Chapter 3

Sophia's POV

Alexander didn't say anything, just showed expressions of pleasure, pain, sadness, and many others, but he didn't reply to me. I had no choice but to grab another bottle.

My fingers were already numb from the alcohol, but I still managed to twist off the cap.

"Sophia!" Alexander roared. "Are you fucking done yet?!"

Honestly, in that moment, it wasn't Alexander flashing through my mind—it was everything I'd given up for him.

Four years ago, I quit my executive position at the family company. My dad slammed his fist on the table and asked if I'd lost my goddamn mind, throwing away my career for some guy.

I said I had found true love.

Dad said, "True love? How can that put food on the table?"

I had no choice but to tell my father everything. Then my arrogant father cried and nodded gently without saying anything more.

From that day on, I woke up at six every morning to make him breakfast. How done he wanted his eggs, how much sugar in his coffee, how crispy the bacon should be—I knew it all by heart.

His shirts had to be pressed perfectly, ties matched just right, even his cufflinks had to be chosen based on which clients he was meeting that day.

No matter how late he came home at night, there was always a hot meal waiting on the table.

What he liked to eat, what he hated, when he wanted something light, when he craved heavy flavors—I knew him better than he knew himself.

When he played golf with his buddies on weekends, I'd have his golf bag ready, even packed the sunscreen for him.

His birthday, his parents' birthdays, his important clients' birthdays—I remembered them all, had gifts ready in advance.

Everyone thought I was a simp, so humble that I prostrated myself, going to any lengths for a man. But I didn't care about what others thought because I actually felt really happy. This was my stolen time.

Nobody in the room was talking anymore. They just stared at me. Their expressions had shifted from mockery to shock, and now to something complicated I couldn't quite read.

Alexander stood in front of me, fists clenched tight.

Just then, Elaine came out from behind the couch, wrapped herself around Alexander's arm all cutesy, and pouted. "Why does she have to play the victim like this? I know women way better than you do. It's actually scary."

Alexander glanced at me, his eyes showing a hint of struggle.

My hands started shaking.

My stomach was churning, my whole body starting to spasm.

I grabbed the table and threw up. Hard.

Eventually, it was just bile, burning my throat raw.

Someone laughed. "Oh man, she can't handle it anymore, can she?"

Someone jeered. "Then quit the act and get the hell out!"

I straightened up, wiped my mouth.

Then I grabbed another bottle.

"Sophia!" Alexander rushed over, yanked the bottle out of my hand, and smashed it on the floor. "Have you lost your fucking mind?!"

I looked up at him.

His face was flushed red, his eyes filled with a panic I'd never seen before.

"But you said I-" I smiled, my voice light and airy.

I pushed him away and bent down to grab another bottle.

The second my fingers touched the glass, Alexander grabbed my wrist.

"Enough!"

My vision started blurring.

The whole world was spinning.

I vaguely heard Alexander say, "Come home with me."

Then Elaine walked over and said to Alexander, "Let me talk to her. I understand women very well." He looked at me deeply, then nodded to Elaine.

She leaned close to my ear, her voice low enough that only I could hear. "You know, I actually know who you really love."

My body went rigid.

"Too bad he's dead," she laughed, the sound sharp and piercing. "Serves him right, ending up with trash like you. It's all your fault that he's dead."

In that instant, my sanity was completely obliterated.

Drunk? What drunk?

I was stone-cold sober now.

I shot up and grabbed her by the throat.

"Who the fuck gave you permission to say that?!" I screamed.

Elaine's face turned bright red instantly. She clawed at my hands, making choking sounds.

"Sophia!" Alexander rushed over.

I stared hard at Elaine, my eyes burning with a mixture of anguish and fury. Pain twisted through my chest like a knife, while grief and rage battled for control within me.

She dared mention him.

She fucking dared mention him.

What right did she have?

"I'm sorry!" Elaine cried. "It's my fault! I was wrong! I know I shouldn't have come back! I shouldn't still be in love with Alexander! But I really just didn't want you to drink too much—it's bad for your health. Please don't hate me."

What?

I froze.

Then a foot slammed hard into my waist.

The force sent me flying. My back crashed against the wall.

I hit the ground and looked up.

Alexander was standing in front of Elaine, protecting her, looking at me like I was a stranger.

We locked eyes for maybe three seconds.

He was shocked by the look in my eyes.

Because in four years together, this was the first time I'd ever looked at him like this.

First time with hatred.

First time with disappointment.

"You dare look at me like that?" he said, shaken by the sheer hatred in my eyes, a flicker of unease crossing his face. "You shouldn't have laid a hand on her."

I opened my mouth.

Wanted to say something, but found I couldn't get a single word out.

The others in the room crowded around.

"That kind of jealousy isn't cool."

"Yeah, way too much."

"She needs to be taught a lesson."

Alexander hesitated.

He looked at Elaine, then at me.

That's when Elaine wiped her tears and said, "I'm fine, really. I don't blame her. Sophia didn't mean to grab my neck."

He looked at my hand, the one that had just choked Elaine, then at my defiant eyes. The brief moment of concern he'd felt vanished, replaced by a possessive fury.

That sentence was like lighting a fuse.

Alexander's eyes went ice cold.

"How can you not blame her? She's fucking crazy jealous!"

Then he waved his hand.

"Teach her a lesson!"

Before I could react, the first punch hit my face.

One punch.

Two punches.

Three punches.

Someone kicked my ribs. Someone grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the wall. Someone stomped on my fingers.

It hurt.

It really fucking hurt.

But honestly, the physical pain was nothing compared to what I felt inside.

I lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

Blood ran into my eyes. The whole world was red.

In my ears—Elaine's shrill laughter, Alexander's cold gaze, the cheers of those so-called friends.

I suddenly remembered a night from years ago.

That person held me and said, "Sophia, you deserve all the gentle treatment in the world."

I smiled and said at the time, "I know."

I seemed to see him. As I kept looking, I couldn't help but cry. I struggled to raise my hand, but it hurt so much. Then my consciousness started fading.