Chapter 65

Sophia lowered her lashes, the long shadows of her eyelashes falling across her cheeks. Her voice was barely audible. "Not every day... just occasionally."

"Occasionally?" Ethan's lips curled into a mocking smirk.

She suddenly remembered yesterday—when he had caught her and Vivian badmouthing him over WeChat. Her fingertips trembled with guilt. She quickly amended, "Frequently occasionally."

Ethan: "..."

Was there even a difference?

The derision in his eyes deepened.

Surprisingly, he didn’t press further and accepted her resignation letter.

Just as Sophia began to relax, his low voice cut through the silence again. "Has the lawyer contacted you?"

"We’re meeting at noon." Her grip tightened on her bag strap.

Ethan waved a dismissive hand. "Hope you won’t regret it."

"Never." Her voice was steel.

He scoffed and returned to his paperwork.

At noon, the café was thick with the rich aroma of coffee.

Sophia arrived to find Simon Sherwood, impeccably dressed in a suit, already waiting. After brief pleasantries, he slid a document across the table.

"Miss Lowell, please review the compensation terms."

Her smile froze the moment she looked down. The figure—three million—made her pupils constrict. "This is extortion!"

Simon remained impassive. "You unlawfully published Mr. Roscente’s personal information on SpermDonorConnect.com, constituting a criminal offense. Given your relationship, he’s only demanding financial compensation."

"I should be grateful for his mercy?" Her fingers turned ice-cold with rage.

"Mr. Roscente said the money will suffice."

She nearly ground her teeth to dust.

Simon flipped to the next page. "This one million is for facial damages. Mr. Roscente’s face is insured for 1.2 million. You’re getting a discount."

"Is he insane?" A vein throbbed at her temple. "What grown man insures his face?"

"Mr. Roscente said it was your idea."

The memory crashed over her like a wave.

Years ago, on campus, he had shielded her from a thrown chair, leaving a bloody gash on his cheek. She had tenderly traced the wound. "A face this perfect deserves a high-value policy."

He’d pulled her close, his breath hot against her neck. "Does my Sophia care that much?"

"Of course." She’d tilted her face up, brushing her lips against his. "Do it?"

His eyes darkened as his hand slid under her shirt. "That depends on your performance..."

The memory shattered.

Sophia’s knuckles whitened around the document. Every sweet word from the past had become a blade aimed at her heart.