Chapter 265

Sophia was breathtaking.

She had always been reserved, her expression often unreadable—except when she smiled for her mother. Ethan had seen that smile before. It was sweet, innocent.

Like a schoolgirl’s.

He had also witnessed her aloofness, the quiet solitude that clung to her like a second skin. But this? The lazy, effortless grace she exuded now? It was intoxicating.

Mesmerizing.

He couldn’t look away.

"Does it suit me?" Sophia asked casually.

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she’d be here, playing this role. Even during those two years behind bars, she had clung to hope.

She had studied architecture under Victoria’s guidance, dreaming of a stable job, a modest life—one where she could care for her mother and maybe, just maybe, find love.

But fate had other plans.

The moment Benjamin bailed her out and demanded her "services" for Ethan, her path was set.

If this was her reality now, she would be professional about it.

She met Ethan’s gaze, her eyes shimmering. "Well? Does it look good?"

"Change it," Ethan commanded.

Sophia blinked. "What?"

The boutique’s top sales associate hesitated, then forced a polite smile. "Of course, Mr. Blackwood. If this one isn’t to your liking, we have plenty of others—"

"You misunderstood," Ethan cut in.

The associate froze. "Sir?"

"Get her another style. But this one?" His fingers brushed the peacock-blue fabric. "Wrap it up. It’s not for sale."

Sophia looked stunning in that shade—radiant, alluring.

And he had no intention of sharing that sight with anyone else.

"Put her in the white dress," he said, nodding toward a delicate piece on display.

The associate bowed slightly. "Right away, sir."

She guided Sophia back to the dressing room.

This time, the dress was simple yet elegant—a high-necked, sleeveless design with a single ruby button at the nape. The bodice hugged her frame, adorned with a subtle diamond trim. A scarlet ribbon cinched the waist, flaring into a soft, knee-length skirt.

When Sophia stepped out, even she was surprised.

It was exactly her style.

The associate, however, bit her lip. "Miss, this might not be… appropriate for the occasion."

Sophia tilted her head. "Why not?"

The woman merely smiled. "Let’s see what Mr. Blackwood thinks."

Ethan’s reaction was immediate.

His breath caught.

"Perfect," he murmured.

Sophia exhaled in relief. No more fittings.

Trying on clothes for someone else’s approval was exhausting.

"Tired?" Ethan asked.

She shrugged. "It’s fine."

He turned to the associate. "Wrap up everything I selected."

The woman nearly beamed. "Right away, sir!"

Ethan studied Sophia. "Do you like them?"

Every piece had been chosen with her in mind—styles that complemented her quiet elegance.

Sophia lowered her gaze. "It doesn’t matter."

Ethan frowned.

She added softly, "I only need one. The rest would be wasteful."

A not-so-subtle reminder—she wasn’t keeping these. She couldn’t afford to.

His jaw tightened. "You’ll wear more than just this one dress today. And in the future."

Ah.

Of course.

There would be others. Many others. Maybe even multiple in a single day.

How many outfits would she need then?

She fell silent as Ethan took her hand and led her out. Behind them, the sales staff whispered.

"They look like royalty together."

"Mr. Blackwood seems older, though. That girl—she looks so young in that dress. Early twenties, maybe?"

"Lucky woman."

Sophia almost laughed.

Lucky?

Happiness, for her, was simple—her daughter safe and thriving, her brother alive somewhere in the world.

That was all she needed.

The car ride was quiet. Their destination? The Velvet Club.

Sophia had never been anywhere so opulent. The places Liam had taken her years ago paled in comparison. Even Isabella’s choice yesterday was nothing next to this.

Before they even stepped inside, the aura of exclusivity was palpable.

The interior was sleek, subdued—nothing like the chaotic nightclubs she’d glimpsed before. Few patrons lingered, the atmosphere refined.

Ethan guided her into the elevator.

Sixth floor.

The doors slid open, and his fingers closed around her wrist. She stiffened but didn’t pull away.

The private room was massive—a sprawling space with a bar, plush seating, even a lounge area. A dozen people mingled inside, men in sharp suits, women draped elegantly beside them.

Conversation hummed. The women were demure, legs crossed, exchanging polite smiles.

Sophia inhaled.

This was her world now.