Chapter 135

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the bedroom. Sophia stretched lazily, her body still humming with the remnants of last night’s passion.

Ethan’s side of the bed was empty, but the lingering warmth told her he hadn’t been gone long.

She reached for her phone, only to find a text from Isabella: "Call me ASAP. It’s important."

Sophia frowned. Her sister rarely sounded this urgent.

She dialed, and Isabella picked up on the first ring.

"You need to see this," Isabella said, her voice tight.

A link popped up on Sophia’s screen.

She clicked it—and froze.

A gossip site had published grainy photos of her and Ethan leaving a hotel late last night. The headline screamed: "Reconciliation? Sophia Blackwood Spotted with Ex-Husband Ethan in Midnight Rendezvous!"

Sophia’s stomach twisted.

This wasn’t just gossip. This was a calculated leak.

Downstairs, the front door opened.

Ethan’s voice carried up the stairs, sharp with tension. "Sophia?"

She took a shaky breath.

The game had just changed.

Weakness isn't an option right now. The price would be too steep—more than I'm willing to pay. I've already danced on the edge of my limits. I refuse to tumble back into that abyss that nearly swallowed me whole.

I collapse onto my bed, forcing my eyes to stay dry. No more tears. I've wasted enough on people who don't deserve a single drop.

Exhaustion drags me under—a heavy, suffocating weight of emotional and physical fatigue. I sink into a sleep so deep, not even dreams dare to follow.

When I wake, sunlight streams through the curtains. Eleven o'clock.

Shit.

I bolt upright, my legs tangling in the sheets as I crash to the floor. I was supposed to pick Liam up at nine. Ethan had a business flight—some meeting he couldn't miss.

I scramble through a shower, dressing in record time. Ten minutes flat. I race downstairs, half-convinced I'll trip and snap my neck before I make it to the kitchen.

Then I freeze.

Ethan and Liam are already there.

Ethan stands at the stove, flipping pancakes in a tailored suit. The sight is so jarring, I blink twice. Since when does he cook?

"Mommy! You're awake!" Liam beams, syrup smeared across his cheeks. "I wanted to wake you, but Dad said no."

I stare between them. "What's happening?"

"Breakfast." Ethan doesn't glance up. "Sit. Eat. I'm finishing these before I leave."

"Aren't you late?" My voice is sharp. "You should've woken me."

He shrugs. "Screw the meeting. You needed sleep." Like it's that simple.

This version of him—domestic, almost kind—is unsettling. A side I've never seen. One I don't want to see. Because if I let myself believe in this facade, I might forget the pain he's caused.

Mechanically, I load my plate with eggs and toast, watching him like he's a puzzle I can't solve.

Then, out of nowhere: "When's your next doctor's appointment?"

My head snaps up. His gaze is unreadable. "Next Friday. Why?"

"Just curious."

He shuts off the stove, the last pancake done. "I have to go." A glance at his watch.

He rounds the island, pressing a kiss to Liam's cheek. Then he turns to me.

I hold my breath.

For a heartbeat, his eyes flicker—something uncertain, almost hesitant. My pulse stutters.

Don't touch me.

His presence alone is suffocating.

"See you both when I get back," he says finally, stepping away.

Relief floods me.

"Okay, Dad! Bring me a present!" Liam chirps. I nod stiffly instead of speaking.

Ethan hesitates again, his expression shifting. For a second, I think he'll say something more. But then his mask slips back into place—cold, detached. The Ethan I know.

Without another word, he leaves.

I stare at the empty doorway, my mind racing.

Why?

Why act like he cares?

A bitter laugh escapes me. He doesn't. This is all for Liam. Another performance. Another lie.

That's all it ever is.

...Right?