Chapter 3

Sophia's POV

The next morning, I was woken by pounding on the door.

"Sophia! What time is it and you're still sleeping? Are you a pig?"

Ethan's irritated voice came through the door.

I glanced at my phone. 6:30 a.m.

Rubbing my throbbing temples, I opened the door. Ethan stood there with a dark expression, wearing an apron that looked completely out of place.

"Isla's hungry. She wants donuts from that place on the south side. Go get them."

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"Mr. Ford, I resigned. I didn't become your slave. If she wants food, go get it yourself or order delivery."

"Delivery takes too long! You drive. It's faster!"

Ethan said indignantly,

"You used to get up at dawn to make me oatmeal when I had stomach pain. Now you can't even buy donuts for Isla?"

I looked at this man and suddenly felt like I'd been blind all these years.

"You said it yourself. That was before."

"Sophia!"

Ethan grabbed my shoulder.

"You need to get this straight. Everything you eat, wear, and live in. Who's paying for it? What's wrong with asking you to do a little work? Don't forget, if it weren't for the Ford family back then, you'd still be fighting stray dogs for food in the orphanage!"

That sentence hit my weak spot with precision.

Debt of gratitude.

That damned debt of gratitude again.

I brushed Ethan's hand away.

"Fine. I'll go."

This was the last time.

Once I repaid this final bit, we'd be even.

I changed and left, drove two hours, waited in line for an hour, and finally got the donuts.

By the time I returned to the villa, it was 10 a.m.

Laughter filled the living room.

Isla was sitting in Ethan's lap. The two of them were sharing a tablet, laughing so hard tears were forming.

When they saw me enter, Isla immediately reined in her smile and timidly called out:

"Thank you."

I set the donuts on the table, along with a complimentary hot coffee.

Isla reached for the hot coffee first. Suddenly, as if scalded, her hand jerked.

Most of the hot coffee spilled onto the back of my hand, with the rest splashing onto the carpet.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

My hand instantly turned bright red, the searing pain piercing to the bone.

"What happened?!"

Ethan shot up immediately. But his first instinct was to grab Isla's hand.

"Are you burned?"

Isla's eyes reddened, though her fingertips weren't even slightly red.

"I'm fine... It was my fault... But Sophia made the coffee too hot. I couldn't hold it..."

What a masterful twist of the truth.

It was obviously coffee I'd bought. How could I have made it?

But Ethan didn't use his brain to think.

He turned to look at me. When he saw the red swelling on the back of my hand, his gaze froze for a moment, but anger quickly covered it.

"Sophia, you did this on purpose, didn't you? You knew Isla just had surgery and is weak, yet you made the coffee this hot and handed it to her? What are you trying to pull?"

I looked at my blistered hand, my heart ice-cold.

This was the man I'd loved for ten years.

In his eyes, my hands were made of iron. They wouldn't hurt no matter how badly they were burned.

But Isla's hands were like glass. They'd shatter at the slightest touch.

"Ethan Ford."

I looked up.

"You told me to buy the donuts and coffee. The takeout packaging is still right there. The temperature was set by the shop. As for why it spilled..."

I looked coldly at Isla.

"Ask Miss James why her hand shook so badly."

"Sophia, watch your mouth!"

Ethan exploded in rage.

"Sob sob sob... Ethan, don't blame her. It's all my fault. I'm useless..."

Isla curled up in Ethan's arms, tears streaming down her face.

Ethan's heart ached. He pointed at the mess on the floor and yelled at me:

"What are you standing there for? Hurry up and clean this! Wipe the carpet. If there's even a stain left, don't expect to eat dinner!"

I didn't move.

I looked at Ethan and smiled.

"What are you smiling at? Get moving!"

I bent down.

Ethan thought I'd given in. He smirked.

But the next second, I didn't reach for the carpet.

I picked up the coffee cup, which still had some warmth left, and flipped it over.

The remaining coffee landed precisely on Ethan's six-figure custom shirt.

And on his face.

Dead silence.

Isla's crying stopped abruptly, her mouth agape.

Ethan was completely stunned, brown coffee dripping down his prominent nose. He looked as pathetic as a drowned rat.

"Sophia!!!"

His furious roar nearly blew the roof off.

I pulled out a wet wipe and calmly cleaned my uninjured hand, my tone flat.

"Since you think I'm dirty, then nobody gets to stay clean."

"Also, I'm not cleaning the carpet. Whoever made the mess can clean it."

With that, I turned and walked away, leaving behind two spectacularly distorted faces.

Satisfying.

So satisfying.

This was the first time in three years I felt like I could breathe freely.