Chapter 272

Sophia had maintained a careful distance from Ethan's chest, but his sudden movement pressed them flush together. The soft curves of her body molded perfectly against his firm torso, his scorching body heat seeping through the thin fabric of her dress.

Her breath hitched. "Understood," she managed, her voice tight.

Her fingers dug into the sleeves of his suit jacket as she stiffened. "Mr. Roscente, let go—people might see."

Ethan leaned in closer, crushing her against him. A cold laugh rumbled in his throat. "You dare scheme against me, yet fear being seen?"

"Not for my sake," she countered, tilting her head back until her hair brushed his jaw. "But if the paparazzi snap photos of you harassing me..." Her lips curled into a mocking smile. "Wouldn’t that ruin your untouchable ice prince image?"

His grip slackened instantly.

Sophia seized the chance to step back, smoothing her tousled hair. When she looked up again, her practiced smile was flawless—as if their heated exchange had never happened.

"Your audacity grows," he sneered.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Who could possibly outmatch this man in shamelessness?

"Coming from you, that’s high praise," she said with a slight bow. "Though I still have much to learn."

The barb in her words made his eyes narrow, but he only shot her a warning glare before disappearing into the crowd.

Meanwhile, the sound of shattering glass echoed through a VIP room at a high-end spa.

Isabella Valentine stared at her phone screen, her overfilled cheeks contorted with rage. The photo of Sophia tilting her face toward Ethan scraped against her nerves like a blade.

"Filthy bitch!" Her crystal nails dug into her palms.

The mirror reflected her distorted face, still swollen from Vivian’s slaps three days prior. The fresh fillers shifted dangerously with her violent emotions.

What drove her madder was the photo’s location tag—Hong Kong. The city held painful significance for Ethan. It was where he and his mother had lived before the Roscente family took him in at age seven.

"How dare she?" She hurled a serum bottle at the mirror.

The fractured glass reflected countless twisted versions of her face. Her father, William Valentine, had warned her never to mention Hong Kong—it was Ethan’s deepest wound, one even she avoided.

Her phone buzzed with Sophia’s flight details from that morning. Isabella suddenly laughed, tracing Sophia’s smiling face on the screen with a blood-red nail.

"Since you’re begging for death..." She dialed a number, her voice dripping with poisoned sweetness. "Prepare something special for me."