Zachary and Claraâs voices were heard outside the door. It was difficult to hear what they were talking about, but from their tones, Clara, who was usually playful and lively, sounded somewhat angry.
Sophia opened up her palm and looked at the thin calluses on it. She smiled, yet her smile did not reach her eyes.
At five-thirty in the afternoon, Sterling arrived with a bunch of food that she liked to eat. "I went to several stores and queued up all afternoon just to buy them. Eat more."
He set everything on the table, handed her a pair of chopsticks and a disposable lunch box before picking up a bottle of liquor and setting it on the table.
"Why do you suddenly want to drink?" She asked because Sterling did not like to drink due to the unpleasant taste.
Sterling suppressed the irritability in his heart, poured a small glass of white wine, and drained it in a gulp. "I just feel like drinking."
He was not wearing a suit nor a tie, even two of his blouse buttons were undone, revealing his collarbone and chest muscles.
His movements when he drank opened up his blouse slightly, revealing an injury resulting from a nail that scratched all the way from his lower right neck to his collarbone.
"What's with the neck injury?" Sophia asked, putting down her chopsticks and frowning slightly.
Sterling was taken aback and tugged at his collar hastily. He then quickly put on an ambiguous and mischievous look on his face. "Must you ask something that canât be any obvious? Can't you guess now that youâre an adult yourself?"
"Sterling." Sophia stared straight into his eyes. The depth of her eyes was all dark and serene.
Sterling scratched his neck and murmured, "Why have you completely changed after two years of being in prison?"
"Don't change the subject," Sophia said.
Sterling was choking from anger. He had wanted to talk to someone about it since a long time ago.
He smacked his chopsticks on the table and reiterated what happened today by garbling up the story and adding details in it.
In the end, he held his breath, scrunched up his face, downed a glass of white wine, and roared with a suppressed voice, "I actually thought that Dad was going to seek justice for you. F*ck, Iâm so mad!"
"Leah was right," Sophia mumbled. There was a flash of overwhelming sadness in her eyes.
Sterling was puzzled by her response. "Huh?"
"Youâre confused as to why Dad has turned hostile so suddenly, no?" Sophia let out a self-deprecating grin and continued. "Because Leahâs right. The things Dad said contained elements of anger from being constantly oppressed all this while, but more of it is to let the Jones know that it hasnât been easy for him either."
That was why Leah used the theme park project to quell Dad's anger... Heh, never in a million years would she have thought that her dad would use the pain she had suffered in exchange for benefits.
Sterling's expression changed unpredictably. In the end, he picked up the wine bottle with a livid look on his face and poured its content into his mouth. A mixture of tears and wine flowed down his cheeks.
"Don't drink so much, itâll make you uncomfortable." Sophia snatched the bottle away and set it on the table. Her heart felt as though it was being splashed with sulfuric acid and was instantly riddled with thousands of wounds. It hurt so bad that it was suffocating her.
"Say, why has this happened, Soph?" Sterling hammered his heart again and again, choking with sobs. "Mom and Dad clearly doted on you in the past, so why did they suddenly... Why did things suddenly turn out this way?"
Sophia pulled out a few paper towels and wiped the wine and tears from his face. "You have been away from home for far too long. Go home. Mom, Dad, and Nicole will be worried."
"No! When I came out today, I swore to the old man that I will never return to the White residence again!" Sterling was no drinker. His gaze was starting to look tranced already. "I donât want to return to that heartless home ever again!"
Sophia sighed softly. "If you don't go back, what will Nicole and the two kids do? Sterling, you are already an adult now. Don't be so headstrong."
"If Aunt Lewis and Mr. Jones, they... Burp... If they can believe Leah that scheming b*tch, then why canât Mom and Dad..." Sterling sprawled out on the table before he could finish his sentence and began snoring.
Sophia got out of bed, endured the pain in her leg, and heaved him onto the chaperone bed before covering him with a blanket.
She did a lot of physical work in prison and Dream Club, therefore she had already developed a considerable amount of strength in her arms.
She pulled out a few paper towels and wiped the tears from Sterlingâs face as he continued to mumble. Then, she staggered out of the ward and stood by the corridor window, looking into the distance with vacant eyes.
The night was like a giant beast lurking in the darkness, whereas the craggy tree shadows had turned into the limbs of the giant beast, leaping toward her with baring fangs and brandishing claws.
"Why are you standing outside when youâre already injured? You don't want your legs anymore?"
A cool and eerily familiar voice sounded from behind, making Sophia's body turn stiff. All of a sudden, it felt as though she was standing in an ice cellar. Her limbs were completely frozen and stiff.
She turned around to face Charles, lowered her head, and called out, "Mr. Harris."
âWhy is he here?â
Charles hummed a reply. His nonchalant gaze fell on her injured right leg, and he grimaced imperceptibly. Not another sound came from him.
His gaze felt like it carried a certain weight to it, like the golf club that had hit Sophia on her leg over and over again.
A thin layer of sweat covered her nose, and her butterfly-like eyelashes trembled slightly. The phrase âHow can I helpâ had been hanging on the tip of her tongue for the longest time, yet she was unable to utter a single word.
She hated William, Leah, and Charles. She was more fearful of Charles than hate, though. This was a fear that had seeped through her bone marrow.
"You can be honest with me if you don't want your legs anymore. Thereâs no need for you to go through all these troubles." Charles retracted his gaze and snorted.
"No." Sophia licked her dry lips. Her sweat slid down her cheeks. "It's too stuffy in the ward. I just came out to open the window. I will go back and rest now."
She turned around, walked to the ward, and opened up the window. Just as she was about to enter the door, she pausedâ
The man behind her was treading on her heels and was currently standing in front of the ward as well.
"How can I help you... Mr. Harris?" Sophia lowered her head. Her short and jagged hair covered the scars at the tail of her brows, revealing only her pale face.
Charles lowered his eyes to stare at the whorls on her head and was taken aback slightly. "I'm a little thirsty. Iâll go in and grab a cup of water."
"I'm really sorry, the meal at night was so salty that I finished drinking the last bit of warm water that was left." Sophia pinched the corner of her clothes slightly, her back already soaked.
Atrophy of Love: Mr. Harris, Stop Fooling Around!
ï¤Chapter 79 Charles Brilliantly Killed Two Birds With One Stone The Whites had assured Charles a long time ago that they severed all ties with her. Sterling, however, was lying in her ward at this moment.
She was not concerned about what would happen to White Industries. She just did not want to drag Sterling down.
Charles raised his eyebrows slightly, then lifted her chin and forced her to look at him.
Sophia was forced to look into his deep and bottomless eyes and could not stop herself from trembling slightly.
Even when she was looking at him like this, she still could not guess his thoughts. The unknown terrified her.
"Sophia." He pinched her chin and moved in closer without warning.
His good-looking face magnified before her eyes gradually, so much so that she could even see the fine hairs on his face.
Her heartbeat was suddenly racing. It felt as though it was about to jump out of her chest. She was afraid to look at him any longer, so she lowered her eyes and took a step back with her right foot, attempting to pull a distance between them.
However, Charles suddenly placed one hand on her waist, increased the force of his grip, and hooked her by the waist to pull her toward him.
Their bodies were stuck tightly. Hers, soft. His, firm. Their embrace was inexplicably gentle and ambiguous. Even so, this was still not enough to conceal the indifference in his eyes and the panic in hers.