Chapter 3

Sophie Reed was almost hidden behind a mountain of merchandise she was carrying. Except for the tiny slits on the sides, she was practically invisible from the front. As she cautiously stepped back to give space, Kevin Strong, standing in front of Carter Blake, couldn't catch a glimpse of her face.

The moment Carter initiated the conversation, Kevin was visibly startled. "Carter, do you know this lady?" Kevin glanced instinctively at the slender legs visible beneath the pile, a mix of curiosity and confusion in his tone.

"Uh-huh," Carter responded nonchalantly, causing Sophie's expression to freeze momentarily.

Just a month ago, she had gone to great lengths to convince Kevin that she wasn't one of Carter's overzealous fans or remotely interested in Carter's contractual disputes. Being caught red-handed with a trove of Carter Blake memorabilia would make her denial seem like the ultimate hypocrisy. The thought of enduring Kevin's incessant nagging made Sophie wish she could just disappear along with these two nuisances.

As Carter's fingers gently played with a doll from the top of the pile, his chuckle echoed subtly in the confined space of the elevator. Leaning back casually, he remarked in a voice as relaxed as sunlight scattered through leaves, "Met her before, just staff."

"Huh, but all these items," Kevin leaned in closer to inspect the box, "they look a lot like your album merch..."

Sophie's grip on the box tightened imperceptibly at the mention, the bracelets on her wrist catching the elevator light, casting a soft shimmer. She remained silent, her eyes fixed on the ground.

Carter's gaze lingered for a moment before he casually shifted his attention back to Kevin, giving him a nudge with his chin in a signal to back off.

Kevin, puzzled by the sudden gesture, started to object but swallowed his words when he caught the cool, almost amused glance from Carter. "Step back a bit," Carter advised with unaffected ease, "You're invading her space."

Kevin was at a loss, his feelings of indignation and confusion mingling in his wide-eyed stare.

Carter paid him no mind.

After Carter and his manager left the elevator, Sophie finally relaxed. Watching Carter's tall figure disappear into the closing elevator doors, Sophie wondered if he had recognized her. But it didn't matter to her—so long as his overprotective manager didn't bother her again.

"Why are you just getting here?" Sophie, burdened with a heavy box, was greeted by a complaint as soon as she entered Vivian Hart's dressing room. An assistant, whose name Sophie couldn't recall, gestured for her to place the box on a nearby table. "The charity event starts in thirty minutes, and Vivian still needs to pick out albums and merchandise for Carter Blake to sign. You cutting it close."

"I'm not capable, you are," Sophie retorted dryly, massaging her wrist, devoid of any emotion. "Why don't you do it?"

The assistant, taken aback by Sophie's lackluster gaze, muttered under their breath before knocking on the inner door.

Vivian Hart, fully made up and ready, hurried out, not sparing Sophie a glance as she headed straight for the box. After some deliberation over the merchandise, which all looked the same to Sophie, Vivian finally asked her assistant, "Should I take the fourth or fifth anniversary edition? Which one do you think he'd like more?"

"I think they're both great."

"Sigh, I have to choose one," Vivian pondered, then turned to Sophie, who seemed lost in thought. "Which one do you think?"

Sophie glanced briefly at a doll that Vivian had been holding, thinking its white fur seemed somewhat vain. "The left one."

"Then I'll take the right," Vivian declared triumphantly, discarding the other back into the box. "Let's head to his dressing room. After that, we'll go directly to the gala."

The assistant, visibly excited, asked, "Can I come too? I've never seen Carter Blake up close."

"Hard to say if you'll even get a glimpse," Vivian frowned, "His manager is practically paranoid. Getting to meet him is like trying to reach the heavens."

"I heard Carter Blake is especially aloof, not keen on mingling with people from the industry," the assistant pondered quietly.

"That's nonsense. Our Carter is definitely approachable."

Sophie, gazing out the window at the evening sky, yawned lazily. Approachable, indeed. Some fans' delusions are as good as being blind!

As Vivian Hart left, she caught a glimpse of Sophie Reed leaning lazily against a corner. Sophie's slender legs were flexed beneath her dungarees, and her simple white tee shirt dipped slightly at the waist, highlighting an effortlessly captivating beauty. "Sophie Reed, you don't need to come. Just grab your bag and wait for me outside the gala hall later," Vivian decided abruptly, her expression souring at a thought.

