Chapter 391

"The only one, Mrs. Bennett?" Sophia rushed into the kitchen, finding Eleanor stirring a pot of soup.

Eleanor smiled warmly. "Mrs. Blackwood, you should rest more. Little Lily was taken by Nathan early this morning. Master Ethan instructed him to take her to the amusement park. She was so excited when she left—she even told me not to wake you."

"Oh… Thank you, Eleanor." Sophia returned the smile.

Hearing this, Sophia remembered Ethan’s words from yesterday—today was the day he would teach her how to drive.

Of course, Lily couldn’t come along.

But knowing she was safe with Nathan eased Sophia’s mind.

After breakfast, Ethan drove her to the driving school they had visited before. Last time, they’d arrived near dusk, but now, in the bright morning light, the place seemed oddly deserted. Even on a weekend, there were no other students—just the principal, the accountant, and a couple of instructors.

Sophia watched as Ethan handed over a thick stack of cash to the accountant. The principal hesitated, refusing at first, but at Ethan’s firm command—"Take it."—he finally relented.

Twenty thousand dollars.

For a driver’s license?

As the principal went to print the receipt, Sophia glanced around, her unease growing. She leaned closer to Ethan and whispered, "I… I don’t want to learn here."

Ethan frowned. "Why? I’ve already paid."

Her voice turned slightly accusatory. "You didn’t even discuss it with me. And why pay without checking the place first? This doesn’t seem right."

"What’s wrong with it?" He studied her, puzzled. Normally composed, she was unusually flustered today.

She gestured around. "Look at this place. There’s barely anyone here—just a few staff members. No students. Every driving school I’ve seen before has instructors swarmed with trainees. This one’s practically abandoned. That means bad reputation, bad teaching. And they’re charging twenty thousand?"

Sophia had always been careful with money. Every penny mattered. Twenty thousand for a license felt like daylight robbery.

But Ethan’s expression shifted into something unreadable.

"What?" she asked warily.

He smirked.

Just then, the principal returned, bowing slightly as he handed Ethan the receipt. "Master Blackwood, here you are."

Sophia seized the chance. "Principal, why are there no other students today?"

The principal hesitated, then answered nervously, "Madam, with you and Master Blackwood here, we couldn’t possibly allow others in. Per his orders, we cleared the premises early this morning."

"Cleared the—" Sophia’s eyes widened.

She turned to Ethan, incredulous. His face remained impassive as he said coolly, "Did you really think, at your skill level, we could risk having other people around?"

She flushed.

"You panic just learning. What if you hit someone? Could you handle that responsibility?" His voice was sharp. "Your life might be worthless, but my daughter can’t lose her mother."

Sophia pressed her lips together. Harsh as always.

But she didn’t argue. She knew better than to challenge him.

Instead, she changed the subject. "Which instructor will teach me?"

"Me."

Silence.

Internally, she groaned. Of course. He had to waste twenty thousand just to use the space, refusing to let anyone else teach her.

As if reading her mind, he smirked again. "Stop judging me. With your level, no instructor in Harborview would dare take you on. So I’m doing it myself."

He paused, then added, "And since we’re using their facilities, paying is only fair. Unless you think you can get your license without their paperwork?"

Sophia blinked.

Fair? Since when did Ethan Blackwood care about fairness?

But she didn’t voice that thought. His intuition was terrifyingly sharp—he always seemed to know what she was thinking.

Before she could dwell on it, Ethan pulled two large bags from the trunk and handed her one. "Go change. Women’s restroom."

Inside, she found a soft cotton sweater, comfortable pants, and flat shoes—all perfectly fitted.

Sophia exhaled.

It was strange. He never asked for her sizes, yet everything he bought fit flawlessly.

She remembered the last time she’d questioned him. His response had been, "Which part of you haven’t I touched? Do you think my hands forgot?"

She’d learned not to ask again.

Now, as she studied her reflection, she couldn’t deny his taste. The outfit was simple yet elegant, tailored to her frame and style.

His eye for detail was unsettling.

Every piece he chose suited her—not just her body, but her essence.

And that realization left her breathless.