A cup of coffee

"Is the offer for the coffee date still valid?"

The voice on the other end was familiar—yet unfamiliar at the same time.

Sara picked up her basket while holding the phone to her ear, making her way toward the exit. A frown appeared between her brows. "Who—" she started, before realization struck.

"Oh! Yes! Yes, I remember!" She exhaled a relieved breath, shaking off the momentary confusion.

"I thought you'd forgotten me." Elijah let out a low chuckle.

Sara clenched her teeth as memories of that day resurfaced, briefly souring her mood. Ugh.

"Of course not," she said quickly, forcing a light tone. "I was just busy with things, so it slipped my mind for a moment. But I remember now—I'll definitely treat you to coffee."

"That sounds great. I can't wait to meet the gorgeous Miss Sara," Elijah teased, his voice carrying a flirtatious lilt. "How does tomorrow sound?"

"Tomorrow—I have a d—" Sara paused mid-sentence. Her brain clicked into gear.

This was perfect. The best excuse to dodge the dreadful blind date her mother had set up for her. If she told her mother she already had someone she was seeing, maybe—just maybe—she'd stop introducing her to random men.

"Tomorrow at six works for me," she said smoothly.

"Sounds like a deal."

Elijah chuckled, his fingers tapping against the dark wooden desk before him. A beautiful smile spread across his face, lighting up the room. He set down his phone and his secretary watching him with confusion as he held. out the file in his hand for him. "A new scape goat?" he said very plainly.

Elijah gave his secretary a brief glance before clicking his tongue and pulling a file toward him.

"No, just someone I found a little interesting," he said, his tone light, almost careless. "Let's see if she stays interesting after tomorrow's date. If not… well, that would be disappointing."

He flipped the file open, his eyes scanning the neatly printed pages. His secretary, long numb to his boss's weekly string of casual flings, barely reacted. He only asked to save himself the eventual cleanup that always followed.

"It's strange Augustine hasn't reacted to this yet," Elijah mused, chuckling softly as he reviewed the signed deal with SD Constructions—one that had cost Augustine massive losses.

"The guy's losing his touch." His voice held a note of disappointment as he signed the last page with a flourish.

Sofia clenched the edge of the car door, her eyes shut tight, as if sealing in the rage that threatened to spill.

Her expression, as always, remained composed—elegant, unshaken. She wore a stunning bodycon dress, jeweled embroidery glittering under the sunlight, every gem meticulously sewn into the fabric. Golden hoops dangled from her ears, and her sleek auburn hair—so much like her mother's, but styled with far more grace—was twisted into a smooth bun.

In her other hand, she still clutched the file the doctor had given her. She hadn't even had the chance to open it. Her mother had called her home, demanding an urgent visit with no room for protest.

"Madam, is everything okay? Should I drive you back to the hospital?" her driver asked, confused by her long pause.

Sofia slowly opened her eyes and gave him a brief, guarded glance. "Don't tell anyone about the hospital," she said coolly, releasing her grip on the door.

She ascended the marble steps in her towering heels, each step sharp and deliberate. The ornate wooden doors parted to reveal a burst of chaotic color—an over-decorated living room, filled with everything too much: florals, textures, glimmering trinkets.

At the center of it all, like some glittering queen bee, sat her mother.

Rose.

Perched on a floral sofa like it was her throne. Drenched in jewelry that clashed louder than her personality. Each finger wore rings with at least three stones. Four or five bangles per wrist clinked against an iced-out Rolex, and an aggressively large pearl necklace draped down her chest in six heavy layers. Huge teardrop earrings swayed with every tilt of her over-permed head. Her face was a map of surgical enhancements, her lips painted a jarring shade of neon pink, and her eyes shadowed in thick, glittery makeup.

The second her gaze landed on Sofia, her expression twisted with displeasure. Her brows creased sharply as she rose to her feet.

"Mother, you ca—"SLAP.

The blow landed fast and hard, the sound echoing across the ornate room.

Sofia's face whipped to the side, her earring flying off, her bun unraveling as a few strands of hair fell loose.

Her eyes widened. One hand flew to her stinging cheek. A single tear slipped free, uninvited, as her ear began to ring.

"You good-for-nothing brat!"

Sofia's mouth opened, a protest poised on the edge of her tongue—but no sound came out. Her lips trembled, frozen mid-syllable, her voice caught somewhere deep in her throat.

"How many times have I told you to get pregnant again?!" Rose's voice sliced through the room like glass against skin. "How could you miss that opportunity?! Do you even understand the state our company is in?! Your father is drowning in losses—and you, you can't even charm your own husband into giving you another child!"

She grabbed Sofia's arm, her nails digging in as she yanked her closer, her face twisted with fury.

"I gave you one simple instruction—just one! Sleep with that bastard and give us a child, and what do you do?" Her voice cracked with rage. "You let that good-for-nothing daughter of yours get lost, ruining everything! You destroyed my plan!"

Sofia couldn't breathe. Her throat felt tight, as though a rope had been cinched around it. She stared at her mother with a blank, hollow gaze—her mind not entirely present. "How hard is to throw yourself at him? he is a man he will accept any woman who is naked and willing to sleep with him!"

Every word that spilled from Rose's mouth was too loud, too sharp, too cruel. Sofia flinched with each syllable, her pulse thudding painfully in her ears.

Her cheek still burned from the slap, and now the ache was spreading—hot, thudding pain radiating outward, syncing with the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat.

But she said nothing.Not a word.

"Hear me closely this time." Rose's voice was laced with venom, each word hurled like a dagger. "Bring me the money I asked for—or I'll get it my own way!"

Her anger wasn't just simmering—it was a wildfire, relentless and consuming.

"You have one week," she hissed, stepping closer, her breath hot and bitter. "One week—or I'll get my money by selling that daughter of yours."

She shoved Sofia away with cruel force, her expensive jewelry jingling as she turned her back, walking away like nothing had just happened—as if she hadn't just broken her own daughter into pieces.

Sofia's knees buckled. She collapsed to the cold marble floor, her reflection staring back at her through the pristine surface—distorted, trembling.

"I'll get my money by selling that daughter of yours…"

The words echoed in her mind like a curse, repeating, haunting.

Her chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow breaths. Her hands slowly clenched into fists, nails digging into her skin. Her jaw locked tight, teeth grinding with a fury that felt unfamiliar—dangerous.