Chapter 31

The rustling trees swayed as summer night winds brushed past Sophia Laurent's cheeks, carrying the hum of cicadas.

She gave a slight nod. "Alright."

Westmount Villa felt like a thermal spring to her. Though it couldn't fill the void of her childhood, it had cracked open the ice encasing her heart.

Since returning to the Lowell family, she'd been like a lone wolf in foreign territory.

They'd forced her into Emily Lowell's school. The faculty and students there were already drenched in Emily's tears, making Sophia the target of collective hostility.

In everyone's eyes, she was the vicious true heiress who'd stolen the nest, daily tormenting the kind-hearted impostor.

University finally freed her from Emily's shadow, but left her unable to form close bonds.

Apart from the Lowells, Ethan Winston had once been her most familiar presence.

She'd imagined spending her life with him.

Now it seemed nothing but a fool's dream.

Back at the villa, the invitation for "We Are Singers" arrived as promised.

The meeting was set at an exclusive garden restaurant in the suburbs, its membership-only policy making it a discreet gathering spot for industry insiders.

The next day, Sophia appeared at the restaurant entrance in a blue shirt-dress and white sneakers.

She didn't announce her reservation, walking straight inside.

"Sophia?"

That familiar voice made her pause.

Turning, she met Ethan's handsome features and Isabella Evans clinging to his arm.

Sophia's gaze cooled as she looked away.

"Sophia Laurent!" Ethan's voice turned icy.

Isabella's smile faltered briefly before recovering. "What a coincidence. Shall we dine together?"

Her chin lifted, eyes glinting with concealed disdain.

She'd seen this ploy countless times.

Wasn't this how Sophia had climbed into Ethan's bed?

Too bad the man belonged to her now.

"Pass." Sophia's lips curled slightly. "I don't share tables with trash."

Isabella's face twisted. "Have you lost your mind?"

Sophia strode toward the private room without looking back.

Ethan watched her retreating figure, memorizing the room's name.

As he motioned to his assistant, Isabella remarked pointedly: "Isn't that Lucas Sheridan? The director of 'We Are Singers'?"

Her insinuation hung in the air. "Even interns fight tooth and nail to get into that show."