Chapter 112

"Sir? Would you like me to bring you anything from the café?" My assistant's voice pulls me from my thoughts, but my gaze remains fixed on the cityscape beyond my office window.

The view had always been breathtaking—one of the main reasons I'd chosen this space. But today, it offered no solace.

"No. Not today," I reply without turning.

"Understood. I'll return in half an hour."

I don’t acknowledge her, and seconds later, the door clicks shut. A frustrated sigh escapes me. An unshakable sense of dread has clung to me all morning, heavier than ever.

My pulse won’t settle. My mind won’t focus. It’s as if my instincts are screaming at me, but I can’t decipher the warning.

To distract myself, I think of Sophia—our conversation, her hesitation. I understand it. God, do I ever. For over a decade, I drilled into her that Isabella was the only woman I’d ever love.

I made sure she knew how little she meant to me. Nine years of punishment for something beyond her control. I convinced her—and myself—that I despised her with every fiber of my being.

So how could I possibly expect her to believe me now?

It’s infuriating, but fair. If our roles were reversed, I wouldn’t trust me either.

And the damage I’ve done? Nine years of cruelty doesn’t vanish overnight. It might take years to undo the wounds I’ve inflicted. Some scars may never fade.

I want her. Desperately. But if she walks away, I’ll accept it. That’s the penance I deserve.

I try to focus on her face, on strategies to win her back—but this gnawing dread won’t relent. It’s suffocating. I pace like a caged animal, my hands raking through my hair.

I turn on the TV, needing noise to drown out the chaos in my head.

I don’t know how long I’ve been pacing when the door bursts open. Sebastian stands there, his usual composure shattered. His breaths are ragged, his eyes bloodshot.

I freeze.

Sebastian never looks like this. If he’s unraveled, something is catastrophically wrong.

"What happened?" My voice is sharp, my pulse spiking. Our parents? Liam?

"Ethan—" His voice cracks.

"Damn it, Sebastian! Tell me!"

He swallows hard, his gaze locking onto mine.

"It’s Sophia."

Before I can demand details, a news anchor’s voice cuts through the room, her name flashing on the screen.

BREAKING NEWS.

The bold headline sears into my vision.

"Prominent Sterling family member and founder of The Hope Foundation was ambushed in a targeted shooting earlier today. The gunman remains at large. Viewer discretion advised."

My knees buckle.

The footage shows Sophia leaving an ice cream parlor, lost in thought. A black SUV screeches into frame. A masked figure leans out—gun raised—and fires.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

She collapses. Blood pools around her.

The reporter’s voice drones on, but I don’t hear it. All I see is Sophia’s lifeless body.

"Ethan!" Sebastian grips my shoulder. "Don’t watch—"

I shove past him.

"I need to get to her. Now."

I sprint down the hallway, ignoring the stunned stares of my staff. The elevator doors close too slowly. My hands shake so violently I drop my keys twice.

"Goddamn it!" I kick the tire of my car, raw terror clawing at my chest.

Sebastian snatches the keys from my grip. "You’re in no state to drive."

I don’t argue. He’s right.

As we speed toward the hospital, one prayer loops in my mind:

Don’t take her from me. Not now. Not like this.