Chapter 3

An hour later, I got a call from Sophia.

She was furious, her voice practically roaring. "Liam, what the hell are you trying to do?! Mr. Thompson not only publicly humiliated Owen, calling him a kept man, a boy toy who slept his way to the top! He also said Sterling Group owes its existence to you, claiming I'm taking advantage of your recovery to run off with other men, that I'm ungrateful and disloyal! You put him up to this, didn't you?!"

I chuckled softly. "Sophia, I can't control what people think or say. If there's truth to it, others will see it for themselves."

"Owen was too humiliated to stay, and the deal fell through. Happy now?"

"Ecstatic. You both got exactly what you deserved!"

After hanging up, the rage in my chest finally began to cool. Shortly after, Mark, my assistant, texted me with an update. Owen's humiliation had spread through the entire company. When he returned, colleagues openly pointed and whispered about him. Some even confronted him, calling him arrogant, manipulative, and talentless, claiming he'd only gotten ahead through dirty tricks.

Everything on his desk had been dumped in the trash. He screamed, hoarsely protesting that he wasn't that kind of person, begging them not to treat him like this. But no one in the company was listening. Who would stick their neck out for an intern against the Vice President? Everyone was ready to kick him while he was down.

I'd seen this kind of thing countless times. Owen was just getting what he deserved. A mere intern with no background, no real talent, thinking he could skyrocket to the top just because Sophia gave him a little attention? What a joke!

Humiliated and enraged, Owen submitted his resignation. Since he hadn't even been officially onboarded, HR approved it without a second thought, practically instantly. Owen had brought this entirely upon himself. Who told him to be so arrogant, coveting a position—and a woman—that weren't his?

Sophia finally managed to appease the Thompson Group after their disastrous meeting. But when she returned to the office, only to find Owen gone for good, her face went utterly black.

When she finally came home that evening, I was putting Leo to bed. The little guy's face was so chubby, his nose and eyes exactly like Sophia's. She stood in the nursery doorway, her expression terrifyingly grim, yet she deliberately kept her voice low.

"Owen did nothing wrong! He's just a hardworking kid, and now, because of you, he's lost his job and his reputation is ruined!" Her voice was a hiss. "Liam, you need to rein in your spoiled brat tantrums!"

I silenced her with a look, gently placing my sleeping son back in his crib. After closing the door behind us, I finally spoke. "Sophia, I'll say this one last time: I did not instigate Owen's humiliation or his resignation."

Even though I told myself it didn't matter, the fire and distrust in Sophia's eyes still made my heart ache. "Honestly, Sophia, ask yourself: how many rules have you broken for Owen? Your tacit approval, your indulgence, that's what made him think he could get away with anything."

"Owen and I are completely innocent!" Sophia shot back, agitated.

"Innocent? Would you give him something that originally belonged to me? Would you let him move into your office? Don't forget, the last assistant wasn't even allowed to bring a temporary chair into your office for a meeting! But now, for Owen, you're constantly breaking your own rules, even glaring at your own husband for him!"

I stepped closer to Sophia, towering over her, my voice low and deliberate. "Sophia, I admit, I did love you. Otherwise, I wouldn't have married you, wouldn't have given you my child. But you also know, I, Liam Blackwood, don't tolerate a single speck of dust in my eye. I won't stand for even a hint of betrayal or deceit." My gaze hardened. "If you dare cross that line, even if it's just emotional wandering or ambiguity, I won't hesitate to find a new mother for my son!"

Sophia's face was ashen. She spun around and stalked off to the guest bedroom. But I knew. This argument, for all its heat, was over. She'd go to the guest room, calm down, and by tomorrow, we'd make up and move on. That was the unspoken agreement we'd had for five years, the way we handled our marriage. Except, all our previous arguments had been about business or family. This—this quarrel over romantic feelings—this was a first.

And it would be the last.