Isabella Robinson pulled Sophia Sullivan swiftly into the lounge area.
Her chest heaved violently, eyes burning with barely contained fury.
"That bastard Sunny Anderson deserves to be chopped up and fed to sharks!"
Though Sophia had been the one harassed, Isabella's face had gone pale with rage.
Sophia handed her a champagne flute.
"Calm down."
Her tone remained even, as if nothing had happened.
"Don't worry. No one in this world can hurt me."
Isabella downed the drink in one gulp.
"That trash could never lay a finger on you."
She gazed at Sophia with concern.
"Back when you were on missions in S-Country, you dealt with actual criminals."
Sophia chuckled lightly.
"Exactly. So stop worrying."
She checked her watch.
"The gala starts in thirty minutes. Don't keep your handsome date waiting."
Isabella finally relaxed.
"I've already got people monitoring Breeze Perfumes."
She leaned closer, whispering.
"Those eight male models are still reserved. Pick any after the event~"
Sophia couldn't suppress a laugh.
"Deal."
She stood, smoothing her gown before heading toward the venue.
Just outside the lounge, two familiar figures appeared.
"Ms. Sullivan, I'm Chloe Evans."
The white-clad woman spoke softly, her curls dancing in the ocean breeze.
She clung tightly to Liam Winston's arm.
"I came to apologize. If I hadn't fought with Liam and left the country years ago, you wouldn't be in this situation."
Sophia lazily propped her chin on one hand.
"And?"
Liam shielded Chloe behind him.
"Stop playing hard to get. I don't know how you convinced Isabella to track me here, but this ends now."
Sophia suddenly laughed aloud.
"Hard to get?"
Her eyes turned icy.
"The divorce papers are signed. Even at my worst, I don't revisit old flames."
The implication was clear.
Chloe had vanished overseas on their wedding day to chase wealth. Now that the Winston Group thrived, she'd conveniently returned.
Chloe paled, eyes instantly welling with tears.
"Liam, I was forced back then..."
But Liam stared transfixed at Sophia.
She smiled, yet frost glinted in her gaze.
This unfamiliar, dazzling version of Sophia unsettled him—a rose with thorns that pricked his composure.
"We'll finalize the divorce tomorrow morning."
He searched her eyes for any trace of sorrow.
Only indifference stared back.
The devotion she'd once shown had vanished completely.
"Fine. Don't be late, Mr. Winston."
Sophia nodded.
She'd endured the pain before. Too many disappointments had taught her detachment.
Time to wake from the dream.
Liam's chest constricted.
"Grandfather gets discharged the day after. He insists on seeing you."
Sophia sipped her drink.
"Anything else?"
The dismissal was clear.
Liam faltered.
Chloe interjected gently: "We understand Ms. Sullivan's reluctance, going through such lengths to follow us."
"But love can't be forced. Liam and I share true feelings. Please bless our union."
She extended an invitation.
"You're welcome at our wedding."
Sophia instantly grasped the ploy—Chloe wanted to cleanse her homewrecker image.
But Sophia no longer played nice.
"Men are everywhere."
Sophia rose, lips curling derisively.
"I'll skip the wedding. Wouldn't want people mistaking the ex-wife for the other woman—how embarrassing for the Winston Group."
She tilted her glass, letting the liquid spill onto the floor.
"May you two stay miserable together."
Liam's face darkened.
"You'll regret this!"
He stormed off, dragging Chloe behind him.
Sophia turned toward the VIP changing room.
The door clicked shut.
A scorching hand pressed against her waist.
The cold muzzle of a gun pressed through fabric.
"Don't move."
A man's ragged breath filled the darkness.
Sophia tensed but remained eerily calm.
Even blind, she sensed the feral danger radiating from him.
Her voice came out soft.
"Your hand is shaking."