Chapter 67

Ethan Blackwood's gaze fell upon a meticulously detailed design sketch. It was entirely hand-drawn, with precise annotations filling the margins—each line and note deliberate, refined.

The style was unmistakable.

It bore a striking resemblance to the rough draft Sophia Montgomery had left behind in his doorway days ago.

But this version was polished. Every correction had been reconsidered, every adjustment perfected.

"Who submitted this?" Ethan demanded, his voice sharp.

His assistant hesitated. "Ah—it was sent by an assistant from Sterling Holdings' design department. A Miss... Montgomery, I believe?"

"Bring me to her. Now."

"Yes, Mr. Blackwood." The assistant hurried alongside him, explaining, "She's waiting at reception. You'll see her shortly."

Sophia, however, had already frozen at the sound of his voice.

Him?

Her pulse spiked. This wasn’t how she wanted to face him—not here, not over something unrelated to Victoria.

Ethan Blackwood was a storm she couldn’t weather.

She spun on her heel and bolted.

Before he could step into the lobby, she slipped into the elevator, jamming the button for the ground floor.

"Miss Montgomery? She was just here—" The assistant frowned, scanning the empty space.

Ethan moved to the window, his expression unreadable. Below, a slender figure emerged onto the sidewalk, her posture rigid, her steps quick.

She looked like a shadow against the city’s brilliance—isolated, untouchable.

A bus swallowed her up.

Ethan exhaled, turning away. "Use this design."

"Yes, sir."

Back at Montgomery Designs, Sophia delivered her report. "The client accepted the artwork, Director."

"Excellent." The man waved a dismissive hand. "I’ll see about your bonus."

"Thank you." She hesitated. "Also... may I leave an hour early tomorrow?"

"Fine, fine."

Gratitude flickered in her eyes before she retreated.

The moment the door shut, the director smirked. "Pathetic."

In an office of polished professionals, Sophia was an anomaly—her clothes cheap, her presence ignored.

No one treated her as an equal.

Just a glorified errand girl.

When she stepped out, whispers followed:

"Honestly, why hire someone like her?"

"She’s useful. Runs faster than the cleaning staff."

A scoff. "Have you seen her? That face could be dangerous if she tried."

"Please. Look at what she wears. Fifty-dollar rags."

The chatter died as she returned.

Sophia heard it all.

She didn’t care.

A job meant survival.

That evening, she sat by Victoria’s bedside, her throat tight.

The older woman had grown frailer, her vitality slipping away.

Sophia’s eyes burned.

"Silly girl," Victoria murmured, stroking her hair. "Why cry?"

"Mom—" The word tore free. Sophia buried her face against her. "Don’t leave me. Please."

"You have Ethan. You’ll have a family."

Sophia nodded fiercely. "I’ll bring you flowers. Every day."

She didn’t say the rest—that she’d ensure Victoria had the finest funeral wreaths money could buy.

She would earn that ten thousand.

"Tomorrow... I can’t visit. I’m working late."

Victoria smiled. "You’ve done enough."

The next afternoon, Sophia left early.

Three bus rides later, she stood at the harbor, staring at the glittering cruise ship.

Its opulence was staggering.

Out of place.

Just like her.

She dialed Charlotte Kensington. "I’m here."

A laugh crackled through the phone. "Eager for your money? Don’t worry—if you impress them tonight, you might earn fifty thousand."

Sophia’s voice stayed flat. "Where should I go?"

"Wait. I’m coming."

Ten minutes later, Charlotte arrived—with two men in tow.

One was Liam Sterling.

Sophia’s breath caught.