Sophia's fingers tightened around her milk glass.

Jessica's bluntness caught her off guard.

"Mr. Sullivan and I are just friends," she said softly, maintaining a polite smile.

Jessica arched an eyebrow as she spread jam on her toast. She'd never understand this Eastern habit of dancing around emotions.

In her world, love was meant to be declared boldly.

After breakfast, Sophia sat alone in the living room and dialed Ethan's number.

"Hello?" Zoe's voice answered.

Sophia's fingers turned icy.

"I need to speak with Ethan," she said, her voice frosty.

Zoe chuckled. "He's still resting. Mr. Sullivan Senior asked me to look after him."

"Unnecessary," Sophia bit out.

"That's not your decision," Zoe replied smugly. "The Riverons and Sullivans are collaborating on the Northgate Fish Market project. More partnerships are coming."

Sophia scoffed. "Isabella Valentine said the same thing."

"I'm nothing like that airhead," Zoe snapped.

Hanging up, Sophia marched to the kitchen.

She needed to busy her hands.

Three hours later, she arrived at the hospital with a thermos of chicken soup.

The hallway stood empty—no sign of Ethan's usual bodyguards.

Two unfamiliar men blocked the door.

"Miss Laurent, you should leave," one said apologetically.

Sophia silently took a seat on the bench.

She waited eight hours.

Only when doctors finished rounds did she learn Ethan had woken.

"Is he...alright?" Her voice trembled.

The doctor smiled. "Too many medical dramas? Just a mild concussion. He'll recover in days."

Sophia exhaled in relief.

Gathering courage, she asked the guard to relay a message.

"Mr. Sullivan refuses to see you," the guard reported with an odd expression.

Her heart plummeted.

She tried calling—only to find herself blocked.

"Give this to him?" She offered the thermos.

Inside the room, Ethan glared at a photograph, eyes stormy.

"Sir, Miss Laurent's soup—"

"Trash it," he said like shards of ice.

The guard hesitated.

Finally, Ethan waved tiredly. "Leave it."

The door burst open.

Zoe strode in, spotting the pink thermos.

"Someone beat me to it," she simpered.

Ethan shoved the photo under his pillow. "Get out."