Chapter 257

I brought Sophia to the company at dawn, ensuring every executive met her personally. This officially cemented her position within Blackwood Enterprises.

The entire day was consumed with tasks—ordering Lily's favorite steak from Le Jardin Étoilé through Nathan, coordinating with elite designers for Sophia's wardrobe. Yet all I got in return was a grumbled, "Stinky daddy?"

"Mm." Ethan acknowledged Lily's complaint with a curt nod.

Stinky daddy was still better than being called worse.

"Is your mother asleep?" Ethan asked Lily.

She nodded, clutching her stuffed bunny.

"Then sleep on your own. You're a big girl now—time to be independent." Fatherly discipline differed vastly from maternal coddling.

With that stern command, Lily pouted but obeyed. "Okay..."

Ethan scooped Sophia into his arms effortlessly. Lily's voice piped up instantly. "Hey! Where are you taking Mom?"

"You need sleep. Doesn't your mother?" Ethan glared at the tiny carbon copy of himself.

"Don't bully her!"

"How else would you exist?" he countered.

Lily's nose scrunched in confusion.

Before she could demand an explanation, Sophia's arms curled instinctively around Ethan's neck. Her drowsy murmur slipped out: "Just let me stay like this... drifting through each day... even if I die in your embrace..."

She was dreaming.

A dream where Ethan's presence was inescapable—not as her destroyer, but as the vortex swallowing her resolve.

He didn't respond, only tightened his grip and carried her to his bedroom.

Sophia jolted awake at midnight.

Her left arm was numb, trapped beneath her own weight. As she tried shifting, an immovable force pinned her down. Blinking groggily, her vision focused on the bronzed skin of Ethan's torso inches from her face.

She was curled against him like a pampered feline, her head nestled in the crook of his arm. Ethan remained asleep, one muscular limb crushing her waist.

Attempting to wriggle free without waking him proved futile. The memory of their earlier encounter in his office—the bruises blooming across her thighs—made her throat constrict.

She inched sideways with painstaking care.

His arm became an iron band around her ribs.

"Stop moving." His voice was gravelly with sleep.

"My arm's numb," she protested. "Prisoners get to roll over!"

Tears pricked her eyes.

In one fluid motion, Ethan flipped her beneath him. Moonlight sharpened the predatory glint in his eyes. "Your arm? Mine's been dead for hours. I wasn't touching you tonight—until you started squirming."

Sophia's breath hitched. "You—"

"Keep testing me," he warned, "and I'll show you exactly what happens next."

Only then did she notice the tension corded through his body, his skin fever-hot. Alarm spiked. "Are you ill? Should I call—"

"Stay. Still."

He vaulted off the bed, gloriously unclothed, and stalked to the ensuite. The shower's roar followed the slammed door.

Sophia burrowed into the duvet, pulse racing. Two agonizing hours passed before the water stopped.

Ethan emerged radiating cold fury, his damp hair dripping onto the sheets. Without preamble, he yanked her into an arctic embrace.

"Y-you're freezing!" she stammered.

"Your fault," he bit out.

The chill seeped through her nightgown. Yet within minutes, his body heat enveloped her like a furnace. Sleep dragged her under despite herself.

He kept his word—no further touch.

Whether he slept, she couldn't tell.

Dawn had barely broken when Ethan shook her awake.

"Up. You're accompanying me today."

Sophia rubbed her eyes. "Where—?"

The unspoken question hung between them: Another business escort?

But with Lily's room adjacent, she swallowed the words. Some discussions weren't for little ears.