Chapter 148
Giving up on Sophia Sullivan was absolutely impossible.
This supposedly distant cousin Olivia Lopez mentioned, the one she wasn't close to, actually cared for her deeply.
Then again, Alexander Laurent's aloof exterior was just a facade.
Sophia knew he was simply too busy to express his concern verbally.
His heart was softer than anyone's.
"If anything like this happens again, contact me anytime."
He paused briefly, his gaze subtly shifting toward her.
"Alcohol stimulates the nerves. Mild cases cause nausea and vomiting, severe ones lead to shock or fainting. It's better to drink less. Don't you agree?"
"..."
Knowing he was hinting at her, Sophia's cheeks flushed, the tips of her ears turning pink.
She cleared her throat softly, defending herself.
"Despite its side effects, alcohol offers a brief escape from worries. An occasional release, a proper vent, can be a form of emotional catharsis. Don't you agree?"
Alexander didn't expect her to not only rebut but also mimic his questioning tone. He couldn't help but chuckle.
"There are many ways to vent. Must it be alcohol?"
"Ahem... It varies from person to person. What if someone enjoys it?"
Alexander stopped walking, suddenly turning to face her.
"Do you enjoy it?"
Sophia was slightly taken aback. Meeting his deep gaze, she instinctively looked away and shook her head.
"No, I don't."
Even when Ethan Roscente hurt her deeply in the past, she never drowned her sorrows in drink.
Avoidance solved nothing.
She feared even more the loss of control and rationality that came with drunkenness.
A slight smile touched Alexander's lips.
"No wonder my aunt was worried Olivia would be a bad influence on you."
Sophia: "?"
"If you ever feel like drinking, you can call me."
"To help clean up the mess?" She couldn't help laughing at that.
Alexander nodded, then shook his head.
"Besides that, I might even have a drink with you."
Sophia blinked.
"You? Have a drink with me?"
She couldn't picture Alexander Laurent drinking.
"You don't believe me?" The man raised an eyebrow.
"I don't," Sophia shook her head.
"You can verify it yourself when the opportunity arises."
"Okay."
His gaze was as gentle as water, capable of making one drown in the next second.
"Beep—"
A Mercedes sped past them, its harsh horn cutting through the budding ambiguity.
Sophia snapped back to reality, looking up at the sky.
"It looks like rain. Let's go home."
Without waiting for Alexander's response, she turned and walked away first.
Alexander stood still, watching the girl's retreating figure, a smile unconsciously gracing his lips.
Inside the Mercedes, Ethan watched the man and woman walking side-by-side in the rearview mirror, his grip on the steering wheel tightening repeatedly.
He didn't even notice his knuckles turning white.
Sophia had changed.
She smiled more than before, but those smiles were for another man.
It turned out, all this time, only he had remained stuck in place.
She had already found a new target, someone else by her side.
Whether it was Alexander Laurent or Sebastian Evans, neither was inferior to him!
Ethan didn't want to admit it, but the truth was, after Sophia left him, her life was far better than he had imagined.
The more he realized this, the more unsettled he felt.
Why?
Why could she break away so cleanly, leave so decisively, while he was trapped by memories, unable to break free?
In that moment, Ethan suddenly hated her.
He hated her ruthlessness, hated that she couldn't just give him one more chance, like she used to...
Early morning, heavy rain poured down.
Ethan drove back to the Beverly Hills mansion, parked the car, but didn't want to get out.
Looking at the house right in front of him, that place without Sophia, it could no longer be called a "home."
He took out a cigarette and lit it.
In the enclosed space, the smoke had nowhere to disperse.
The crimson ember burned between his fingers, white smoke rising, quickly blurring his features.
Ethan sank into the darkness, as if merging with the night.
The time it took to smoke one cigarette wasn't long, nor was it short.
The man's previously dazed eyes suddenly cleared as the cigarette burned out—
Giving up on Sophia Sullivan was absolutely impossible!
He had possessed her once, lost her now, but that didn't mean he couldn't have her again in the future.
As long as...
he could win her back, everything could return to how it was before.
Ethan pushed the car door open, threw away the cigarette butt, and walked towards the villa.
Isabella Langley stood at the entrance, a smiling face greeting him.
Ethan glanced at his watch. One o'clock in the morning. Hah...
"Ethan, I..."
Isabella had just begun to speak, not even finishing a complete sentence, when the man walked straight past her and inside.
As if she, a living person standing there, was no different from the air.
Isabella's smile froze instantly.
But quickly, she regained it.
"Ethan, I cooked a few dishes myself tonight. I called but you didn't answer, and my messages couldn't go through. You've blocked me..."
Ethan stopped walking and turned to look at her.
"Are you accusing me?"
"No, no... I just wanted to ask if you could unblock me? I was worried when I couldn't reach you." Isabella spoke carefully.
The man said nothing, not even bothering to voice a refusal.
She, however, acted as if she didn't notice, walking to the dining table and continuing on her own.
"I didn't know when you'd be back, so I could only wait... These dishes have been reheated four or five times. They're definitely inedible now..."
Ethan's eyes swept over the tabletop, and he instantly laughed.
Steamed shrimp, steamed egg with minced pork, stir-fried celery, pickled cabbage and vermicelli soup.
"What is it, Ethan?"
"Good effort. Next time, don't bother."
He was allergic to shrimp, and he didn't eat minced pork or celery either.
The pickled cabbage and vermicelli were neutral, but unfortunately, large slices of ginger floated on the soup's surface, utterly killing any appetite.
She certainly knew how to step on every landmine.
Watching the man's retreating back as he went upstairs, Isabella suppressed the urge to flip the table, took a deep breath—
"Martha!"
No response.
"Mrs. Moore—"
"...Yes, Miss Langley? What is it?"
Mrs. Moore didn't dare to play dumb like Martha did. After all, she hadn't watched the young master grow up.
Isabella instructed expressionlessly, "Clear the table."
"These dishes..."
"Throw them away."
"Okay."
In the master bedroom, Ethan lay on the bed. Seeing Isabella's spread of dishes, he couldn't help but think of Sophia again.
From never having lifted a finger to cook, to preparing meals for him with her own hands—no one had done it better than her.
No matter how late he came home, the food on the table was always warm.
Anything he was allergic to never appeared on the dining table.
There was always a balance of meat and vegetables, nutritionally paired—all things she had painstakingly figured out by studying cookbooks and nutrition guides.
The better he had eaten then, the greater the落差 felt now.
...
The next day, Ethan got up for work.
Isabella seemed incapable of understanding plain language and had prepared breakfast for him again.
Ethan walked straight past without a single glance at the table.
Surprisingly, Isabella wasn't angry either. She smiled and fetched a tie.
"What are you doing?" Ethan grabbed her wrist.
Ethan, let me help with your tie.