Chapter 5

Everyone in the café was staring at us.

Charlotte was clearly loving all the attention.

She raised her voice louder. "Sophie, you'd better know your place. Take the money and get out of here. Stop embarrassing yourself.

"I've seen your type before, thinking you can hook up with a rich guy and suddenly turn into royalty? Keep dreaming.

"You'll always be a poor nobody, like your mom. Like mother, like daughter. Your mom worked her whole life at a factory, and all you're ever good for is being some rich man's toy."

I looked at her face and couldn't help but find it amusing.

This woman, the Sinclair family's heiress, a graduate of a top university in Enginoria, Andrew's fiancée, was actually jealous of me.

I saw a fire smoldering in her gaze. It was not disgust or contempt. It was jealousy, pure, naked jealousy.

What was she jealous of? Was she jealous of a college girl being kept as a sugar baby?

Maybe it was because she knew that, though Andrew always called me his plaything and kept claiming he'd marry her, he never cut me off in the past three years.

I was the one he took to every business dinner, the one who tagged along on every trip, the one he called to pick him up after midnight when he was wasted.

Charlotte had the title of "Mrs. Langley," but the one who was by Andrew's side every day was me. That drove her crazy.

So, when I was about to leave, she rushed to humiliate me in the nastiest way she could, trying to push me down to prove she was superior.

Once I realized that, I wasn't angry anymore. I felt a little sorry for her.

I was sorry for a privileged heiress to resort to such petty tactics to prove her worth. That was pathetic.

"Ms. Sinclair," I said as I stood up, keeping my voice steady. "Are you finished? If you are, I'm out of here."

Her expression shifted, and she suddenly jumped to her feet. "Stop right there."

Then she did something I never saw coming. She snatched up her coffee cup and splashed the half-full contents right in my face. Warm liquid trickled down my forehead.

The café went dead silent.

Everyone stared, eyes wide, watching the scene unfold.

Charlotte stood there, her chest heaving, still clutching the empty coffee cup.

Her eyes gleamed with a twisted, almost manic delight, and her lips curled into a cruel smile. "I do this for Andrew."

Her voice was so low that only I could hear it. "Consider this my thanks for taking care of my fiancé these past three years. Now, you and he are done."

"Ms. Sinclair," I said, pulling out a tissue and slowly wiping the coffee off my face. My voice was so calm that I was surprised. "Are you done splashing?"

I said, "If you're done, I've got something to say.

"First, you're right. I'm a poor student. My mom really does work at a factory, earning 1 thousand dollars a month.

"But she put me through college and gave me a shot at a bigger world. I don't see anything to be ashamed of.

"Second, you say I'm Andrew's plaything, used whenever he wants. But neither you nor I gets to decide that.

"What I do know is this: for the past three years, every time he went somewhere important, I was the one by his side, not you."

Charlotte's face darkened instantly. "You..."

"Third," I cut her off, not giving her a chance to speak, "I'm not going to retaliate because you threw coffee at me. It's not because I'm afraid of you. It's not worth it.

"You had a hundred ways to prove you're better than me, but you picked the lamest one. Ms. Sinclair, is that what they teach you at that elite university in Enginoria?

"Thanks for the coffee, Charlotte. But next time you want to offer me a drink, let me hold the cup myself. I prefer to serve myself."

With that, I turned and strode out of the café.

Charlotte shouted after me, her voice frantic, "Sophie, stop right there."

I didn't look back.

The next day, I dragged two suitcases to the airport.

I checked in, dropped off my bags, and breezed through security and customs. Everything went off without a hitch.

I sat in the departure lounge, gazing at the massive planes outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, and a strange sense of calm washed over me.

My phone buzzed. It was a WhatsApp message from Andrew: [Did you move out?]

I stared at his message for a moment, then let it sit without replying.

My phone buzzed again: [Sophie, I'm asking you a question.]

Still, I didn't reply.

By the time his third message popped up, I'd already switched off my phone, and right then, the boarding call came over the speakers.

I stood up, grabbed my carry-on, and headed for the gate.

As the plane lifted off, I stared out the window, watching Capitavia's countless city lights shrink and disappear beneath the clouds.