Sophie, mid-yawn, was surprised to find an easy escape from a situation she was dreading. Luck was a rare visitor in her life, yet here it was, making a timely entrance. "Alright," she agreed quickly, seizing the moment without hesitation.

She headed to the room to collect her bag, the sunset casting a brilliant glow through the window, filling the room with dazzling light. Meanwhile, Kevin Strong sighed in frustration, "Seriously, reconsider. The company won't budge, and with less than half a year to a peaceful contract termination, why endure such loss?"

"There's nothing to consider," Carter Blake replied, his tone indifferent, lounging back. "The anniversary single must be my own work; they can't touch it."

"But you've been struggling with inspiration, dissatisfied with your creations. The company isn't asking for a full takeover, just a section to be handled by their international team. They're professionals, discreet..."

"Then I won't write at all," Carter interrupted, his disinterest evident. His eyes, previously shut, now open, glinted with a cold detachment under the shadow of his hair, as if icy edges were blooming into flame.

Kevin knew better than to push further. Carter's tolerance had its limits, and his pride was unyielding. Kevin doubted he'd live to see anyone change that.

"Carter, your arrogance is bound to get you into trouble," Kevin muttered, increasingly agitated by the thought.

Carter chuckled softly. "Perhaps, but I'm still handling my single."

Kevin sighed deeply. "The company's offering an unprecedented investment for your final anniversary album under contract. If you bail now, they'll replace it with something equally demanding—either a major variety show or one of those idol dramas that have been queuing up from our door to West Second Street. Don't regret it later."

Carter frowned slightly at Kevin's words.

Noticing this, Kevin scoffed, "What, now you remember how terrifying your fanbase can be?"

Carter seemed unfazed, relaxing back into his chair. "No PR stunts, no kissing scenes."

"As if the company's doing charity work. Your forced termination is like a courtesan's exclusive night, once in a lifetime. They'll surely cash in on that—if the script lacks a sensational kissing scene, I'll change my name.

After sending a fiercely typed message, Kevin felt somewhat relieved. "Alright, if it comes to it, we'll use a body double for close shots. The production team wouldn't want to be cremated by your female fans."

Before Carter could respond, someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," Kevin called.

A head peeked in. "Kevin, Miss Vivian Hart is outside, wishing to meet her idol."

Kevin knew it was pointless to ask but turned to Carter anyway. "Will you see her?"

"Who?"

"Vivian Hart," Kevin added, remembering Carter's indifference to the entertainment circle, "The hot new star from Celestial Media. Her father is the CEO of HL Group—one of the most powerful figures in the industry."

"Not interested," Carter replied crisply.

Kevin doubted Carter had absorbed a word of what he'd said.

Turning back, Kevin instructed, "Tell her Mr. Black is unwell and to please leave."

"Alright."

"Wait," Kevin hesitated, "Did she say it was for business or personal reasons? If it's business, I should probably show my face."

"Miss Hart's assistant brought some albums and merch, apparently for signing."

"Oh, then never mind—do as I said."

"Let them in," came a laid-back voice from behind.

Kevin spun around in disbelief. "Let them in? That's a female artist. Have you lost your mind?"

"I'm bored," Carter tapped lightly on the chair, "Might as well check out the albums and merch."

Kevin was baffled.

The albums and merchandise wouldn't change.

But the people bringing them could.

Without the presence of the anticipated gloomy girl, Carter found himself even more disinterested, sparing not even a glance.

The icy demeanor of their top idol was evident, and Kevin couldn't bear to witness it. After the signing, to spare the popular actress any further discomfort in the chill of this man-made icebox, he escorted her out, citing the earlier excuse of feeling unwell. 

Not only did this not end well, but it seemed he even received a cold stare for his troubles. 

Walking back, Kevin pondered over the incident, finally realizing something amiss. "Those merch Vivian Hart brought, why did they look familiar?" Kevin asked as he closed the door, probing.

 Carter Blake didn't even look up. "Probably because you just saw them in the elevator a while ago." 

Kevin was shocked. "That box in the elevator?" 

"Yes." "So, the girl you said you had seen in the elevator, she's with Vivian Hart?" 

"Seems like it." 

Kevin was too startled by his conjecture to notice the strangeness of Carter's "seems." His expression twisted in shock. "How have you come across Vivian Hart's personal assistant? Don't tell me you and her—"

 "?"

 Carter Blake, finally catching on to something, slightly frowned and chuckled under his breath, tossing off his blanket and turning with a tuft of white hair showing. 

