Chapter 2
The next day at noon, after locking myself away in the study all morning, I finally stepped out.
Sophia was immaculately dressed, her makeup flawless, acting as if yesterday never happened. On the table, two dishes and a bowl of soup were still steaming hot.
She looked up at me, her tone extra soft, like she was walking on eggshells.
"Have something to eat first, you were up all night," Sophia said.
I glanced at the table but didn't sit down.
"Got anything going on today?" I asked.
She hesitated for a second, then nodded. "I've got a meeting with the planner this afternoon to go over the engagement party details. Do you want to join me?"
Sophia watched me carefully, her eyes searching my face, like she was trying to figure out how much she could push.
I neither refused nor accepted, merely stating, "I'm going out."
A faint sigh of relief escaped her lips.
As the elevator doors slid shut, I noticed my palms were damp—not with anger, but with the stark clarity that came when I had finally been pushed to the edge.
A vibration in my pocket drew my attention.
My assistant's text reminded me of an internal meeting that afternoon.
I shot back a quick "Proceed as usual," then flagged all the engagement stuff on my calendar, setting it apart from everything else.
It felt like I was putting that whole phase of my life under a microscope, picking apart every detail.
The meeting concluded quickly. Work rarely felt the weight of my personal troubles, and today was no exception.
As people filed out, a colleague remarked casually, "I heard your engagement party is this weekend, Mr. Foster. Congratulations."
I just gave a quick smile and didn't say anything else.
Stepping into the corridor, I caught sight of Alex near the far end.
He was dressed sharp—a crisp white shirt, dark slacks, hair perfectly styled. There was something gentle and refined about him, the picture of friendly professionalism.
If it hadn't been for what happened last night, I'd probably have just seen him as another business partner.
When he spotted me, he paused for a moment, then came over.
"Mr. Foster, long time no see," he said.
His tone was almost too natural, like nothing had ever happened between us.
I looked at him, not offering my hand. "What are you doing here?" I asked.
"Just here to meet a friend about something. Didn't expect to run into you," he said with a smile.
His smile was easy, but his eyes held a rehearsed calm, the kind that followed careful self-persuasion.
I gave a slight nod and turned to leave.
But he took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Sophia told you about last night, didn't she?"
I stopped. The corridor hummed with passing staff, yet he'd chosen this moment perfectly.
"She's pretty upset. I was thinking about dropping by to see her today, but I didn't want you to get the wrong idea," he said.
His words were neatly constructed—shifting the unease onto her while painting himself as the considerate one.
I turned to face him fully. "What exactly are you trying to say?"
He hesitated, then sighed softly. "Things have reached this point. None of us wants a messy scene.
"With the engagement party so close, everyone in your circle is watching. If word got out, it wouldn't do any of us any good."
I understood then. This wasn't an explanation; it was a negotiation.
"So?" I pressed.
"A quiet resolution is in everyone's best interest. We can handle the matter of the child privately," he said smoothly.
"How?" I shot back.
His smile faltered for a second. "You and Sophia have been together for years. She truly loves you. As long as there's no public drama, this will fade in time."
I almost laughed. The "everyone" he kept mentioning never included me.
"Alex. Where do you stand in all this?" I said, holding his gaze.
A flicker of tension crossed his face before he regained his composure. "I just hope things don't spiral."
I said nothing more and walked away.
He just stood there, didn't come after me.
But I could almost feel his assumption hanging in the air—that I would tolerate this, that my career, my reputation, my image would keep me silent.
That afternoon, I visited the event planner's office.
Sophia was already there, reviewing seating charts with the coordinator.
Her expression brightened when I entered.
"You're here," she said, rising with a hint of eagerness.
The planner, knowing when to step back, discreetly moved aside.
Sophia handed me the itinerary, speaking quickly.
"See, I moved your parents' seats closer to the front, and your colleagues from the company are all near the main table for easier networking," she explained.
She was all business, acting as if nothing had happened last night.
I flipped through the pages, offering no comment.
Suddenly, Sophia lowered her voice. "Henry, don't overthink what I said last night. I was just panicking."
My eyes met hers. "Which part?"
The question seemed to unsettle her.
"About the baby... and my sister. I was just talking nonsense. I didn't really mean it—I was just emotional," she said, forcing a smile.
"Oh, really?" I closed the schedule. "Funny, you said it so smoothly—almost like you'd planned it."
Her face went pale for a moment, but she quickly pulled herself together.
"I just wanted to leave us a way out. You're smart and always keep your cool. You wouldn't just toss out three years over one mistake, right?" she said.
There it was again. The logic that my reason meant concession, my strength meant silence.
"So the engagement party's still on?" I asked.
She nodded right away. "Of course. Everyone already knows about it. Changing anything now would just be a hassle," she said.
"Is Alex coming?" I asked.
Sophia hesitated, instinctively replying, "He won't—"
Mid-word, she stopped herself, suddenly realizing something was off.
I held her gaze, needing no further answer.
The truth was already plain to see.
Outside, the sky had turned to slate. Sophia followed me to the door, lingering as if words remained unsaid.
"Are you coming home tonight?" she asked.
"Depends," I replied. I offered nothing more.
Once I got in the car, I called my assistant, Barry Allen.
"Put all the external collaborations Sophia's been handling on hold for now," I said.
Barry paused, surprised. "All of them?" he asked.
"All of them. Starting now," I replied.
Just a quick "Got it" on the other end—no follow-up questions.
I leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes for a moment.
Agreeing to composure didn't mean inaction.
Some lines, once crossed, demanded a response.
When I got home that night, Sophia wasn't there.
There was a note on the table saying she'd gone out to dinner with Emily.
I stared at the note for a few seconds, then tossed it straight into the trash.
After my shower, I got a call from an unknown number.
As soon as I picked up, the caller spoke first.
"Mr. Foster, it's Alex," he said.
His voice sounded more urgent than it had earlier.
"There's something I want to discuss with you, just us—one-on-one," Alex said.
I stepped out onto the balcony and lit a cigarette.
"Didn't we already have this conversation in the hallway?" I said.
He went quiet for a moment on the other end.
"That wasn't official. I think it's time we lay everything out on the table," he replied.
I exhaled a cloud of smoke. "So, how do you want to start this?" I asked.
"At least let's lay it all out before the engagement party. Let's make sure everyone keeps their dignity."
Dignity? Coming from him, that word was especially ironic.
"I'm busy tomorrow," I said.
"What about tonight?" Alex pressed.
I watched the streetlights outside come on, one after another.
"Not tonight. Go talk to Sophia," I replied.
I could hear the urgency in his voice. "She's not in a good place right now. I don't want to make things worse for her," Alex said.
I gave a dry laugh. "That's your problem."
With that, I hung up.
The night air held a chill, and with it, a clarity.
Their anxiety wasn't born of guilt, but of my unexpected silence.
On the eve of the engagement, the world waited for my move.
But in the quiet, the first cut was already made.