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Chapter 4
Ethan Carter looked at me like I was something disposable—cold, detached, completely devoid of emotion.
"Don't be ridiculous, Sophia."
He flicked a diamond ring at me. It caught the sunlight like a blade.
"Without the Carters, you couldn't even afford that."
The ring rolled to a stop near my feet, and for a split second, I saw him again on one knee—three years ago, whispering promises I thought he meant.
Now, he just adjusted his cuff links with indifference.
"Victoria's moving in."
"She's fragile. Be kind."
Right on cue, Victoria Bennett emerged from the shadows, eyes rimmed in red like she'd just been crying.
"Ethan... maybe I should go. Miss Williams doesn't seem happy..."
"She doesn't have the right to be."
He pulled her in and kissed her—right in front of me.
Then came the sound of small footsteps. Oliver Carter stood at the top of the stairs, clutching the sweater I had knit him.
"Dad!"
He bolted down the steps, beaming.
"Aunt Victoria said she's gonna teach me piano!"
I knelt down to touch his hair, but he yanked away like I was something filthy.
"Don't touch me!" he snapped, his eyes full of hate.
"You killed Mom!"
The world went silent.
Ten years ago, I had carried him out of an orphanage in the middle of a snowstorm. He'd been burning with fever, crying, calling me Mom as he clung to my sleeve.
"Oliver..." I said quietly.
"Who told you that?"
He puffed up his chest.
"Aunt Victoria did! She said you only married Dad for money, and you made Mom sad—"
Laughter drifted down the hall. Victoria's breathy giggles tangled with Ethan's low voice behind the study door.
I crouched down and picked up the ring, running my thumb over the tiny engraved date—our wedding anniversary.
"Miss Williams, your ride's here."
The deep growl of an engine echoed through the gates as a motorcycle pulled up and screeched to a stop.
The rider took off his helmet, revealing a shock of fire-red hair.
Oliver lunged forward, grabbing my bag with both hands.
"You're leaving?"
His cheeks were red, just like they were when he was five and sobbing after a flu shot—right before he called me Mom for the first time.
I gently pried his fingers off the strap.
"One day, you'll understand," I said softly.
"But by then… we probably won't see each other again."
As the bike roared down the road, the Carter Group sign in the mirror got smaller and smaller.
The sunlight burned, just like the day I walked into that mansion in a white dress ten years ago.
Bang—
A plastic bullet zipped past my ear.
In the side mirror, I saw Oliver standing there with his toy gun, tears streaming down his face.
I twisted the throttle.
The wind drowned out his cries.