Chapter 219

Sophia fought with all her might, but the more she resisted, the tighter Ethan's grip became. Physically, she stood no chance against him. Even ten of her couldn't break free from his iron hold.

Her struggles weakened.

A sudden realization struck her—her resistance was futile. The moment she followed him back to Harborview City from Willowbrook County, the second he brought her home from the hospital, her fate had been sealed. She was destined to return to his world.

And now, he was treating her like this.

A bitter question echoed in her mind: Didn’t you already know this would happen?

Haven’t you secretly longed for this all along?

For years, no matter how hard she ran, a sliver of hope had lingered in her heart.

She had fled with Lily, relying on Noah’s kindness, yet she had never allowed herself to truly love him. Because deep down, she had never forgotten Ethan.

Her body stilled.

At that exact moment, his lips claimed hers.

Finally, Ethan felt it—the rightness of the woman in his arms.

For so long, even knowing Isabella carried his child, he had resisted marrying her. He had searched for that feeling with her—the one he’d experienced that fateful night—but it was never there.

The girl from that night had been shy, trembling in his embrace, yet fiercely resilient when he pushed her limits.

Isabella was nothing like that.

She was vain, deceitful, and manipulative.

How could she have been the one?

His regret over their almost-marriage had nothing to do with Sophia’s interference. Even without her, he would have called it off. He had made a vow to his mother—one marriage, one wife, no other women.

And if he was to marry only once, it had to be real.

He had already married.

To Sophia—the woman who had given him that feeling.

From the moment he walked away from the altar, he had been searching for her.

Six years.

Six years of cat and mouse, of her slipping through his fingers every time he got close.

A cunning little fox.

If not for Noah’s slip-up, if not for his meticulous planning—arriving in Willowbrook under an alias, befriending local troublemakers, orchestrating that incident at Lily’s kindergarten—would he ever have found her?

Would he have ever seen his daughter again?

Or the only woman who had ever truly been his wife?

He wanted to punish her.

Even this kiss was ruthless, leaving her no room to resist.

Just as she gasped for air, he lifted her effortlessly and tossed her into the steaming bathtub.

His bath was massive—more like a private spa.

A porcelain lounger sat submerged, the jets massaging every inch of skin. The luxury was almost overwhelming.

Sophia had never experienced anything like it. The moment she hit the water, panic seized her. She flailed, water spraying everywhere, her screams muffled by the cascading jets.

"Help! Help!"

She was a terrible swimmer, and the water only reached her thighs, but fear made her irrational.

Droplets mixed with tears on her flushed face, making her look utterly pitiful.

Ethan stepped in, his cold chuckle sending shivers down her spine. He hauled her against him, steadying her.

"Pathetic. It’s just a bathtub, not the ocean. Are you afraid of water—or me?"

His breath fanned her ear, deep and mocking.

Her pulse skyrocketed.

She couldn’t tell if he was teasing or taunting. "I—I’m scared of you. And... the water."

"Scared of me?" His voice dropped, dangerously soft.

Sophia swallowed.

Why was she afraid?

Even after bearing his child, she had never been this close to a man since that night. Not even with Noah.

And now, trapped in a bath with Ethan, his body pressed to hers—how could she not be terrified?

"Ah. I forgot." His thumb brushed her jaw. "That night was pitch black. You never saw me. No wonder you’re trembling." His grip tightened. "But fear won’t save you tonight."

Before she could react, he yanked her against his chest.

Her breath hitched.

The man who had seemed so cold, so merciless, was now meticulously washing her with shocking gentleness. For a fleeting moment, the warmth of the water and his hands lulled her into drowsy submission.

This Ethan—tender, almost possessive—felt like a stranger.

The heat sapped her strength.

She sagged against him.

His lips grazed her ear, his voice a sinful whisper. "Funny how things change. Six years ago, you served me. Now, I’m the one serving you."

A rough chuckle.

"You haven’t changed at all. Still so damn cunning."

"I’m not—" Her voice broke. "I never fought you. Back then, I just wanted a safe home for Lily. I never wanted to take anything from you!"

Tears spilled over.

Ethan’s gaze darkened. He caught one on his thumb, then pressed his lips to her damp cheek.

"Then answer me," he murmured. "Will you run again?"