William hung up without waiting for her response.

After a nap, Sophia’s fever finally broke. She hailed a cab and made her way to William’s house.

When she arrived, she tried to unlock the door with her fingerprint, but a mechanical voice coldly informed her: “Sorry, your fingerprint is no longer valid.”

Sophia let out a bitter laugh. ‘Of course. William has erased me from his life. Cold and heartless, as always.’

Pulling her coat tighter against the chilly night air, she sat down on the front steps to wait. The wind was biting, and she shivered.

When William pulled up in his car, he saw her sitting there, huddled like a stray dog. For a moment, something stirred inside him. It reminded him of how she used to be, years ago, before everything changed.

His mood shifted unexpectedly. He walked over to her, his voice softer than usual. “How long have you been here?”

“Since seven forty,” Sophia replied calmly, without a hint of anger. Her tone was flat, almost as if nothing could touch her anymore.

It was a stark contrast to five years ago. Back then, she was like a naive little fool—sometimes even charming in her innocence. But now, she was like a robot, reacting to nothing, and it irritated him.

Louis had violated her, yet she’d shown no emotion. William had pushed her to her limits, and still, no complaints. No tears. No fight. It was all so… dull.

Feeling his frustration rising, William walked past her, heading toward the door.

Sophia quietly followed him.

She kept her head down and didn’t notice when William suddenly stopped in front of her. She walked right into his back, her soft chest colliding with his broad frame.

“Sorry, Mr. Brown. I wasn’t paying attention,” she muttered.

William turned around, a wicked thought flashing through his mind. ‘Maybe I can break through that icy facade. Maybe I can finally get a reaction.’

Once inside, he wasted no time. He backed her up against the door, trapping her there with his body. Sophia barely had time to register what was happening.

His hands, knowing every inch of her, slipped under her skirt with practiced ease.

“Came back to pick up your things, huh?” His voice was low and mocking. “So eager to cut ties with me, to run as far away as you can?”

Sophia didn’t flinch. She just stood there, silent, accepting whatever he threw at her.

William laughed suddenly, the sound cold and sharp. “No matter what I do, that face of yours never changes, does it?”

He pushed her skirt up to her waist, his fingers moving with intent.

That’s when Sophia finally reacted. Struggling against him, she tried to pull away, but William knew exactly how to humiliate her, how to make her feel powerless.

Her strength was no match for his. She wriggled and fought, but he wouldn’t let her go.

As cold air hit her exposed skin, she felt a wave of shame wash over her. “Mr. Brown, please… don’t do this. I don’t want—”

“Don’t want?” William’s voice was icy. “What is it? You didn’t mind when Louis had you, but now you don’t want me to touch you?”

He buried his head in the crook of her neck, kissing her skin as if he owned her.

“Or maybe now that you’ve resigned, you think you can really be done with me?” he taunted.

Sophia’s voice was shaky but firm. “You have so many other women. Why can’t you just leave me alone? You could have any lover you want—there are plenty of women throwing themselves at you. Why do you insist on humiliating me?”

William’s hands grew rougher, his laugh dark and amused. “Because none of them taste as good as you.”

Sophia pushed at him, desperate. “Mr. Brown!”

But William was relentless. In one swift movement, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her toward the bed.

She landed on the mattress with a thud, her head spinning, her thoughts a jumbled mess. She tried to sit up, but he was already there, pushing her back down.

Slowly, deliberately, William unbuttoned his shirt and pulled off his belt, his gaze never leaving her. His presence was overwhelming, his body a mix of strength and raw masculinity.

He kneeled on the edge of the bed, his bare chest exposed, casting a shadow over her. He was in control, and they both knew it.

With practiced ease, he yanked at her collar, exposing her skin to the cool air. His lips followed, cold and possessive, pressing against her breasts.