Chapter 2

Sophia POV

The car didn't go back to the Shaw house. It went straight to the skyscraper in Manhattan.

The rotating restaurant on the top floor had been reserved.

I stood at the entrance of the magnificent hall wearing an ill-fitting hospital gown.

Tristan sat by the window, cutting steak for Linda.

He wore a well-tailored suit, his movements refined.

Hearing footsteps, he didn't even look up.

"What are you standing there for? Come here."

His voice was cold.

I walked over.

With every step, the old injury in my knee hurt. That was the root of the problem left from kneeling in the snow all night five years ago to help him secure an investment.

"Tristan, don't be like this."

Linda laughed sweetly, feeding a piece of steak to Tristan's mouth. "Sophia just got out. She must be starving."

Tristan ate the meat, then finally turned to look at me.

His gaze scraped over me.

"You've lost weight."

He commented, "The hospital food doesn't suit your taste."

I lowered my eyes. "It's fine."

"Sit."

Tristan pointed to the seat across from him.

The waiter brought out a serving of foie gras.

The fishy smell hit my nostrils directly.

I hated eating organ meat most, even expensive foie gras, because when I was homeless as a child, I survived by scavenging rotten meat from trash cans.

Tristan knew this.

Five years ago, he would still pick out the foie gras and replace it with desserts I liked.

Now, he only wanted to watch me suffer.

"Eat." Tristan tapped the table. "Specially ordered to celebrate your release from prison."

Release from prison.

In his mind, the psychiatric hospital was a prison for me, this "corporate criminal."

I picked up the knife and fork.

My hands were shaking badly. I couldn't cut it.

Tristan let out a scoff. "What, playing pitiful? When you were stealing company data, your hands were quite steady, weren't they?"

That matter again.

I didn't explain.

I'd explained it countless times. It was useless.

I speared the entire block of foie gras and stuffed it into my mouth.

The greasiness and fishy smell exploded in my mouth. I bit down hard, didn't chew, and swallowed it whole.

My esophagus hurt from the obstruction.

"Does it taste good?" Linda asked, her eyes full of mockery.

"It's good." I picked up my water glass, gulped down a large mouthful of ice water to suppress the urge to vomit. "Thank you for treating me to all this."

The expression on Tristan's face froze for a moment.

He didn't like this dead look of mine.

The old me would have smashed plates when wronged, would have shouted loudly "I didn't do it."

Now I'd learned to put away my temper and obediently follow Tristan's instructions.

"Since you're out, don't be idle."

Tristan tossed over a room key card. "Linda's wedding dress needs some detail adjustments these days. Go help. Don't forget that you studied design too."

Studied design.

I looked at that room key card.

My hand was the one he stomped on and broke on that rainy night. I could never pick up a paintbrush again.

"Okay."

I took the room card and bowed. "If there's nothing else, I'll leave first."

I turned and left.

My back was very straight.

Tristan watched my retreating figure, his brows furrowing tighter and tighter.

"Tristan, she seems different," Linda said softly.

"She's pretending."

Tristan snorted coldly, cutting a piece of bloody steak. "This kind of ungrateful person who could sell out her family for money, she's the best at acting."

I rushed into the bathroom.

Everything I'd just swallowed came back up, all acidic water and blood streaks.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

Six more days.

As soon as I sent Linda down the wedding aisle, my mission would be complete.