Chapter 300

Chapter 300

The scorching warmth that had filled the car seemed to linger stubbornly in the air around Sophie's face, a phantom heat that clung to the tip of her nose.

Her lips still throbbed with a dull, pleasant ache from the force of his kiss, and Benjamin's words echoed in her skull like a brand seared into memory—"You're mine."

Sophie rested her forehead against the cool glass of the car window, watching the glittering streetscape outside, her thoughts a restless mess.

She had almost forgotten.

Forgotten what kind of soul hid beneath Benjamin's carefully constructed mask of sweet obedience and playful servitude.Beneath that charming veneer lived something far darker—obsessive, domineering, and utterly unyielding.

That near-destructive possessiveness of his had not dulled in five long years.

……

The open-air café on the ground floor of the hotel caught the sea breeze, carrying with it the salty, damp scent unique to the Mediterranean.

Frank looked more worn than Sophie had expected. Faint shadows had settled beneath his eyes, evidence of sleepless nights, yet his impeccably tailored casual suit still lent him an air of composed elegance.

He pulled out a chair for her with quiet grace. "Sit down," he said, sliding the menu toward her.

Sophie didn't look at it. She got straight to the point. "Any word from Professor Meza?"

Frank's hand froze mid-motion. He looked up, his expression carrying something complicated and hard to name.

"Sophie," he said softly, his voice dropping to a gentle register. "I have bad news. Professor Meza passed away two years ago. A sudden heart attack."

The words hit her like ice water flooding through her veins.

She went rigid, her entire body locking into place as the world around her seemed to dim.

Two years ago, she had still been abroad then, completely cut off from everything in her past.

She never could have imagined that Ramon Meza, the man who had praised her so warmly at her thesis defense and told her privately that her talent deserved better than to be buried, was already gone.

Her only witness. Gone forever!

Did that mean there was truly no way left to prove Silent Fireworks belonged to her?

Watching the color drain from her face, Frank quickly said, "Don't panic yet. It's not a dead end."

He reached into his briefcase, pulled out a tablet, opened a video file, and slid it across the table toward her.

The footage was shaky, shot from a low, discreet angle—clearly captured without the subject's awareness. The background noise was loud. An airport departure lounge.

In the frame, a young woman was talking animatedly to someone just beyond the camera's view, her face illuminated by pure excitement. She was holding a tablet of her own, her fingers flying across the screen, sketching out lines.

It was Sophie. A college-aged Sophie Sophie.

"Look, right here—I want to use hundreds of tiny diamonds to capture the sparks of a firework just after it bursts. That exact moment when they're beginning to fade but still radiate warmth. They shouldn't look static. I want them to look like they're moving, like they're breathing…"

"And the center stone—it can't be a traditional round or square cut. It has to be something unconventional. Cut into the shape of a single frozen teardrop. The entire piece will dazzle on the surface, but at its core, it's sad. A silent scream."

"I've already got the name. I'm calling it 'Silent Fireworks.'"

In the video, Sophie's eyes sparkled with an untainted passion for the future, a fervent love for the craft of design.

The sketch she was drawing on the tablet was the earliest, most essential incarnation of 'Silent Fireworks'.
And there, in the bottom right corner of the frame, the timestamp glowed with undeniable clarity.

That date was six months earlier than the "manuscript" Vivienne had in her possession— the one Sophie had supposedly completed as her graduation project.

The evidence was irrefutable.

Sophie's head snapped up, shock rippling across her features. She remembered confiding fragments of this concept to Frank once, long ago… but where in the world had this video come from?
"I'm sorry." A flicker of guilt crossed Frank's face. "That exchange program the school organized to Sylvanor — I wasn't actually on the list. I went under the pretense of accompanying my uncle. The truth is, I went to see you."

"My uncle figured out what I was feeling. So he quietly took this video on his phone and sent it to me afterward. He teased me about it quite a bit."

A self-deprecating smile tugged at the corner of Frank's mouth.

"Strictly speaking, this video was taken without your knowledge or consent, but all these years... I just couldn't bring myself to delete it."

The pieces clicked into place within Sophie's mind, and a quiet, heavy stillness settled over the space between them.

That video wasn't just evidence. It was the unspoken love Frank had carried for years without ever saying a word.

"Frank…" Sophie's voice faltered. She had no words adequate for the moment.

"I remember what I once told you." Frank cut her off, his gaze steady and intense. "I said that if I did three things for you, would you consider… marrying me."

Sophie's chest constricted. Of course, she remembered. The memory was etched into her with painful clarity.

The first thing — Frank had saved her and the children's lives within the walls of that prison.

The second—he had helped her break free from Benjamin's grip.
Her eyes dropped to the tablet before her and forced herself to speak. "So this video… is the third thing you're talking about?"

The sea breeze swept across the table, lifting the napkin and letting it flutter back down like a surrendering white flag.

After a long silence, Frank released a low, rueful laugh.

"No."

"I'm letting it go."

Confusion knitted Sophie's brow as she searched his face.

Frank lifted his coffee cup and took a slow sip, allowing the bitterness to anchor him in the present.

"Sophie, I've always known, deep down. You never really let go of Benjamin. No matter how much he hurt you, no one has ever taken his place in your heart. No one could."

"I just couldn't accept it. I kept asking myself—why wasn't everything I did for you enough? Why does one look back from him outweigh all of it? I wanted to use those three things to give myself a chance, and to give you something that might make you feel obligated to stay."

"But these past few days, I heard what Benjamin has been doing for you. I heard about how he's been making himself small for your sake inside the Scott family. I had people look into it. The matter with Alfonso—he's been been pursuing that lead all along. He was even ahead of us."

"I understand now. That wall between you and Benjamin—it's already crumbled to dust. You're not going to leave him again."

"So I'm conceding."

"I refuse to use this video as a bargaining chip to extract a promise I have no right to claim. That would be cruel to both of us."

Frank slid the tablet back across the table toward her, and for the first time, his eyes held something resembling genuine peace.

"Consider this my last gift to you. Go take back what was always yours, Sophie."

Sophie looked at him, and a sudden warmth bloomed behind her eyes. Her throat tightened. A surge of emotions rose within her—gratitude, sorrow, affection—and in the end, they condensed into three simple words, spoken with quiet sincerity.

"Thank you, Frank."

She paused, then added gently, "I hope you find your happiness too."

"I will." Frank smiled—a smile that held both release and a genuine wish for her well-being.

Sophie said goodbye and turned to leave.

Frank remained in his seat, watching her walk away until she disappeared around the corner into the hotel lobby and vanished from sight.

He picked up his now-cold coffee and drained the cup in a single swallow.

Maybe, in this lifetime, he would never love someone like this again.