Chapter 30

Four days until resignation.

Sophia Lowell traced the red circle on her calendar with her fingertip. It was finally coming to an end. She exhaled slowly.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Vivian Ashcroft. Sophia replied briefly, politely declining the dinner invitation.

As expected, Vivian immediately sent an eight-hundred-word rant, every sentence dripping with venom for Ethan Roscente. Sophia's lips curved upward as angry emojis flooded her screen.

The office emptied early as colleagues hurried to the gathering. Sophia stayed behind to organize the final documents, asking Jessica Piente to keep an eye on Isabella Valentine.

When she pushed open the private room door, Sophia immediately spotted Isabella, cheeks flushed, reclining on the sofa with half a glass of red wine still in her hand.

"I couldn't stop her," Jessica apologized. "I just stepped out to the restroom, and when I came back, she was like this."

Sophia pressed her lips together. Isabella was the future Mrs. Roscente—who would dare interfere?

"Sophia!"

Isabella suddenly lifted her head, eyes hazy with intoxication, and beckoned. "I'm dizzy. Could you walk me out? My assistant is waiting."

Sophia considered suggesting the assistant come inside instead, but Isabella cut her off: "Won't you even do this small favor for me? Ethan specifically asked you to look after me."

Under everyone's gaze, Sophia had no choice but to step forward and support her. Isabella leaned into her shoulder with a sweet smile. "Thank you."

Under the hallway lights, Isabella abruptly straightened, all traces of drunkenness gone.

"You're in love with Ethan." It wasn't a question.

Sophia released her arm, maintaining a professional smile. "You've had too much to drink, Ms. Valentine."

"Stop pretending." Isabella's laugh was cold. "The way you look at him—it's obvious."

Sophia's fingers trembled slightly, but her smile didn't waver. "Someone like Mr. Roscente is far beyond my reach."

"Good. Remember your place." Isabella stepped closer, eyes sharp. "Ethan is mine. Always will be."

Sophia narrowed her eyes. In that moment, she was certain—Isabella wasn't the one who had sent those threatening messages.

"You think that face of yours can seduce a Roscente man?" Isabella circled her, voice dripping with disdain. "Do you really think Mr. Roscente Sr. would let history repeat itself? Just like what happened with your aunt."

Sophia's breath hitched. Her aunt Emily's story was her deepest wound.

"I heard your aunt stripped naked and climbed into old Mr. Roscente's fourth son's bed." Isabella smirked maliciously. "Is that how all you Lowell women operate? Your mother probably—"

A sharp slap echoed through the hallway.

Sophia stared at her stinging palm, momentarily dazed.

"Sophia!"

Ethan Roscente's icy voice cut through the air behind her.