"What are you imagining?"

Chapter 4: An Uninvited Guest

Tonight's charity event was intimate, more akin to a private dinner than a grand gala. The host, a respected elder who transitioned from acting to founding his own company, was well-loved within the industry. The guest list included executives from top media firms and celebrities with both fame and influence. Vivian Hart, despite her current popularity, might not have made the cut as a VIP without her family background, and Sophie Reed, even less so, remained virtually unnoticed.

Sophie wasn't there to mingle. She was merely passing by. Her casual overalls purchased from a street vendor contrasted sharply with the event's opulence, her attire whispering of spring days as she moved silently and gracefully past the doormen, like a cat in no hurry.

The doorman, caught off guard by her presence, quickly attempted to redirect her: "Miss, the entrance to the event is—" He stopped mid-sentence upon a closer look. Sophie, stifling a yawn and barely acknowledging him, halted, turning slightly as her bag swung gently in an arc behind her. Her clear, indifferent gaze met the doorman's confused stare.

After a brief silence, Sophie's impatience pierced the stillness. Realizing the doorman was addressing her, she blinked slowly, her expression unreadable: "Yes?"

The doorman, slightly embarrassed, clarified, "Apologies, miss, but your attire may not meet our dress code."

Sophie paused, puzzled. Since when did hotels enforce dress codes for merely walking through?

Noting her blank stare, the doorman hastily added, "It's not about the quality of your clothes, but the style might raise concerns among the other guests."

"Oh, you're mistaken," Sophie finally understood, her eyes drifting away carelessly, "This isn't designer wear; it's from a street market. I'm not attending the event."

The man was taken aback, "Then you are here for…?"

Sophie's gesture made it clear, her casual demeanor as she mentioned, "Just carrying a bag."

Confusion followed her as she drifted into the nearby public lounge, leaving the doorman to face his snickering colleague: "Ever seen any artist or executive carry their stuff? Isn't that embarrassing?"

"Well, who knows? Maybe it's a quirk. But look at her," the doorman blushed, stealing a glance towards the closed door, "She didn't seem like any assistant."

"Maybe a mogul brought a new starlet to show her the ropes."

Sophie didn't catch the chatter behind the door; she headed straight for the couch upon entering.

Even if she had heard, she wouldn't have cared.

Tonight's attendees all seemed to have at least one driver or assistant with them. This lounge was set aside for such companions, offering self-service snacks and drinks—not nearly as fancy as the main dinner, but sufficient to stave off hunger.

After a demanding afternoon of stand-in work without a break for a meal, and hurried over here, Sophie was starving.

After setting down her belongings, she approached the snack table. She hesitated briefly at a can of soda, then, without expression, chose a bottled water instead. Canned soda would remain on her blacklist for a long while.

With her food and water in hand, Sophie nestled into an armchair.

Just then, Vivian Hart called. Sophie was half-gazing out at the setting sun, nibbling on her last biscuit.

"Check if my spare amethyst earrings are in your bag," Vivian spoke hurriedly, sounding anxious. "Bring them to the restroom inside the banquet hall, quick."

Sophie frowned slightly, about to respond.

"Fast, the dinner's about to start—three minutes!"

Click. The call ended.

Sophie Reed: "..."

The reflection in the phone's dark screen blanked out for a moment before the device was stowed away. The girl emerged from the engulfing embrace of the oversized armchair, grabbing her purse while casting a reluctant glance at the cookie in her grasp.

Guided by the ethos that "wasting is sinful," Sophie, despite her fatigue, resignedly nibbled on the cookie. She rummaged through Vivian's cluttered black purse as she made her swift exit from the lounge.

The double doors of the lounge stood invitingly open, without hindrance at the threshold, and Sophie, engrossed in searching for her earrings, darted out.

A swirl of air, stirred by her movement, carried a subtle scent of vetiver mingled with oakmoss past her.

Sophie halted, narrowly avoiding a collision, teetering on the brink of tumbling into the stranger's embrace.

With a slight frown and a lift of her lashes, she faced forward, meeting the gaze of the man beyond the mask, which concealed everything but the imposing sharpness of his jawline.

Their eyes locked, and Sophie found herself at a loss for words.

It felt like an unfortunate brush with a specter - specifically, a specter with ghostly white hair.

Recognition flashed between them. Carter Blake's gaze, cool and detached, flickered with a touch of surprise. He took a moment, then quirked an eyebrow, his voice muted by the mask, "Running into me again?"

