The first light of dawn crept across the sky.
Sophia Sullivan placed the last piece of luggage into the trunk and started the engine.
The car glided smoothly toward Potter's Town.
The plush seat cradled her body but did little to ease the lingering soreness in her waist and abdomen.
Images from yesterday's intimacy surfaced unbidden in her mind.
Those intense, uncontrolled moments refused to fade.
She had long lost count of how many times.
Only this exhaustion remained, a stark reminder of what had transpired.
Her fingers instinctively tugged at the high collar of her blouse.
Beneath the fabric lay faint, telltale marks in shades of rose.
All left by him.
"Like a damn hound," she muttered under her breath, suppressing the strange flutter in her chest.
The car soon halted outside a familiar courtyard.
"Sophia! You're finally here!"
Benjamin York practically burst through the door at the sound of the engine.
Joy radiated from the elderly man's face.
"Ever since your last batch of works debuted, my humble courtyard has been overrun! People keep asking about you!"
His gaze dropped to the gift bag in her hands, and his brows knitted.
"Bringing gifts to your own home? Since when did we stand on ceremony?"
Sophia's lips curved as she shook the bag playfully.
"Aged wine and premium tea leaves. If you don't want them, I'll take them back."
Her tone carried the affectionate teasing of a younger family member.
"Now you tell me!"
Benjamin snatched the bag and clutched it protectively.
"Is this... a disciple honoring her master? Wait, no—you're the master here. This hierarchy is all wrong!"
Watching his comical dilemma, Sophia laughed.
She stepped into the courtyard.
The familiar scent of clay greeted her, mingled with the delicate fragrance of autumn chrysanthemums.
The greenery bore traces of fall, save for clusters of chrysanthemums defiantly in bloom.
Seasons changed, yet this place remained an oasis of tranquility.
She loved it here.
"Ethan Sullivan? What brings you here today?"
Benjamin's booming voice rang out again, laced with amusement.
"Here to mooch another meal, aren't you? You're helping in the kitchen today!"
The old man held no ill will toward the younger man.
Though Ethan's pottery skills were laughably poor—he could stare at clay for days without producing anything decent—his steady temperament was commendable. Rumor had it he also had a bright little niece.
Ethan responded with a quiet hum.
The decisive head of the Sullivan family, known for his ruthlessness in business, now endured the elder's chiding without protest.
It oddly reminded him of his own grandfather.
"I'll cook today," he said evenly.
"Seems I was born to work in kitchens."
Sophia's fingers twitched.
Memories of yesterday's kitchen escapades resurfaced.
The man did possess remarkable... aptitude in certain areas.
Especially on that long table.
The sheer diligence was almost impressive.
Her eyes briefly met Ethan's before she quickly looked away.
Both maintained perfect composure, as though they were merely casual acquaintances.
Sophia turned and scooped up Emma Sullivan from nearby.
"Want to play with clay today, Emma? I brought some new materials."
"...Okay."
The little girl's voice was barely a whisper, but she nodded obediently.
Her large eyes curiously scanned their surroundings.
Her speech remained halting, often stumbling over words.
Sophia never rushed her, letting her find her own rhythm.
Emma had improved significantly.
Occasionally, even a small smile would appear.
Now, the girl focused intently on kneading the clay.
Her movements were unpracticed, the resulting shape unsatisfactory.
Her tiny brow furrowed as she kept adjusting it.
"Perfection isn't the goal," Sophia said softly, settling onto a stool beside her.
"Complete immersion can create precision, but it lacks soul."
"Now that you're engaging with the world, take your time. Feel the clay's warmth in your hands."
"Mm." Emma blinked, struggling to articulate. "Th...thank you, sis."
"You're welcome."
Under Sophia's guidance, the child gradually relaxed.
A unique vase began taking shape between her small hands.
Emma looked up, eyes shining with delight.
A rare, genuine smile curved her lips.
Sophia smiled back, gently ruffling her hair.
"You're amazing, Emma."
The tender moment shattered with an unwelcome interruption.
"No wonder my niece has improved so quickly—she's had expert guidance."
Zachary Sullivan strode in, wearing an innocent smile that didn't reach his sharp eyes.
His gaze swept over Sophia with calculated scrutiny.
"Ms. Sullivan truly lives up to her reputation. No wonder my brother is so smitten he'd even part with... a family heirloom necklace."