Chapter 165

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the hospital corridor as Sophia paced restlessly.

Her fingers trembled as she clutched her phone, the screen dark and silent.

No calls. No messages.

Liam had been missing for hours.

Ethan Blackwood’s voice crackled through the phone when she finally dialed his number. "Sophia, I’m on my way. Stay where you are."

She exhaled sharply, her nails digging into her palms.

The sterile scent of antiseptic burned her nostrils, a cruel reminder of the last time she had been in this hospital—when Iris was born.

Now, her son was gone.

A nurse approached, her expression carefully neutral. "Mrs. Blackwood, we’ve checked every floor. There’s no sign of him."

Sophia’s stomach twisted.

Liam wouldn’t just wander off. Not after everything that had happened.

Her phone buzzed.

An unknown number.

Her breath hitched as she swiped to answer.

A distorted voice chuckled. "Looking for someone, Sophia?"

Ice flooded her veins.

She recognized that tone—the same one from the night Victor Graves had cornered her in the alley.

But Graves was dead.

Which meant someone else was playing this game.

Ethan burst through the doors, his dark eyes scanning the room before locking onto her. "What happened?"

Sophia swallowed hard.

"They took him."

The words tasted like ash.

Ethan’s jaw clenched. "Who?"

She handed him the phone, the call still connected.

The voice laughed again. "Ah, Ethan. So good of you to join us."

Ethan’s grip tightened on the device. "What do you want?"

"Same thing I’ve always wanted," the voice purred. "A reckoning."

Then the line went dead.

Sophia’s knees buckled.

Ethan caught her before she could fall, his arms wrapping around her like steel bands. "We’ll get him back."

She wanted to believe him.

But the clock was ticking.

And somewhere out there, Liam was alone.

With monsters.

Ethan Blackwood

"Are you planning to sulk here indefinitely?" Sebastian snaps, irritation lacing his tone.

I don’t dignify him with a response. My gaze remains fixed on the whiskey swirling in my glass, the amber liquid mocking me with its clarity—unlike the mess I’ve made with Sophia.

I’m not foolish enough to dismiss her reaction as irrational. She’s behaving exactly as anyone would after being repeatedly wounded by those they trusted most.

A relentless urge claws at me—to ease her pain, to erase every scar I’ve left. But how? When I’m the one who carved them into her in the first place.

"You can’t keep this up, Ethan. If she’s ghosting you, back the hell off! Isabella’s throwing herself at you, for Christ’s sake. It’s not like you’re short on options," he mutters, dropping into the chair across from me.

I don’t entertain his nonsense. Instead, I shoot him a glare sharp enough to draw blood. "If my mood offends you, the door’s right there."

He doesn’t get it. And I’m not in the mood to explain. Every fiber of me rejects Isabella—rejects anyone who isn’t Sophia.

I used to loathe her. Convinced I’d never crave her. Famous last damn words. Now, she’s all I see—every thought, every fantasy, drenched in her.

Karma’s a vicious bitch. The moment I admit I want her, she’s already gone. The proof? She’s carrying another man’s child. A brutal declaration that she’s moved on.

I was once the only man who’d touched her. The only one who knew her intimately. And like an idiot, I never valued that privilege. Now, someone else knows the taste of her skin, and it fucking guts me. Daniel gave her what I withheld during our marriage.

I shove the thoughts aside, striding to the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office. The mere idea of another man’s hands on her is torture. Maybe now I understand how she felt when I flaunted Isabella between us.

Damn it. How do I make her see I’m not here to hurt her? That I want to fix what I broke?

You want to fix it, yet you won’t admit you love her? A voice sneers. When will you stop lying to yourself?

I silence it. Refusing to drown.

Yes, I feel something for Sophia. I don’t know when it started. But if I told her now? She’d laugh in my face. After nine years of cruelty, why would she believe me?

The door creaks open. I don’t turn.

"What’s got you in such a charming mood?" Sebastian drawls.

I don’t need to look to know he’s talking to Nathan. We’ve been friends since diapers. We know each other’s tells better than our own.

"Sophia."

Her name whips me around. My focus zeroes in on Nathan.

He looks wrecked. Dark circles, hollow cheeks—like he hasn’t slept in weeks.

"What happened?" My voice is rougher than I intend.

"I asked for her help with the company. She refused." He exhales, rubbing his temples.

I’ve offered to step in, but he’s stubborn. The Prescotts kept their word. Sterling Corp is sinking. Without intervention, it’ll be bankrupt in two months.