Sophia's heart clenched at those words.

She remembered her grandmother's knowing gaze, that hint that Scarlet had powerful backing. The sharp pain from her left arm cast made everything clearer.

"Did you catch Scarlet?" Her voice trembled with urgency.

Ethan set down his phone, exhaustion lining his brow as he turned. "She's gone missing."

"Missing?" Sophia's pupils contracted. "Right when you sent people after her?"

He walked to the sofa, long fingers tapping the armrest. "Her brother will name accomplices in prison. Silencing witnesses isn't surprising."

She pressed her lips together.

Arguing at this hour was pointless. Picking up the first aid kit, her gaze landed on his bloodied right hand.

"How did this happen?" Her voice shook.

Ethan withdrew his hand. "Just a scratch."

"Glass embedded in flesh is just a scratch?" She seized his wrist without hesitation.

His muscles tensed when the antiseptic swab touched the wound. Sophia worked with practiced ease—skills honed from two years of caring for him.

"Next time you're hurt, I'll—" Her words cut off.

Ethan suddenly asked, "Why were you taking birth control?"

The air froze.

Her lashes fluttered. "Children shouldn't be bargaining chips."

"How very thorough of you." His tone was terrifyingly calm.

Closing the kit, she caught the scent of alcohol on him. "I'll make hangover soup."

Ethan yanked her into his arms. Her back pressed against his burning chest, their heartbeats thunderous.

"Don't bother." His breath warmed her ear.

Ascending the stairs, Sophia instinctively slowed her pace. In the bathroom, she adjusted the water temperature, squeezed toothpaste, and waited outside—just like before.

When the water stopped, she entered with a towel. Ethan stood with his back to her, droplets tracing his muscles. A sudden ache filled her nose.

"We're quite the team," he remarked while tying his robe.

She forced a smile. "Mutual support?"

His eyes darkened. "If I lost everything, would you still marry me?"

Her fingers stiffened.

"I have money," she said lightly. "One hundred fifty-six million. Enough to keep you."

Ethan arched a brow. "Where'd that come from?"

"Art restoration pays well." Her eyes brightened. "I even locked some in a three-year CD—thirty million in interest alone."

Cupping his face, she teased, "Don't worry, darling. I'll take care of you."

His arms tightened abruptly. "Why are you so good to me?"

"Because you've been good to my whole family."

His gaze shadowed. "That's all?"

Her heart skipped.

"Do you love me?" His whisper was barely audible.

The hair dryer's roar drowned her silence. Her fingers combed through his damp strands, gentle as handling fragile porcelain.

In bed, Ethan turned away. Sophia stared at the ceiling until sleep claimed her.

A spring thunderclap jolted her awake. The sheets beside her still held residual warmth.

Bare feet met icy floors as she grabbed a coat and dashed outside, her pulse racing wildly.