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words.

As the cookie crumbled between Sophie's lips, falling in a cascade of fragments, she gasped in surprise, her hands moving instinctively to catch it.

But she was just a beat too late—

Carter's hand was already there, catching the shattered cookie, the crumbs scattering from the edges.

The gesture was automatic, leaving him with the fragment, uncertain of what to do next.

Carter glanced up, his expression a mix of mild irritation and curiosity, searching for the cookie's rightful owner.

Sophie lingered for a moment, methodically chewing the rest of the cookie in her mouth before swallowing. She then lifted her gaze to confront the person's stern and unwelcoming stare.

Carter Blake questioned, "Got nothing to say?"

Sophie remained silent briefly, her voice even and unvarying, "Nice reflexes, it's yours now."

Carter Blake expressed confusion with a simple, "?"

Just then, the event hall's door swung open. Kevin peeked out, asking, "What's keeping you out here—"

Sophie spun around, catching the door before it could shut.

Her subdued yet striking profile silenced Kevin mid-sentence.

Bewildered, Kevin inquired, "Sophie?"

Sophie, gripping Vivian Hart's purse, nodded to Kevin as she moved past him.

She left a remark for Carter before darting inside, "No need for thanks, it's rightfully yours."

Regaining his senses, Kevin, puzzled, turned back to Carter. "That was her, right? The one who accidentally drenched you with soda on set?"

"Yes," Carter replied nonchalantly.

"How did she get here, and why did she just run in?" Kevin's bewilderment grew, spinning around only to find Carter inspecting his palm with an unfazed demeanor.

"What's with the cookie in your hand?" Kevin leaned in curiously, spotting the odd item.

"It's a piece of a cookie," Carter clarified.

"I can see it's a cookie, but why do you have it?" Kevin pressed.

Carter glanced up, a hint of amusement in his voice muffled by the mask, and handed the cookie fragment to Kevin.

"It's my dinner," Carter quipped, dusting off his hands and stepping through the doorway. "Consider it my treat to you."

Kevin stood there, flabbergasted, his mind racing with questions.

In a secluded nook of the banquet hall, Carter Blake leaned nonchalantly against the wall, his hand pocketed and his demeanor distant yet observant. He idly swirled a glass of champagne, the light catching its effervescence with a subtle sparkle.

His cool and composed presence drew many fleeting looks, though Kevin, ever the loyal guard, positioned himself as a barrier to the more persistent admirers.

As the evening wore on, Kevin, feeling quite parched from mingling, sidled up to Carter. "You do realize you're not here as part of the decor, right? Standing silent isn't really mingling," he chided, handing Carter a fresh drink while eyeing the crowd. "Half these people showed up just because of you, Carter Blake, you know."

Carter barely acknowledged the comment, his interest remaining unfazed.

Kevin, after a stifled cough, pressed on. "They're here to network with you. It's rare you grace these events, and rumors of your attendance sparked quite the turnout."

Unperturbed, Carter took a leisurely sip of his champagne, then queried, "Who?"

Kevin, amused yet exasperated, motioned towards Vivian Hart nearby. "Remember the autograph seeker, Vivian Hart? Surprised you've forgotten already. She's been hovering all evening."

Carter's gaze drifted as directed, pausing on a figure in a chic dress. Something in his expression shifted subtly as his eyes traced her silhouette.

Kevin, picking up on the change, prodded, "Something up?"

"She looks familiar," Carter mused.

Puzzled, Kevin followed Carter's line of sight to where Vivian mingled, catching her eye. She responded with a tentative, glowing smile, her gesture suggesting a forthcoming approach.

"Oh, great, just when we were enjoying a moment's peace. Lay off the charm, will you?" Kevin groaned, rubbing his temple.

Carter set his glass aside, a smirk crossing his lips, "Flirting, from just a glance?"

"Exactly," Kevin asserted.

As Vivian made her move, Carter excused himself, "Your turn to play host. I'm out."

"Where to now?" Kevin hurried after him.

"Restroom break."

The restroom's running taps stirred Sophie from her lethargy outside. She leaned against the cool tiles, her eyes heavy, yawning unreservedly into the echo of water and the hush of the evening.

Compared to the plush seating in the public lounge, the waiting area outside the banquet hall's restroom was a far cry from comfort. The chairs, backless and unforgiving, seemed designed to discourage any prolonged stay.

