Billionaire's Redemption: Forced Love

The St Regis Hotel’s grand ballroom twinkled under the bright light from the crystal chandeliers, which sparkled off the marble floors — and the glamorous champagne flutes clutched by the city’s elite. The charity gala was an annual affair, a star-studded ironically-disguised opportunity for the bizarré to socialize and stroke their egos. Fourth of those stood Sophia Lane, at the back of the room, understated fact but magnetic. Sophia was standing sipping champagne and lightly tracing the edge of her glass with her fingers, a shapely black gown drifting down to the floor and perfectly matching the curve of her body, describing figure eight after figure eight. Her expression was calm, even impassive, as she studied the room as if on a catwalk. Ten years had transformed her from the bright-eyed girl she used to be into somebody who drew glances without effort. She was a designer on the ascent in the world of fashion whose work loomed large for its brutal simplicity, and tonight she was here as both guest and voiceless observer. There were sounds of chatter and laughter, but no Sophia. She had learned how to keep her head down and smile and wear this mask of calm while being out at those functions, where most of the time she felt like she was an outsider looking in. The bubbles tickling her tongue, she took a sip of her champagne and allowed herself a moment of calm detachment. A ripple of attention spread through the crowd, faint but decisive, like a wave rolling down the shore. Sophia's gazes move with the eyes of the crowd., and there he was. Ethan Carter. He stopped at the entrance, his manner casual but taking up space in the room. He was dressed for the part in a tailored black suit that hung just right on his broad shoulders and lean frame, exuding a chilling authority. His strong jaw and deep green eyes were as breathtaking as ever, but there was an edge to him now, an aloofness that’d never been there before. He was no longer the boy she had known, but a powerful man who had built an empire on ruthlessness and control. Sophia froze and gripped the glass, her fingers white. The room plunged into deafening silence, while the pounding of her heart reverberated in her ears. It had been years since she’d last seen him — not since the day she walked out of his life with a cold finality that had shattered her into pieces. She hadn’t been that woman for him for a long time, and she felt like she’d built herself up piece by piece since, but seeing him now was a c***k in the foundation she’d worked so hard to cement. Their eyes met. But it was just a second, and that was enough. His eyes were inscrutable, the look of an indifference that gave away nothing. Not a glimmer of recognition, not a glimmer of their shared history. He didn’t know her, didn’t want to know her, both indifferent to and pleased by the anger and hatred she faced from a stranger — and that indifference cut deeper than any words. Sophia forced herself to look away, her chest suddenly tight. She took another sip of champagne, feel the taste turn suddenly sour in her mouth. But she could not tell herself it didn’t matter, that he meant nothing to her anymore, just a specter from a life she had moved on from. But the force of his presence remained, a taut, invisible wire pulling at her poise. Ethan didn't approach her. He traversed the room like someone entitled to be there, bestowing clipped words on the guests, his countenance never departing its cool detachment. Sophia chased him with her eyes, her heart knotted with emotions she’d refuse to name. The rest of the night is a blur. Sophia mingled with the other guests, her smile inexhaustible, her laugh probing. She was a master of concealed scars. But inside, she was going about a mile a minute, revisiting that moment of eye contact, those few seconds of real eye contact, and the way that his gaze had scored against her without her permission. Over the course of the gala, Sophia felt the burden on her shoulders, her facade slowly starting to c***k. She walked to the exit, her heels lightly clicking against the marble floor. And as she started to walk into the cool night air, she looked back one final time. Ethan was nowhere in sight. It was a relief — and it was short-lived because it turned into a hollow pain that she could not explain. Outside the car, the twinkling of the city lights faded as she drove. Back in the ballroom, Ethan stared out the window, his hands in his pockets, his face unreadable. He had seen her go, his chest constricted with something he wouldn’t even name. Ten years hadn’t erased her from his mind, and now that he’d seen her again, the memories he’d tried to bury sprang back. He turned from the window, working his jaw. She was a distraction he could not afford, a weakness he could not indulge. But her memory lingered as he walked on, the specter he could not shake.