Chapter 140

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the bedroom floor. Sophia stirred, blinking against the soft light.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

She reached for it, her heart skipping when she saw the name—Liam.

"Mom, can we talk?"

The message was simple, but the weight behind it made her fingers tremble.

She typed back quickly. "Of course. When?"

"Now. I’m downstairs."

Sophia bolted upright.

She hadn’t expected him to come to her house. Not after everything.

Throwing on a robe, she hurried down the stairs, her pulse racing.

Liam stood in the foyer, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His expression was unreadable.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hey," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

Then, Liam exhaled sharply. "I need to know the truth."

Sophia’s breath caught.

"About what?"

His gaze locked onto hers, intense and searching. "About you and Dad. About why everything fell apart."

Her stomach twisted.

This wasn’t just a casual visit.

This was a reckoning.

She swallowed hard. "It’s complicated, Liam."

He shook his head. "No more excuses. I deserve to know."

The air between them crackled with tension.

Sophia hesitated, then nodded.

"Okay," she whispered. "But you might not like what you hear."

Liam’s jaw tightened. "Try me."

She took a deep breath.

And then, she began to tell him everything.

Down the street, a black sedan idled.

Inside, Julian Cross—known only as Hawk—watched the house through tinted windows.

His phone buzzed.

A single message lit up the screen.

"Proceed."

A slow smirk curled his lips.

The game was far from over.

And Sophia Blackwood was about to learn just how dangerous it could get.

The silence between us was deafening. Lunch passed in unbearable quiet, the clinking of cutlery the only sound. His apology still echoed in my mind, leaving me unsettled. Forgiveness? Not a chance. Not yet.

Ethan drove me home afterward, the tension thick enough to choke on. Both of us trapped in our own thoughts. This new version of him—protective, insistent—was unsettling. Who was this man, and what did he want from me?

"Thanks," I muttered as we pulled up to my house. "For the appointment. And lunch."

"Don’t mention it." His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

I reached for the door handle, but his grip on my wrist stopped me.

"Tell me about your next appointment," he demanded, his gaze boring into mine.

I yanked my hand free, his touch scalding. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Because I’m going to be there."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Oh, now you care? You weren’t there for a single one when I was pregnant with Liam. Why show up for a baby that isn’t even yours?"

His jaw tightened. "Just accept it, Sophia. I’ll be there whether you like it or not."

"You’re unbelievable." I shook my head. "What about Isabella? You think she’ll be thrilled about this?"

"Isabella doesn’t matter right now," he snapped, his voice like ice.

My breath caught. Did he just say that? The man who had worshipped the ground she walked on for over a decade?

"What’s gotten into you?" I whispered. "Since when does she not matter?"

"Drop it," he growled.

Typical. Still a sore subject. But I knew better. Isabella never let go of what she wanted, and Ethan had never been able to resist her for long.

Done with the conversation, I shoved the car door open and stepped out. His voice followed me.

"Remember what I said, Sophia. I’ll be there."

The engine roared as he sped off. I stood there, stunned, before turning toward my house.

Then I saw him.

A man watering the lawn next door. Tall, broad-shouldered, his movements effortless. He turned, as if sensing my stare. Our eyes locked, and something flickered in my chest.

He was gorgeous, yes. But that wasn’t what made my pulse skip. It was the nagging feeling I’d seen him before.

I forced a polite smile and hurried inside.

"Mommy!" Liam launched himself at me the second I walked in.

His nanny, Gabriella, had picked him up from school since my appointment ran late. She wasn’t live-in, just someone I called when work kept me.

"How was school?" I asked, dropping my bag on the couch.

"Amazing! I aced my math test!"

"My little genius." I ruffled his hair, grinning as he groaned.

"Mom," he whined, cheeks pink. "Stop it."