Just a hallway away, the banquet buzzed with the sound of industry elites mingling—laughter, conversations, and the clinking of glasses all melding into the vibrant atmosphere of the event. A-list celebrities, media moguls, acclaimed directors, and other high-profile figures were gathered, making it a hotspot of networking opportunities. Miranda, upon learning about Sophie's awkward situation of being stranded in the hall, was nearly ready to leap through her phone in a rescue attempt.

Sophie eyed Vivian Hart's purse and rose to her feet. With the event showing no signs of winding down, she figured a splash of cold water might help shake off the lethargy.

The hall's restroom was gender-neutral, with toilets flanking a central makeup area. As Sophie drenched her face in cool water, she couldn't help but overhear a snippet of conversation from the adjacent room.

"Got everything for the charity auction tonight?"

"Yep, brought a jewelry collection. You?"

"Landscape art, courtesy of the company. Didn't delve into details. What's the cap for bids tonight?"

"One mil per item. It's all for a good cause, so let's not go nuts."

"Right. Eyeing anything?"

"Who actually shops at these things? I'm here for Carter Blake. Heard he might have donated something. That alone could shatter the million mark just for bragging rights."

"You? Trying to impress?"

Their laughter barely registered to Sophie as she methodically patted her face dry, her mind distant from the intricacies of the industry's unwritten social rules. After drying off, she nonchalantly discarded the paper towel and grabbed her bag, intent on exiting without drawing unnecessary attention from her accidental eavesdropping.

Yet, as she turned to leave, she found herself face-to-face with a hurried newcomer.

Their eyes locked, an awkward pause hanging between them before the newcomer's face twisted into a smirk. "Sophie Reed, of all places."

His tone carried a mix of surprise and disdain—a greeting Sophie received far more often than she'd prefer within these gilded walls.

"..."

The two figures, emerging with smiles, caught the remark and glanced over. One of the actresses, pausing by the door, seemed surprised: "Director Shaw, you're here tonight too?"

Sebastian Shaw shifted his gaze, "I'm here to discuss a collaboration for a project."

"Director Shaw must have heard the rumor about taking on a new drama series this year, mainly for Carter Blake, right?" The competitor, barely concealing his smirk, tried to probe.

"Let's not play games, Mr. Harper. May the best man win."

Sebastian Shaw maintained his composure, though clearly disinterested in further pleasantries. The fierceness in his eyes, barely concealed behind his glasses, fixed unapologetically on Sophie standing before him.

Realizing Shaw's focus, the two quickly excused themselves, "It seems Director Shaw is preoccupied; we'll chat another time." Casting either sympathetic or curious glances at Sophie, they maneuvered past to leave. In this industry, cold and transient relationships are the norms, with little collective compassion for strangers.

Sophie's expression eased back into weariness as if ready to bypass Shaw if not for his deliberate obstruction.

Once the duo's steps faded, Shaw advanced, his malice no longer masked.

"You've done quite well for yourself in these three years, Sophie Reed. Signed with Celestial Media, thinking you're safe under their shelter from me?"

Sophie retreated as Shaw pressed forward until she found herself backed into the makeup room the duo had exited. Glancing inside, where dim light hinted at solitude, she preferred it to the potential spectacle outside.

"Shall we talk inside?" she suggested indifferently.

Caught off guard, Shaw didn't immediately respond.

Without waiting, Sophie turned and entered, with Shaw hastily following.

Inside, the makeup room was partially lit, with a cozy setup featuring a plush brown sofa and a sparse coffee table adorned with newspapers and magazines.

Indeed, the real resting spot was here. Sophie eyed the inviting sofa, imagining its comfort possibly surpassing her own bed, a sentiment of regretful longing.

Before Sophie Reed could give it much thought, a detestable hand landed on her shoulder from behind.

"You've gotten wise after a few knocks, huh? Now you realize what you missed out on back then?"

"..."

Accompanied by the words, the nauseating breath of the other person almost touched her. In the long mirror on the side wall, Sophie's usually indifferent face showed a rare disgust.

With a swift, barely noticeable move, Sophie, trapped under Sebastian Shaw's grip, elegantly turned and stepped back, creating some distance between them.

"Sorry, I was lost in thought," she said, her face void of any apology. "And you are...?"

"I—"

Sebastian Shaw choked on his words, almost gasping for air: "You don't know me? What are you playing at!"

"Hmm, I tend to forget things."

