Chapter 3

Sophie and I stared each other down in silence.

The livestream didn't shut off because of the confrontation. If anything, the ratings shot up.

The production team wasn't about to waste such drama, though I couldn't have cared less.

Sophie shrank into Matthew's arms like she was under attack, her eyes brimming with wounded innocence.

Matthew wrapped a protective arm around her, glaring at me without hesitation. "Lydia, I know you don't want a divorce, but did you really have to hurt Blake just to frame Sophie?

"And about the divorce papers? I already wrote them clearly. You'll get every asset that belongs to you, plus your money, untouched. On top of that, I even promised you 30 thousand dollars in alimony."

I let out a sharp laugh.

So now, somehow, I had become the desperate one chasing after Matthew, using Blake as leverage to keep him. However, I was ending up the one filing for divorce.

Matthew's words fueled the confidence of those diehard shippers in the livestream chat.

[I knew it. Mr. Carter was obviously blackmailed. She's even using the kid to manipulate him. Mr. Carter, you should take her to court and finalize the divorce already. I'll always stand with you and Sophie.]

[Honestly, this agent is prettier than Sophie. Way prettier.]

[She probably had plastic surgery. Sophie's beauty is natural. She's got money, looks, and Mr. Carter's love. Of course, this agent is jealous.]

I glanced down at my phone. Johnny Lewis had just sent me the rental agreement for the island villa. Sophie Moore had only booked it for one day, just long enough for the crew to finish shooting.

I shifted my gaze to the sofa and spoke coolly. "Ms. Moore, did you happen to read the rental terms carefully? According to the contract, any irreparable damage to the furniture must be compensated in full."

Sophie followed my eyes to the scratch on the sofa, her face going pale.

Not long ago, she had been horsing around with Blake, and her long nails had ripped a gash in the Italian leather.

I had to say that she was really strong. She actually managed to tear the leather of the imported sofa I bought.

I curved my lips into a smile and turned toward the camera. "Can one of you lovely viewers let Ms. Moore know how much that sofa costs?"

The internet didn't disappoint. Within seconds, someone had identified it as the work of a famous designer.

[Twenty thousand dollars, shipping included,] the comment read, complete with a screenshot of the official price list.

Sophie tried to bluff it off. "So what? It's my sofa. I don't owe anyone compensation."

I held up my phone, and the rental contract was displayed on the screen. "Do you want me to show this to the viewers?"

Her composure cracked instantly. She rushed to stop me. "Fine. It's just twenty thousand dollars. I'll pay for it."

I pulled out my bank account number. "Transfer it directly to me. After all, the whole island is mine. It'll save us both some trouble."

The audience went wild.

[No wonder she knew exactly where the allergy meds were. She owns the entire island.]

Earlier, when I had run upstairs to fetch Blake's medication, the cameras had already cut to me. Now, the pieces clicked together for everyone.

[She said her daddy gave her this villa? Please. Real rich women don't act that fake.]

Sophie panicked, ordering the crew to shut down the livestream. She shot me a venomous glare before rushing off with Matthew to catch the next boat.

Just before leaving, Matthew gave me one last look, one loaded with unspoken meaning.

And then the villa fell silent.

Blake's voice piped up suddenly beside me. "Mom, where did Dad and Ms. Moore go?"

"They left," I told him.

Blake threw a tantrum on the spot. "I want Ms. Moore."

He kicked me hard in the leg with his little foot. "You're a bad mom. You drove Ms. Moore away. Bad mom."

I crouched down, meeting his eyes squarely. My seriousness startled him, and he quieted immediately.

"If one day your dad and I get divorced," I asked softly, "would you want to live with me, or with him?"

Blake hesitated only for a moment. "If I live with Dad, does that mean Ms. Moore will be my mom?"

"Maybe," I said.

His face lit up. "Then I want to live with Dad."