Sophia Sullivan leaned against the headboard in the master bedroom, wide awake.
"Once Mrs. Sullivan's Alzheimer's is treated, I can follow the leads to find my mother," she said absently, filling the long night with idle conversation.
Her voice remained steady when mentioning her mother.
Ethan Sullivan's Adam's apple bobbed. "Will you leave then, Sophia?"
"Most likely."
Nothing mattered more to Sophia than her mother.
Ethan fell silent for a moment before speaking with quiet self-mockery.
"Then I wish you success."
His gaze dropped to the floor.
Their shadows overlapped on the carpet.
Like an embrace.
Yet even the most intimate shadow was nothing but an illusion.
Sophia had never been someone he could easily keep.
"If you need help, all of the Sullivan family's resources are at your disposal," Ethan said, his voice low. "After all, you saved me."
Had she not spotted the bomb in time and thrown it away, he would have been torn to pieces.
He owed her his life.
Sophia chuckled. "If anything, you saved me. Otherwise, I'd be the one lying here in pain."
The memory of his bloodied back sent ripples through her calm composure.
"You didn't have to do that."
Throwing the bomb had been pure instinct.
Self-preservation.
Ethan had no reason to shield her from the shrapnel.
Even now, she could still see the crimson spreading through the lake water.
"I acted to save myself, but you didn’t need to take that hit. Life is precious—people like us should know that best."
The night was too deep.
The candlelight too warm.
It lulled her into lowering her guard.
Sophia didn’t even realize she had crossed a line.
Some things were better left unsaid.
Yet she had asked anyway.
It didn’t matter, she thought.
Ethan would surely brush it off as he always did—claiming it was all for mutual benefit.
After all, she had cured Emma, knew perfumery, and was treating Mrs. Sullivan.
But this time, he didn’t evade.
"Because I care about you."
His voice was rough with sincerity.
Too calm. Too certain.
The thread of composure in Sophia’s mind snapped.
She paused before forcing a lighthearted reply. "Of course, I’m quite useful—"
"Not utility." Ethan met her gaze directly. "I just don’t want you hurt."
"Not even a scratch."
Sophia stilled, sensing the shift between them.
He had never been more serious.
His dark eyes pulled her in like a vortex.
The air grew heavy.
Then she heard him say, "You’re worth it."
Four simple words.
Hotter than any love confession.
Only she was worth dying for.
Only she could be his exception.
He meant it.
Sophia clenched her fists. "Ethan, do you realize what you’re saying?"
"I do." He didn’t move closer. "You don’t have to feel burdened. I don’t need an answer."
They still had their bet.
Like peeling an onion, layer by layer, until all secrets were laid bare.
Sophia studied him with a frown.
Pretending indifference was impossible.
But she had long stopped yearning for distant dreams.
Love. Marriage. Eternal vows.
They were nothing but mirages.
Ethan spoke slowly. "Our wager seems to be progressing. I’ve uncovered your first secret."
The game was dangerous and intoxicating.
"For instance, you’re an experienced street racer."
Sophia clicked her tongue.
"And you’re no different—the renowned champion racer, Zephyr."
She eyed him pointedly.
"Frankly, you’re the bigger surprise."
Who would have guessed the untouchable Sullivan heir raced undercover?
For years, the world believed him confined to a wheelchair.
A madman on wheels.
Sophia propped her chin on her hand. "If we’re keeping score, I recognized you first."
Even the dim moonlight couldn’t hide the red mole on his throat.
"So?"
"So, as the first to unmask Zephyr, don’t I deserve a reward?" she teased.
Ethan didn’t hesitate. "Name it."
"If it’s mine to give, it’s yours."
His dark gaze was a precipice, daring her to fall.
Sophia blinked, then let her eyes drift to his jet-black hair.
"...I want to see you with your hair tied up."