"Sophie Reed! You, Sophie Reed," Sebastian Shaw's face turned red with anger, "you've grown even bolder. Do you still want to make it in this industry?"

"..."

Turning her head away, Sophie yawned languidly. "Not really," she said flatly. "Director Shaw, could you please have someone open the door for me? I'm begging you."

"You—"

Sebastian Shaw, possibly driven mad by her emotionless taunts and fueled by alcohol, turned to lock the makeup room door. The lock was tricky; it took him a few seconds to get it, only to meet Sophie's pitying gaze as if looking at an idiot.

"Damn it, I'll show you what I'm capable of," Sebastian Shaw sneered, turning to unbuckle his belt.

Sophie raised her eyebrows slightly in surprise.

Despite being part of the same species, every day seemed an opportunity to lower her expectations of humanity's dregs.

Such are the surprises of life.

Sophie thought to herself, allowing a faint smile to cross her face. Her light coffee-colored eyes shimmered with a cool, detached light.

She gently tugged at the straps of her denim shorts with her thumbs, unfastening them with a pull. Holding the light-colored denim straps in her palm, she glanced around the ceiling.

No cameras.

Sophie had just finished scanning her surroundings when she turned back only to meet Sebastian Shaw's leering gaze, oozing with malintent as if ready to leap at her.

Impatient by nature, Sophie didn't wait around.

She struck first—

Her pale, lithe legs swung up, delivering a kick straight to Sebastian Shaw's chest. The impact sent him crashing against the door with a loud thud, his curses stifled before they could escape his lips.

He whitened, struggling to rise, "Sophie..."

But Sophie wasn't done. She dove forward, her agility and the explosive strength of her slender core fully deployed to pin him back. Her other leg braced against the floor, taut as an archer's bow.

Her gaze sharpened, lethal as an arrow's point.

Intimidating enough to kill.

Sebastian froze, his complexion draining further.

This wasn't the Sophie he remembered, who had never instilled fear in him. In his view, she was merely a defiant newbie actress who dared to defy his unspoken rules. When he had her removed from a project and blackballed in the industry, she had remained silent, intimidated. But the years had apparently not taught her to conform.

Instead, she confronted him head-on.

As Sebastian's anger seethed, Sophie offered a calm smile, "Surprised I fought back?"

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Sebastian spat out, "Sophie, if you value your life, you'd better—"

"Why I endured you?" Sophie cut in smoothly, her voice as detached as a disinterested narrator, "Back then, I was drowning in over a million in debt. Couldn't afford to upset you or leave the scene."

Sebastian was momentarily taken aback.

"Debt repayment" was a concept far removed from his reality. He vividly remembered Sophie as a young woman with ambitious eyes, not burdened by debts.

"Now, I'm free of it."

Sophie didn't wait for him to digest the information. Wielding the denim straps casually, she lightly tapped it against Sebastian's face. "A piece of advice, uncle, don't push me. Desperation can drive a person beyond their limits, and you're well aware."

Sebastian's rage nearly boiled over, yet he restrained himself, possibly grasping her implication.

The denim straps now soiled, Sophie nonchalantly tossed it aside. She gracefully stepped back, her stance unwavering.

As Sebastian massaged his chest, his complexion livid, he declared, "Alright, Sophie Reed, you've shown your true colors. But remember, you're finished in this industry as long as I have a say!"

Sophie seemed deaf to his threats, casually tending to her ankle, "Kindly make your exit."

He may have contemplated revenge, but recalling the unyielding stance of Sophie's slender legs—reminding him of her potential combat skill—he ultimately stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Just before exiting, he bitterly turned, "Don't think I'm oblivious. You think you can ascend within Tianle by bedding others? Pretending to be above it all!"

Sophie paused, her action freezing momentarily.

With a reminder to herself that murder was illegal, she coolly met his gaze, "Correct, I'm no saint. If the desire strikes, I act on it—except, not with you."

Stunned by her audacity, Sebastian retorted, "What?!"

Sophie reiterated, unfazed, "You, however, are not an option."

"...Sophie Reed!!"

His furious outburst was overshadowed by a minor disturbance behind him.

Unmoved, Sophie leisurely secured the door behind her after his departure.

After a brief pause, she turned, backing against the door warily eyeing the long couch.

"Whoever's hiding there," her tone icy, "show yourself."

"Why bother?"

A laugh echoed from behind the couch, the voice emerging with a languid chuckle.

Revealing himself, he rose leisurely, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Considering silence?"