Chapter 4

The slap came down with a sharp whoosh. Sophia instinctively dodged, and John's hand struck the wall behind her with a dull thud.

John clutched his stinging hand, fury blazing in his eyes. "How dare you dodge!"

Sophia stared at his face, twisted with rage, and felt the last thread of hope for familial love finally snap.

Suddenly, she found it all laughable. For five years, she'd desperately tried to escape this house for Daniel. Now she'd returned to fulfill her duty, only to discover she'd always been nothing more than a tool they could use and sacrifice.

It was precisely because this family had never shown her warmth that she'd mistaken Daniel's cheap tenderness for light in the darkness, clinging to it stubbornly, thinking it was her whole world.

How pathetic.

"Why wouldn't I dare dodge?" She straightened her spine, her gaze cold as ice. "How many times have you hit me since childhood? I refuse to live like that anymore!"

Without another glance at their shocked and furious expressions, she turned and grabbed her coat and purse from the entryway, pulling open the front door.

Seeing her walk away without looking back, John roared in rage. "Get back here this instant!"

Sophia didn't stop. Cold wind whipped through her collar, but she felt strangely clear-headed.

The night was deep and dark. She wandered through the streets before finally stepping into Velvet nightclub.

Inside, dim lighting cast long shadows while smooth jazz filled the air, unexpectedly matching her current mood.

Sophia ordered only the strongest whiskey they had. The amber liquid swirled in her glass, reflecting her pale face.

She downed it in one gulp, the burning alcohol searing her throat, but unable to suppress the bitterness churning in her heart.

Just then, a commotion broke out nearby.

A young woman, completely wasted, was being half-dragged, half-carried toward the exit by two men. She was crying incoherently, slurring someone's name.

Watching the girl, Sophia's thoughts were yanked back to a rainy night two years ago.

It had been a celebration party. Daniel was drunk and, in front of everyone, casually gave away the gift she'd carefully prepared to a female colleague.

She had been proud and challenged him publicly. He'd accused her of making a scene and embarrassing him in front of his friends.

That night, she'd done exactly this—run to a bar alone and drowned her sorrows one drink at a time.

The alcohol had numbed her senses while amplifying her pain. She only remembered crying uncontrollably, and then a man had sat down beside her.

She couldn't recall his face clearly, only the faint scent of sandalwood that clung to him—cool and calming, inexplicably comforting.

What happened after that remained a blur.

When she woke up, dawn was breaking. She was lying in a luxurious hotel bed, wearing a clean bathrobe.

The man was long gone.

On the nightstand sat a glass of water, a note, and a thick stack of cash.

The note contained only one line, written in bold, strong handwriting.

[Hangover pills. Remember to take them when you wake up.]

This shameful secret had never been shared with anyone. Sophia had buried it deep in her heart.

She'd never dared to think about it too much.

"Sophia."

Suddenly, a low, resonant voice sounded above her head, carrying familiar authority that pulled her from her chaotic memories.

Sophia looked up sharply and found herself staring into a pair of unfathomable dark eyes.

Benjamin stood at her table, his dark suit jacket draped over his arm. He wore only a crisp white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, giving him a more relaxed, domestic air than his usual distant demeanor.

What was he doing here?

"Mr. Williams." She stood up awkwardly, her mind still foggy.

Benjamin's gaze fell on the half-empty glass in front of her, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. "Drinking alone? Aren't you worried about the danger?"

His voice was neutral, betraying no emotion, yet somehow made Sophia feel inexplicably guilty.

"I was just... in a bad mood. Thought I'd sit for a while," she explained quietly.

As he moved closer, a subtle hint of sandalwood drifted to her nose.

Sophia went rigid.

That scent was identical to the one from the mysterious man two years ago.

The absurd thought flashed through her mind, and she stared at him in shock, hardly believing it possible.

Could it be...?

Benjamin didn't notice her expression change. He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, placing a document on the table and sliding it toward her.

"This is a property I own. It's close to the Williams Group headquarters, and security is excellent." He was characteristically direct. "Don't go back to the Taylor house for now."

Sophia's heart skipped a beat.

Not only did he know she'd left home, but he'd also already arranged somewhere for her to stay.

Had he been watching her?

"You..." She opened her mouth, the question about two years ago hovering on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to ask.

If it really was him, their current relationship would be absolutely absurd.

Benjamin looked up, meeting her searching, confused gaze. Something that might have been amusement flickered in his dark eyes—too quick to catch.

He took her glass and handed it to a server who'd approached. "Bring her a warm milk instead."

Then he looked at her again, his gaze calm and determined, his tone brooking no argument.

"Drink up. Then I'm taking you home."