Chapter 4

“Interesting.” The man chuckled and was about to say more when Josephine cut in.

“Enzo, you’re drunk, aren’t you? You see one woman and lose your mind. Do you even know who you’re holding?”

Her smile sharpened.

“This is the Watson family’s second daughter. Sophia Watson.”

The room went silent.

Josephine’s voice drifted through the quiet, sweet as poisoned syrup. “Three years ago, right before her sister’s wedding, she pushed that sister down the stairs. Then she went to prison for attempted murder.”

A perfectly synchronized hiss of shock passed through the room.

By then, Sophia’s eyes had adjusted to the dim light. More than twenty people crowded into a private room that could barely hold them, every face turned toward her with naked fascination.

A bitter little laugh rose in her chest. She had only been released from prison. She had not climbed out of a coffin.

But Josephine’s next words killed even that scrap of humor.

“Sophia, why are you standing there? Sit down and drink with us.”

Josephine pushed a glass into her hand. The liquid inside was a murky, dark red, half-transparent and dangerous-looking.

One glance told Sophia it was a bomb made from several kinds of liquor.

Once Josephine started, the others followed. The room came alive again, everyone laughing, everyone urging Sophia to drink.

The man who had groped her retreated the moment he understood who she was. He sat far away, as if her name carried a contagion.

People in their circle were never stupid about danger. The Watson family had publicly cut ties with Sophia, but Watson blood still ran in her veins. There were lines these people knew not to cross.

Humiliation, though? Humiliation was safe.

Sophia looked down at the glass in her hand. A bitter smile touched her mouth.

Before Aiden could speak, she tipped her head back and drank it all.

At the top of Williams Group, the city’s neon lights burned against the dark glass of Oliver Williams’s office.

Leo stood where the light from the windows did not quite reach him and reported in his even voice. “Mr. Williams, Scarlet has arranged work for Ms. Watson according to your instructions. I just received word from Isla. A group of rich kids led by Ms. Jenkins took Ms. Watson into a private room to drink. Isla asks whether she should intervene.”

Oliver stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at Sterling’s restless night. His hands rested in front of him. His right thumb slowly turned the pinky ring on his left hand.

After a long silence, he asked, “The Jenkins girl? Josephine Jenkins?”

“Yes. Aiden Sanchez is with her. He came as her date.”

A sound escaped Oliver’s throat, low and edged with mockery. “If he’s there, let them play. No need to interfere.”

The image of Sophia’s face rose in his mind, too similar to Isabella’s and yet wrong in every way that irritated him.

Three years had passed, and that woman had only grown more false.

Fine. He wanted to see how long she could keep pretending.

By then, Sophia had lost count of how many glasses she had swallowed.

Since walking out of Blackwood that morning, she had not eaten a single thing. Hunger had already hollowed out her stomach. Now liquor burned through the emptiness until every part of her felt raw.

Laughter and urging voices crowded her ears. Drink. Come on, drink. Don’t be boring. Someone shoved another glass into her hand. Someone else spilled liquor down the corner of her mouth and onto her dress.

She felt as if she had been soaked inside a barrel of alcohol.

The red silk clung wetly to her body, outlining the narrowness of her waist and the curve of her hips. The slit that had been designed to flatter her legs invited hands that did not belong there.

Aiden tried several times to stop her from raising the glass, but Josephine remained glued to his side, blocking him every time he moved.

Then someone’s hand slid toward the inside of Sophia’s skirt.

Sophia only stared at the cup in her hand, drunk enough now that she did not seem to register it.

Aiden’s anger broke.

He shoved Josephine off him, grabbed Sophia by the wrist, and pulled her toward the door.

Sophia was drunk. Her body had no strength left. Only sheer will kept her upright. Her legs were damaged to begin with, and the heels made every step treacherous.

They had barely made it two paces before her balance gave out and she pitched sideways.

Aiden’s pupils tightened.

He moved in one sharp turn, stepped in front of her, caught her by the shoulders, and lifted her fully into his arms.

The noise in the room died at once.

Under a dozen stunned gazes, Aiden carried Sophia out of the private room.

“Mm... put me down.”

Liquor had climbed all the way to Sophia’s throat. Being held sideways compressed her stomach, and she felt certain she was seconds from vomiting.

She struggled to get down.

Aiden misunderstood the movement completely. His face hardened, dark eyes flashing with anger. “Sophia, are you really this eager to degrade yourself?”

Sophia’s stomach was churning too violently for her to process his words.

If he kept holding her like this, she was going to throw up all over him.

“Let go.” She shoved hard, dropped out of his arms, and hit the floor when her knees folded beneath her.

The impact gave a dull thud.

Pain shot through her. Her alcohol-numbed mind cleared by a fraction.

Aiden’s arms stayed suspended in the air for a beat, still shaped around the place her body had been. His hands slowly closed into fists.

His jaw tightened. Fury thickened his voice. “Are you that reluctant to let go of your old life? They were forcing you to drink because they wanted to watch you fall apart. Who still treats you like the Watson family’s second daughter now?”

Sophia lifted her head in confusion.

What was wrong with him?

Isabella had been Aiden’s first love. Even after they broke up, he had never truly forgotten her. By all rights, he should hate Sophia. Everyone believed she had pushed Isabella down the stairs.

Their ending had been clean enough to look merciful from the outside. No screaming. No explanation worth keeping. One day Isabella had belonged beside him; the next, she was standing under Oliver’s name, unreachable.

“You destroyed her, and you destroyed yourself,” Aiden said. “Now you’re finally out of prison. Why not start over and live like an ordinary person?”

“Aiden...”

Josephine hurried after them. She knew Aiden had never forgotten Isabella. Seeing Sophia’s face, that almost unbearable echo of her sister’s, made him look wrong in a way Josephine could not tolerate.

She had not reached him when footsteps sounded from the other end of the corridor.

Oliver appeared with Leo behind him.

“I didn’t realize this part of the building was so lively.” Oliver’s pace was unhurried. “What are you all doing out here?”

Sophia turned her head.

Oliver walked to her side. She was still sprawled on the floor, and his shadow covered her completely.

He looked down at her, frowning. “Sophia, you’re supposed to be greeting guests at the door. What are you doing here? That dress wasn’t issued so you could mop the floor with it.”