Sophia had drifted off to sleep, her body exhausted from the constant tension. The quietness of the room was suddenly shattered by the sound of the door creaking open. A dark figure loomed in the doorway, hunched and ominous. She squinted, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. Mark Smith. The third son of the wealthy Smith family. His fiery gaze bore into her as he gritted his teeth, his presence suffocating. Without a word, he strode across the room, locking the door behind him, the sound of the padlock echoing in the silence.
He approached her, his voice low, laced with anger. "How much do you want, Sophia? You went to take care of your family, right?"
Sophia frowned, confusion knitting her brows. "What are you talking about?"
Mark's eyes flared with frustration. "Raymond openly rejected his engagement to Amelia because of you. Right now, she's packing her things. I lost my shot at becoming the UK Prime Minister because of you."
Sophia's heart skipped a beat. She had never imagined Raymond would publicly declare his feelings. Regret washed over her. If only she hadn't missed the family gathering, maybe she could have stopped all of this from happening.
She took a deep breath and found her voice, steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her. "None of this is my fault, Mark."
His face twisted with rage. "You have the guts to say that to me?"
Sophia stood her ground, her eyes unwavering. "Guts? You don't even know what guts are. I feel the same way about Raymond."
Mark's fury erupted. "How dare you!!!"
Sophia's voice dropped to a sharp, cutting tone. "Shut up, Mark. Take a good look at your life. Your worth is defined by what you have. When will you stop chasing after power and see life for what it truly is? You're so consumed with ambition, you're blind to everything else. You think using your brother's feelings will get you to be Prime Minister?"
Mark's lips curled into a devilish smile, his words dripping with disdain. "Our family will never accept you. You're a lowlife bastard."
Sophia's lips curved into a mocking smile. "Aww, this lowlife bastard affects the heir to the Smith Group. I'm so sorry," she said sarcastically.
In a blur of motion, Mark slapped her across the face, the sting sharp and unexpected. "I will never watch you become a part of us!!!"
Sophia's cheek burned, but her eyes gleamed with defiance. "RIP then," she said with a wink, unlocking the door and stepping out, her movements graceful and deliberate.
***
Mark drove to a nearby pub, his mind a storm of emotions. He filled glass after glass, empty bottles accumulating around him like the remnants of his failed ambitions. Yet, no matter how much he drank, the anger inside him refused to numb. Frustrated, he hurled one of the bottles across the room, the sound of glass shattering sharp in the air.
And then, she appeared. Guinevere. The woman from his past. The one he had discarded like a piece of garbage. She had once been the CEO of Angels Music, a prestigious children's academy, but had sold everything to pay for her mother's surgery—only for her mother to pass away anyway. He had abandoned her then, unable to cope with the burden she carried.
Now, after five years, she stood before him, dressed in the uniform of a pub worker. Her blonde hair was disheveled, a few stray strands tucked behind her ear. Despite her unkempt appearance, she was still beautiful—too beautiful, and it infuriated him.
She began collecting the empty bottles from the table, acting as though she didn't even recognize him.
He muttered a greeting, his voice thick with emotion. "Hi..."
She didn't look up. She continued with her task, unbothered, as if the years had not passed, as if they were strangers.
He clenched his fists, his words seething with disdain. "You're still a lowlife."
At that, she paused. Her eyes, no longer filled with the anger he expected, were now full of something far worse—hurt. She didn't say a word as she returned to her duties, her movements deliberate, as though she were trying to forget him.
She returned with the bill and handed it to him, her expression unreadable. "This is your bill."
Mark paid, his eyes never leaving her. He watched as she vanished out of sight, the emptiness of her departure settling over him like a cold shadow.
He left the pub, his mind swirling with confusion. As he started the car, the memories of Guinevere flooded his mind, causing his heart to race. But as he pulled out onto the road, a group of boys suddenly blocked his path, wielding strange tools.
Without hesitation, Mark got out of the car, adjusting his sleeves and preparing for a fight. But then, out of nowhere, Guinevere appeared—fighting with grace, her movements fluid and deadly. She kicked one of the boys in the chest, sending him flying back. She twisted another's arm behind his back, forcing him to the ground. With swift, calculated strikes, she took down the rest, leaving Mark stunned.
He watched in awe as the boys scrambled away, defeated. They both stood there for a moment, silent, their eyes locking in a shared understanding.
Mark finally found his voice, his tone laced with disbelief. "Why did you do that for me?"
She gave him a small, almost amused smile. "I would have done it for anyone. Besides, I was on my way home when I saw them trying to attack you."
A heavy sigh escaped Mark's lips. He couldn't help but offer, "Er... Guinevere... I could give you another chance, though."
Her laugh was light, almost mocking. "Chance for what?"
He rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Chance to date me."
She stifled her laughter, shaking her head. "I'd rather chew leaves than date the likes of you."
Mark stood frozen, unable to believe his ears. She walked away, leaving him standing there, his pride shattered. How could she reject someone with the potential to be the future Prime Minister?
And then, it hit him. Why had Guinevere shown up now, just two days after he had condemned Raymond's choice of a partner? Was his past finally catching up with him?
***
Sophia sat across from Will and Joyce at a quiet, upscale restaurant. She had expected a confrontation, an outburst of anger after everything that had happened. But instead, they were calm—unnervingly so.
Joyce spoke first, her voice gentle yet firm. "Sophia, you are every man's ideal. You're beautiful, intelligent, a skilled fighter, hardworking, and a good cook. But when it comes to finances, you have nothing."
Sophia's heart sank, but she listened quietly.
"If you want to marry my son, I'll give you two years to change that. To leave and come back as something more."
Sophia blinked, stunned. This was not what she had expected. Will nodded in agreement. "We like you, Sophia. You've earned our respect. Honestly, we didn't want Amelia because of her attitude, but she would have been a good match for Raymond politically. The truth is, society cares about status, and so do we. We embrace it."
Tears welled up in Sophia's eyes, the weight of their words pressing down on her chest. It was in this moment that she realized how deeply she had fallen for Raymond.
"If it's meant to be, I will return," she said quietly.
"And if it's not?" Joyce asked.
"If it's not, I'll never return," Sophia replied, her voice steady, though her heart was heavy.