Chapter 27
This place catered exclusively to the elite–the rich, the powerful, the untouchable. Its security was airtight, leaving no room for anyone to sneak in let alone someone like Sophia, who supposedly had no means to her name.
The fact that she was standing here could only mean one thing–someone had brought her in.
And for a woman who had nothing left after leaving the Stewart Family, who could possibly have that kind of influence! It had to be a man.
“Don’t read too much into it, Ethan Chloe cooed softly, her tone laced with just enough innocence to sound sincere. “Sure, a lot of men had their eyes on her back at The Abyss, but I’m certain Sophia isn’t that kind of woman”
Her words sounded like a defense, but each syllable was a dagger, meant to draw blood. Then, as if struck by a sudden realization, Chice tilted her head and blinked, feigning confusion “Oh, Sophia, didn’t I see you getting into Mr. Years car earlier? What happened? Did he not take you home?”
The mention of Trisian carried a deliberate air of curiosity, her probing as sharp as glass underfoot.
Back at the entrance of The Abyss, Sophia had indeed stepped into Tristan’s car–a car Chloe wouldn’t even dream of approaching. But now, Sophia had somehow shown up here, tailing Ethan and herself
Didn’t that tell the whole story! Chloe thought. It meant Tristan never intended to send her home. At best, he’d given her a courtesy ride, probably to save her the embarrassment of being left in the street. But once they were out of sight, he must have kicked her out of the car.
In her opinion, a woman like Sophia–born into nothing, now fallen even further–couldn’t possibly hold the attention of someone like Tristan.
That nd, Ethan and Chloe really had a knack for sharing the same twisted train of thought. As soon as Chloe voiced her insinuation, Ethan’s mind latched onto the same idea.
Tristan Years, the head of the illustrious the Years Family, was far beyond reach–even for someone like Ethan How could someone like Sophia even dream of catching his attention!
Thinking of that, a bitter laugh escaped him, cold and sharp as a blade. His eyes narrowed on Sophia, dripping with scorn
“Is this really the best you can do?” He smirked. “Hiding behind the name of Tristan Yeats, pretending you’re something you’re not? Trying to make me jealous! Throw me off my game? But where is he now, Sophia?”
The words rolled off his tongue, venomous and cutting, as if they were the only antidote to the chaos brewing inside him–the burning irritation and the stabbing ache that hit him the moment he saw Sophia step into Tristan’s car.
“Do you honestly believe someone like you could catch Mr. Yeats‘ eyer He continued, “He probably just humored you for a moment, maybe out of pity. Don’t kid yourself, Sophia. You’re nothing but a cheap distraction”
To Ethan, Sophia was nothing more than his plaything. She was meant to endure his ridicule and bask in the scraps of his attention. Even if he no longer wanted her, she had no right to be anywhere else. She was supposed to wait, loyal and desperate, for his rerum.
And now, she was trying to act like she didn’t care! Like she’d moved on? The very thought filled him with rage. He wanted to rip apart this illusion she had created, to shatter her pride into a thousand jagged pieces.
His gute
darkened, a storm of malice brewing in his eyes. He wanted to crush her, to grind her self–worth into dust, to see her stripped of her defiance and groveling for a place by his side.
He was ready, eager even, to watch her fall apart, to see her walls crumble, and to witness her pride lay shattered at his feet.
However, Ethan’s spiteful fantasies and the smirk creeping onto his lips were abruptly shattered by a voice as cutting avice.
“You seem to know me very well, don’t you?” said the voice.
The tone was glacial, with a venomous edge that coiled around Ethan’s chest like a snake, its icy grip tightening until his heart clenched painfully His breath hitched, and his face turned ashen as he whirled around, fear fhickering in his eyes.
Approaching them with an unhurried yet commanding g stride was a man whose very presence seemed to lower the temperature in the room.
He was tall and strikingly composed, dressed simply in a crisp white shirt and perfectly tailored black trousers, but the simplicity only served to enhance his aura. The muscle beneath his shirt hinted at restrained power, while his long, straight legs gave him an effortless air of refinement.
His face, cold and sculpted like something out of myth exuded a frosty indifference. Hazel eyes, as deep and unyielding as a midnight abyss, held a quiet menace as they fixed unerringly on Ethan, freezing him in place.
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Chapter 27
Ethan stiffened, his body betraying him as a wave of suffocating dread crashed over him. His lips trembled, the words sticking in his throat as he stammered, “Mr. Yeats How could this ber
Tristan Yeats. Of all people. That Mr. Yeats right in front of him! Ethan screamed out in his heart. Why was he here! More importantly, why was he here with Sophia!!
In that momem, the gears in Ethan’s brain–usually sluggish, if not outright stalled–finally creaked into motion. Sophia had left The Abyss in Tristan’s car. Now, she was standing here, in this high–end restaurant–a place where wealth and power mingled–because Tristan had brought
The thought hit Ethan like a punch to the gut, his heart skipping a beat before hammering heavily in his chest. Panic and anger surged in equal measure, a fiery cocktail of emotions burning through the last vestiges of his fear.
That sharp, familiar ache stabbed at him again, but this time he refused to saccumb to it
Ethan’s gaze flicked back to Sophia, jealousy and rage simmering just beneath the surface
Sensing his intent, Tristan shifted subtly, his stance deceptively casual as he stepped into Ethan’s line of sight. The move was deliberate–an unmistakable act of defense, like a shield raised to protect what was his.
“You didn’t expect me here?” Tristan’s brow lifted in a cool arch, his lips curving into a sardonic smirk to Ethan. “I wasn’t aware I’d become so chummy with you.”
her
ing under the weight of Tristan’s sharp, unyielding gaze. His mouth opened, but the words refused to
Ethan’s pupils contracted, his throat tightening
come.
Was it just his imagination, or did Tristan’s voice carry an unmistakable undercurrent of hostility!
No. Thought Ethan. That couldn’t be. He’d never crossed Tristan. It had to be something else. Unless it was because of Sophi
Ridiculous! He immediately brushed the thought off. That made no sense.
But just then, Chloe, clinging to Ethan’s arm, tightened her grip
grip. She leaned closer, her breath brushing his ear as she whispered, her face caught somewhere between shock and hesitation. “Erbon, I think….. Mr. Yeats came from upusins. And_ he’s wearing different clothes.”
Her hesitant words struck like a bolt of lightning. Upstairs was the hotel If Tristan had come from there, and he’d even changed clothes…
There wasn’t much room for doubt. Adults didn’t need it spelled out
Ethan’s pupils shrank to pinpricks, his face darkening to a stormy shade. His gaze sharpened into icy daggers, curting past Tristan as he glared at Sophia with barely restrained fury.
But once again. Tristan moved. Another effortless shift, his frame subtly blocking Ethan’s view like a wall that couldn’t be scaled. The motion was calm, almost nonchalant, yet it carried an unmistakable message—absolute protection.
That unspoken declaration, that instinctive defense of Sophia, sent Ethan’s blood boiling. A wildfire of rage and frustration ignited in his chest, blazing through every last shred of control as the tempest inside him roared unchecked, obliterating reason and restraint
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