Chapter 89

The morning sun cast golden streaks across the bedroom as Sophia stirred awake.

Her phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand.

She reached for it, blinking against the brightness of the screen.

A message from Daniel.

Her breath hitched.

"We need to talk."

Three words that never meant anything good.

Sophia sat up, her fingers trembling as she typed a reply.

"About what?"

She waited, heart pounding.

The dots appeared, then disappeared.

Then—

"Not over text. Meet me at the café near the precinct. Noon."

Sophia exhaled sharply.

This couldn’t be good.

She glanced at the clock—10:37 AM.

Enough time to overthink.

She threw back the covers and headed for the shower.

The hot water did little to ease the tension coiling in her stomach.

What could Daniel possibly want to discuss?

Their last conversation had been strained, but nothing catastrophic.

Unless…

Her stomach dropped.

Had he found out about Ethan’s latest threats?

Or worse—had Ethan made good on them?

She shut off the water and wrapped herself in a towel.

Her reflection in the mirror looked pale, shadows under her eyes.

She needed to pull herself together.

By the time she dressed—black jeans, a cream sweater, boots—her nerves were frayed.

She grabbed her keys and headed out.

The café was only a fifteen-minute drive, but it felt like an eternity.

Daniel was already there when she arrived, seated at a corner table.

His expression was unreadable.

Sophia slid into the chair across from him.

"You look like hell," he said bluntly.

She snorted. "Thanks."

A waitress appeared, and Sophia ordered a latte.

Daniel didn’t touch his coffee.

Silence stretched between them.

Finally, Sophia couldn’t take it anymore.

"What’s going on, Daniel?"

He leaned forward, his voice low.

"I got a call last night. From an old contact."

Sophia frowned. "And?"

Daniel’s jaw tightened.

"Ethan’s not just making threats, Sophia. He’s moving."

Her blood ran cold.

"What does that mean?"

Daniel’s gaze locked onto hers.

"It means he’s coming for you. And this time, he won’t stop until he gets what he wants."

Sophia’s latte arrived, but she couldn’t bring herself to drink it.

Her hands were shaking too badly.

Daniel reached across the table, covering her fingers with his.

"I won’t let him hurt you," he said quietly.

Sophia swallowed hard.

But the question lingered between them—

How?

Because Ethan Blackwood didn’t play by the rules.

And neither did the storm that was coming.

Ethan Blackwood had clearly been working all day. So had my parents. I'd hired Elizabeth to keep me updated about Sophia's next doctor's appointment, but when she hesitated, I took matters into my own hands. I know that makes me an insufferable bastard—always pushing boundaries—but I’ve never been one to back down. Right now, all I want is to be there for her.

If it were up to me, I would’ve picked her up myself. Instead, I chose to wait at the clinic, already defying her wishes.

I haven’t felt this nervous in years. The last time my stomach twisted like this was when I lost my virginity at thirteen—clueless, fumbling, and embarrassingly quick. The memory makes me grimace.

Shaking off the thought, I focus on the clinic door. I arrived early, knowing I’d have to wait.

"Ethan? What are you doing here?" Her voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

I hadn’t even noticed her approach. How long had I been sitting here, lost in my head?

Turning to face her, my breath catches. She was breathtaking. Effortlessly stunning. How had I never seen it before? How had I ever believed she couldn’t compare to Isabella?

Some might call it the pregnancy glow, but I disagree. Isabella spent hours perfecting her appearance before stepping outside. Sophia, though? She didn’t need makeup. I’d seen her exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, and she still looked perfect to me.

Clearing my throat, I answer, "I told you I’d be at every appointment."

A shadow crosses her face. She’s furious—rightfully so. I brace myself for the explosion, but strangely, it doesn’t faze me.

My gaze drifts over her figure. The dress she’s wearing hugs her curves in all the right places.

When my eyes meet hers again, I know she’s about to tell me to leave. Before she can, I stand, cup her face, pull her close, and press a kiss to her forehead.

She freezes, stunned.

My lips linger. I know I should let go, but this feels right. Like she was always meant to be in my arms—if only I hadn’t been so damn stubborn.

Reluctantly, I release her. Her eyes are wide, lips parted in shock.

"What the hell, Ethan?" she snaps when she recovers. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I wanted to," I say with a shrug.

Before she can respond, her name is called. She glares at me before storming off. I follow, smirking, my gaze fixed on the sway of her hips.

Inside the exam room, everything is set up.

"Good to see you, Sophia," Dr. Bennett says warmly before nodding at me. "Mr. Blackwood."

"You too, Dr. Bennett," Sophia replies while I simply nod.

I was surprised to learn Dr. Bennett had delivered Liam and was now overseeing this pregnancy too.

"You know the drill, dear. Change into this, and we’ll check on your little one," the doctor says.

Sophia takes the gown and disappears into the changing room. Minutes later, she returns and lies on the exam table.

"Today, we’ll do a transvaginal scan first," Dr. Bennett explains.

"Is something wrong?" Sophia asks, concern flickering in her eyes.

"Not at all. It’s routine—just to ensure your cervix is healthy." The doctor smiles reassuringly. "I’ll insert this now. Let me know if it’s uncomfortable, okay?"

Meanwhile, back at home, I was bored out of my mind.

With Natalie handling the day-to-day operations of The Hope Foundation, there was little for me to do besides sign documents.

Lucas Montgomery, our new neighbor, had become a good friend over the past week. He owned a construction company and was just as busy as I was during the day.

I was so restless that I considered returning to work—even at five months pregnant. Instead, I picked up my phone and dialed.

"Mrs. Delaney? How are you?" I ask.

We lived in the same neighborhood, and she’d called days ago, asking if I could tutor her struggling high schooler in biology.

"I’m wonderful, dear! So glad you called. How are you?" Her cheerful voice makes me smile.

"I’m well, thank you," I say, pausing. "I was calling about tutoring your daughter. Are you still interested?"

I hoped she hadn’t found someone else—though others had reached out too.

"Oh, absolutely! I’ve been praying you’d reconsider!"

When she first asked, I’d just started my leave and declined. Now, I was desperate for something to do.

"Perfect. How about after school? She can come to my place," I suggest.

Afternoons worked for me. Maybe I could even help with the sex toy business—discreetly, of course.

"Wonderful! Will you charge per session or weekly?"

"It’s free," I say. "I’m just looking for ways to fill my time."

Silence. Then, hesitantly: "Are you sure?"

"Positive. Have her come by today, and we’ll start immediately."

Money wasn’t an issue. My assets could sustain generations. Teaching was a passion, not a paycheck.

After hanging up, I called three more parents who’d asked for tutoring. Each reacted the same—shocked I wouldn’t accept payment.

By the third call, I realized they knew nothing about me beyond being a teacher. Living in a middle-class neighborhood meant no gossip columns. And I loved that.

No special treatment. Just normalcy.

Satisfied, I leaned back, smiling. For the first time in months, I felt like things were falling into place.

Giddy, I headed to the shower, letting the hot water relax me further.

Afterward, I rifled through my closet—now filled with clothes I’d bought after donating everything Ethan had given me.

I chose a cream bodycon dress, admiring my reflection. Pregnancy had done wonders for my curves.

Today, I did my makeup—soft and natural—and curled my hair. Slipping into ballet flats, I was ready.

Then my phone rang.

An unknown number.

I answered.