Sophia Sullivan tapped her fingernail against the wineglass.
Her cold, sharp features reflected in the crystal.
"I thought they'd been wiped out. Turns out they're still eyeing The Nexus."
Even after Ethan Sullivan and Julian Roscente's thorough cleanup last time, she knew better.
The real mastermind remained hidden in the shadows.
Better to strike first than wait for an attack.
Ryan Lawrence immediately grasped her meaning.
"Should I send someone to handle it?"
"Kill them on sight."
"Understood."
Ryan wasn't surprised by Sophia's ruthlessness.
If anything, he chuckled lowly.
"The Decagon made five billion in revenue last year. M-Country's offering premium rates lately, but last month's profits dipped..."
His rapid-fire delivery betrayed a razor-sharp mind.
The rasp in his voice held a youthful edge.
Gone was his usual playful demeanor—now he was all business.
Sophia gave a noncommittal hum. Most funds were already in motion.
Her wineglass emptied gradually.
Their discussion neared its end.
At some point, Ryan's words began slurring.
Unhealthy pink bloomed across his cheeks.
"Sophia... I like..."
Drunk Ryan was docile.
He sat quietly, yet tilted his face up to mumble affection.
His smiling eyes curved like crescent moons.
Sophia understood.
The kid was wasted.
She sighed and hauled him toward the bed.
Tall and lean, his body radiated heat as he leaned into her.
Ryan only nuzzled his feverish face against her neck, whining softly.
"Can't hold your liquor yet you keep drinking."
She dumped him onto the mattress.
She'd assumed he could handle his alcohol. Three glasses proved her wrong.
At least drunk Ryan was quieter.
She glanced down.
His shirt hung slightly open, revealing toned muscles.
Alcohol painted his skin a faint pink.
His lashes fluttered as he gazed up dazedly.
"...Don't leave me."
"I'm right here."
Sophia almost laughed.
Flecks of light danced in his red-rimmed eyes.
She ruffled his soft hair.
"You're drunk."
It was fluffy, pleasant to touch.
A few casual strokes left it sticking up like a bird's nest.
Paired with his flushed face, he resembled a pitiful puppy.
She dialed the manager.
"Ryan's in the penthouse. Send someone with hangover remedy."
"Yes, ma'am."
Sophia tucked the blanket around him.
Only when his breathing evened out did she relax.
Moonlight rippled across the ocean outside.
Stars scattered like shattered glass.
The night should've been clear.
No hint of rain.
Yet when she exited the banquet hall, storm clouds had gathered unseen.
The air hung thick and heavy.
"Ethan and his jinx."
She checked her watch—2 a.m.
Just as she raised her hand for a cab, a figure lurched from the shadows.
"Sophia Sullivan... stop!"
Liam Winston reeked of alcohol.
His voice was hoarse, his expression blank.
"These past three years... you've been with them all along, haven't you?"
Sophia lifted her gaze lazily.
She didn't bother responding, merely flexed her wrists.
She'd been itching for a fight lately.
A punching bag delivered to her doorstep—why refuse?
Especially when it was her utterly defenseless ex-husband.