash.

As if two thousand dollars meant anything to them.

But to her, it had been survival.

Her face burned, but she refused to show weakness. Instead, she met Charlotte's gaze coolly. "Your breath stinks."

"What?" Charlotte blinked.

"Your breath. It's foul." Sophia enunciated clearly.

Charlotte's face twisted. "You—"

"Oh, and your hairpiece fell." Sophia glanced at the ground. "You look like a lunatic with it hanging like that."

Charlotte gasped, bending to snatch the fallen accessory.

Sophia walked away.

"Wait!" Charlotte called after her. "You need money, don't you? I have a job for you."

Sophia paused.

She did need money. Badly.

If she could earn enough to pay back Liam Sterling, she'd take any opportunity.

She turned.

Charlotte grinned. "There's a luxury cruise event coming up. They need performers—people to play witches, wicked stepmothers, that sort of thing. Three nights, four hours each. Tips alone could get you over ten grand."

Ten thousand. In three nights.

Sophia's pulse quickened.

But she wasn't naive. "Why help me?"

"Help you?" Charlotte laughed. "Please. You're pretty enough to catch men's attention—Ethan Blackwood kissed you, Alexander spoke to you. I just want them to see you humiliated."

Sophia understood.

Charlotte wanted her to play the fool.

But if it paid, she didn't care.

"Deal."

Charlotte's smile widened. "Perfect. Come to this address after work for a costume fitting." She handed Sophia a card for a boutique across from the old theater.

Sophia pocketed it without a word.

That evening, Sophia called her mother. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait up."

Victoria Blackwood's voice was warm. "Don't worry about me, darling. Focus on your work."

After hanging up, Sophia headed to the boutique.

The shop was lavish, filled with gowns ranging from cheap to couture.

Charlotte was already there, waiting.

The first outfit was a tight leather skirt—cheap and vulgar.

The makeup artist didn't bother with primer, leaving Sophia's skin dry and cakey. By the time they finished, she looked like a streetwalker.

Charlotte clapped. "Perfect. Now, let's try the wicked stepmother look."

Sophia obeyed, stepping outside to test the reaction.

Passersby sneered, assuming she was soliciting.

Charlotte beamed. "Exactly what we need."

But before Sophia could go back inside, an elderly man blocked her path.

"Stop right there."

Sophia turned. There was something familiar about him, though she was sure they'd never met.

"Yes?"

His eyes were ice. "Are you the girl harassing my grandson?"

Sophia frowned. "Who are you?"