Olivia Laurent forced down the boiling rage inside her, her lips stretching into a stiff smile.
"It was just a joke."
She sighed softly, deliberately adopting the tone one would use to placate a petulant child as she turned her gaze toward Sophia Sullivan.
"Miss Sullivan, you're magnanimous. Please don't take my words to heart. If Ethan gets angry because of this, I might have to beg Mrs. Sullivan to intervene."
She deliberately mentioned Mrs. Sullivan—a reminder to Ethan of the debt his family owed hers.
Just as she prepared to press further, a man's icy warning cut through the air.
"Grandmother needs rest." Ethan's voice was calm, but the undercurrent of frost sent chills down her spine. "Anyone who disturbs her won't live to regret it."
His sharp profile was half-shrouded in shadow, the oppressive aura around him suffocating.
Olivia suddenly recalled the rumors.
The Sullivan family's internal strife had been brutal, with illegitimate heirs tearing each other apart. Ethan had climbed to power over their corpses, his iron-fisted rule infamous.
A cold dread slithered up her spine. She knew better than to test his limits now.
"My apologies for speaking out of turn." Olivia turned to Sophia, forcing another stiff smile. "Miss Sullivan, please don't misunderstand. I genuinely want to be your friend."
Sophia traced the rim of her coffee cup, a faint smile playing on her lips. "No need for apologies. If anything, I should thank you—your performance today was quite entertaining."
Olivia's nails dug into her palms.
How dare this woman mock her so openly!
She had intended to humiliate Sophia through Ethan, but instead, she'd become the laughingstock. Trapped between Sophia's derision and Ethan's wrath, Olivia stood frozen, unable to retreat or advance.
The silence grew thick and heavy.
Then, a clear, youthful voice shattered the tension.
"Sophia!"
She looked up.
By the floor-to-ceiling window stood a tall figure. His black shirt bore the embroidered "Beloved" insignia—a limited-edition design from a Milanese couturier.
The Patek Philippe on his wrist gleamed coldly, a crimson serpent tattoo peeking out beneath the strap.
Audacious yet refined, he carried an air of effortless arrogance.
The setting sun gilded his silver earring as he strode forward, the air around him turning sharp.
"Long time no see." Ryan Lawrence's voice held the rasp of adolescence.
His gaze briefly crossed Ethan's before flickering away, as though dismissing him as irrelevant.
"Traffic was hell. Sorry to keep you waiting."
Noticing the coffee and brownie on the table, his lips curled into a pleased smile.
"You remembered my favorite."
"Just a coincidence." Sophia tilted her chin. "Did you bring it?"
"It's in the car. I'll get it for you later."
Ryan turned to Olivia, who still blocked the aisle. His grin was bright, yet it sent an inexplicable shiver down her spine.
"You're in my way."
Olivia instinctively stepped back. As he passed, she caught a faint, unsettling whiff of something metallic—like blood.
"...My mistake."
He pulled out a chair with effortless grace, sitting beside Sophia while pointedly ignoring Ethan's darkening glare.
"You've got something in your hair."
Before Sophia could react, he leaned in. His cool fingers brushed through her strands, his long lashes casting shadows over his cheeks.
"A petal." He placed the crushed flower on the table.
When their eyes met, Sophia realized with sudden clarity—the boy who once whined over the phone had morphed into something far more dangerous.
His unbuttoned shirt revealed sharp collarbones, the tailored suit hugging a frame caught between youth and maturity.
Every line of him exuded a mesmerizing, predatory allure.
"Sophia." Ryan's throat moved as his gaze burned with undisguised hunger. "I missed you."