The faint crackle of a cigarette being extinguished reached her ear, followed by a low, throaty laugh. “So impatient? You’ve always been this reckless.”

Sophia’s lips twisted into a bitter line. Her voice was sharp, laced with irritation and defiance. “Are you coming or not? If not, I’m leaving.”

A brief silence hung between them before his amused tone returned. “Oh, I’ll be there. It’s been too long. I’m starving for you. You better be prepared.”

His heavy breathing through the phone sent a chill down her spine. Her legs felt unsteady.

She ended the call abruptly, her hands shaking as she quickly booked the hotel room.

Restlessness consumed her. She didn’t wait for the hotel staff to bring the key. Instead, she ducked into a public restroom, scrubbing herself clean under the spray, desperate to wash away the lingering frustration of the night.

When she finally entered the room, he was already waiting. The air was thick with the scent of tobacco and his distinct, musky cologne. It made her head swim. He stood by the window, his eyes flickering to her damp hair. A predatory gleam lit his gaze. Without a word, he crossed the room and pulled her against him.

“Sophia, you grow more tempting every time.”

She let out a soft, breathy laugh, playfully pushing him back, though her touch held no real resistance.

They fell into a night of wild, reckless passion.

Dawn arrived, painting the sky in pale hues. The hotel room was a disaster of tangled sheets and discarded clothing.

Sophia groaned as she pushed herself up, her body aching deeply. Bruises marred her skin, visible in the early light. She winced as she dressed, each movement stiff and deliberate.

While buttoning her blouse, her voice cut through the stale air. “I’ve repaid my debt. Now, arrange another ‘accident’ for Isabella. This time, I want her gone.”

The hacker lounged lazily against the headboard, lighting a cigarette. He took a long drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke. His lips curled into a smirk. “After the effort you showed last night, I guarantee it,” he drawled.

She knew exactly what he meant by “effort.”

She shot him a look, equal parts annoyance and teasing. “Do your part, and once I’m Ethan’s wife, you’ll be rewarded handsomely.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound low and mocking. “Ethan’s reputation is spotless, yet his beloved is making him a cuckold.”

Sophia rolled her eyes, ignoring his crude humor. She had no time for his jabs. Her focus was absolute—Isabella had to be eliminated. Ethan would be hers.

She finished dressing, grabbed her bag, and walked out without a backward glance.

His grin faded as the door clicked shut. His eyes hardened, the amusement replaced by a cold, calculating glint. “Ethan, your downfall is coming,” he muttered, flicking ash onto the floor.

When Sophia returned to Hawthorne Residence, the first light of morning stretched across the sky. Beatrice hadn’t arrived yet, and the house was enveloped in silence.

She slipped into an empty guest room, scrubbing away any remaining traces of the night. She dressed carefully in long sleeves and pants, ensuring every mark was hidden from view.

As Sophia emerged, she spotted Ethan lingering by the master bedroom door, his knocks soft and hesitant.

“Isabella, I know you’re angry with me, but neglecting your health to prove a point is foolish! Do you really think skipping breakfast will make me feel guilty?”

An undertone of urgency colored his voice, his brow slightly furrowed.