THE FORGOTTEN WILSON

"Pour me another drink!" *Thud!* Sophia Whitmore slammed her empty glass onto the polished mahogany table. The waiter standing before her blinked, hiding his amusement. Looking at her delicate features and expensive clothes, he couldn't help but wonder: *What could possibly drive a high-society lady like her to drink herself into such a wretched state?* Not that it mattered to him. As long as her black card kept clearing the bills, he didn’t really care. Barely an hour had passed, and Sophia was completely wasted. Yet, even thoroughly intoxicated, her beauty was undeniable. It was the kind of effortless, breathtaking elegance that couldn't be hidden by messy hair or clumsy movements. Unbeknownst to her, a pair of predatory eyes had been locked on her for the past twenty minutes. A skinny man with a shaved head and dark tattoos wrapping entirely around his neck slid into the booth beside her. "Now, how can I help a beautiful damsel in distress like you?" he purred, boldly sliding a hand behind her waist. Sophia tried to look up, but her vision was a blurry, spinning mess under the heavy weight of the alcohol. Unable to comprehend what was happening, she could only nod vacuously. Seeing her compliance, a smirk played on the bald man's lips. He intended to trick her back to his place and was already pulling her out of the booth when a cold, unyielding hand clamped down on his wrist. "What the hell?!" the bald man snapped, his face instantly contorting with rage. He glared at the interloper. "Step off! She's mine. I got to her first!" "I'm sorry, but she is a human being, not some trophy you can claim," a calm, deep voice cut through the noisy bar. Through the thick fog of intoxication, Sophia felt a sudden wave of a clean, expensive masculine cologne wash over her senses. The bald man scoffed loudly, sizing up the newcomer. "And who the hell do you think you are to interfere in my business?" "I am her boyfriend," the man responded, his expression entirely unbothered. *Boyfriend...?* Sophia thought hazily. The word barely registered in her sluggish mind, but one thing she knew for certain—she didn't have one. "Boyfriend? Right," the bald man mocked, bursting into a loud laugh. His friends at a nearby table joined in, sneering openly. "What's stopping me from saying the exact same thing?" "Nothing," the calm man replied smoothly. "But if you actually knew her, you'd at least be able to tell me her name." The bald man’s laughter died instantly. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. "That's what I thought," the man said. Without waiting another second, he leaned down and effortlessly scooped Sophia up into his arms. Completely defenseless and seeking comfort, Sophia instinctively clung to his neck like a frightened child. The bald man’s face turned purple with humiliation. "Do you take me for a fool?! If you're really her boyfriend, why don't *you* tell us her name?!" The gentleman stopped. He looked down at the vulnerable woman resting against his chest and smiled faintly. "Sophia," he called out softly. "Yes..." she mumbled sleepily in response. The bald man gritted his teeth, his jaw aching from the sheer defeat as he watched them walk away. The moment they reached the quiet lobby, Benjamin let out a long, heavy sigh of relief. He glanced down at the sleeping heiress in his arms. This bar was crawling with dangerous people, and things could have gone horribly wrong if he hadn't stepped in. Fortunately, the manager had given him a quick heads-up about her identity before his shift. Sophia Whitmore was an unimaginably wealthy VIP customer. She kept a luxury suite booked at their establishment year-round just for situations exactly like this. After securing the key card from management, Benjamin brought her up to the private floor. He laid her down gently onto the plush mattress, preparing to leave. But the moment he pulled away, Sophia’s hands shot out, gripping his wrists with desperate strength. "Please... don't leave me," she sobbed, tears instantly streaming down her face. "My own father... he only sees me as a tool..." Benjamin froze. He didn't even know this woman, but the raw, unadulterated agony in her voice struck a chord deep within him. A profound sense of pity welled up in his chest. "It's okay. You're safe now. You just need to calm down," he murmured, attempting to gently pry her fingers loose. But Sophia refused to let go. "I'm so scared... I'm so alone," she whimpered, curling her body like a helpless cat and pressing her cheek tightly against his arm. *Ba-dump.* Benjamin’s heart skipped a beat. A sudden, electric jolt ran up his arm, making every hair on his body stand on end. A strange, burning heat he had never experienced before flared up in his lower abdomen. Panic setting in, he tried his absolute best to push her away, but the drunk woman seemed to possess a hidden reservoir of adrenaline. "If you leave me, I swear I'll jump out that window!" she threatened blindly. Benjamin gasped. He couldn't dismiss this as an empty threat. First, she was completely out of her mind with alcohol and entirely capable of doing something reckless. Second, she was the bar's most critical client—the manager had literally assigned him to ensure her absolute safety. If he left, she might die. But if he stayed... the overwhelming temptation might push him to do something he would regret for the rest of his life. He was trapped in a agonizing dilemma. But time ran out. Before Benjamin could make a choice, Sophia pulled him down, locking her lips tightly against his. The sharp, burning taste of whiskey mixed with the sweetness of her saliva invaded his mouth. The last thread of Benjamin's rationality snapped. Yielding entirely to the intoxicating temptation, his hands moved automatically to cup her flushed face before sliding down to grip her slender waist. That night, the quiet luxury suite was filled with the heavy, breathless sounds of their shared passion. When the first rays of dawn pierced through the curtains, Sophia’s eyes fluttered open. A splitting headache throbbed against her temples, but a deeper, visceral ache made her freeze. The reality of her tangled sheets and bare skin hit her like a moving train. In a single, horrifying second, the truth dawned on her: she had just lost her virginity. And not to a fiancé or someone she loved, but to a total stranger who hadn't even stuck around to have a proper conversation. Outside the room, the heavy door slammed shut. Benjamin collapsed onto the carpeted floor of the corridor, burying his face in his hands. His mind was a chaotic mess of guilt and panic. *What have I done?* He had taken advantage of an innocent, vulnerable woman. The crushing weight of reality settled in. He couldn't face her. He didn't know how to look her in the eyes. Fleeing was his only option. Trembling, he pulled out his phone and immediately opened a few online job portals. There was no staying here. The only solution was to resign immediately, leave the city, and start completely over where no one knew his name. "And where do you think you are coming from?" The icy, demanding voice cut through the air the exact moment Sophia stepped into the grand foyer of the Whitmore estate. Harry Whitmore stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at his daughter with a look of pure disapproval. Sophia swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes masking a whirlwind of raw emotion. "I... I went to a friend's party," she lied quietly. "You know very well that I am currently finalizing a massive marriage alliance with the Wilson family!" her father barked, his voice echoing off the marble walls. "I won't tolerate you staying out all night like a common delinquent. Do not dare spoil the family name!" A bitter, furious fire ignited in Sophia's chest. Without a word, she turned and stormed up the stairs to her room, her hands trembling with a mix of rage and heartbreak. She had been missing for an entire night, potentially in grave danger, and her own flesh and blood hadn't asked a single question about her well-being. He didn't care if she lived or died. To Harry Whitmore, his daughter wasn't a human being. She was just a business transaction.