Sophia’s feet hit the exclusive path to the private suites with the force of a battering ram. She wasn’t merely running away; she was fleeing a volcanic eruption of humiliation, fury, and a terrifying, unacknowledged jealousy that threatened to consume her.
The private corridor was quiet and hushed, the path reserved only for owners, investors, and VIPs. It was lined with private suites and impeccably manicured landscaping, a tunnel of expensive calm that directly contrasted the hurricane inside her chest.
How dare he? He had looked at her like she was an annoyance, then implied her only issue was a lack of s*x, and now he was flaunting his new, grinding companion minutes after Matthew told her to be civil.
As she rounded a bend, the ambient sound shifted. The thumping bass from Elysium
