Chapter 64: Echoes of Guilt Sophia POV

I woke up on the couch, stretching my arms over my head, the blanket slipping off as I kicked it aside. The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting stripes across the living room. I grabbed my phone from the coffee table, the screen lighting up as I unlocked it with a swipe, scrolling through notifications. 

A news alert popped up, bold letters glaring at me: Argus Corp CEO Ethan Blake Fired Amid Sinclair Scandal. I gasped, dropping the phone onto the cushion, my hand flying to my mouth. "No," I whispered, picking it back up, my thumb tapping the article open, my eyes darting over the words—board vote, prototypes claimed, ties to Sinclair Global.

I stood, pacing to the kitchen, my slippers shuffling against the hardwood. "This is my fault," I muttered, grabbing a mug from the cabinet, the ceramic clinking as I set it on the counter. I poured coffee from the pot, my hand shaking slightly, splashing a few drops onto the tile. "Damn it," I said, snatching a paper towel and wiping it up, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it into the trash.

I walked back to the couch, sinking into it, scrolling the article again, my finger pausing on Ethan’s name. "He lost everything because of me," I said aloud, my voice trembling as I tugged at a loose thread on my sweater.

I set the mug down, grabbing my jacket from the armrest, slipping it on with a quick tug. "I’ve got to see him," I decided, picking up my keys from the bowl by the door, jingling them in my hand as I headed out. The stairs creaked under my sneakers as I jogged down, pushing the building door open, the cold air hitting my face.

The drive to Ethan’s apartment was quick, my hands gripping the wheel, my foot tapping the gas pedal at every light. A stray dog barked from the sidewalk, chasing a pigeon as I turned onto his street. I parked, slamming the car door shut, my breath puffing in the crisp air as I walked to his building.

I buzzed his apartment, my finger pressing the button hard, then stepped back, pacing a small circle on the stoop, kicking a pebble with my toe. The intercom crackled, Ethan’s voice coming through. "Who’s there?"

"It’s me—Sophia," I said, leaning closer, my hands stuffed in my pockets.

A pause, then a buzz as the door unlocked. I pushed it open, climbing the stairs two at a time, my sneakers thudding against the steps. At his door, I knocked, my knuckles rapping sharply, my other hand adjusting my bag’s strap on my shoulder.

Ethan opened the door, his hair messy, a cardboard box under his arm, his shirt untucked. "Hey," he said, stepping aside, setting the box on the floor with a soft thud.

I walked in, unzipping my jacket, tossing it onto a chair. "Ethan, I saw the news," I said, my voice trembling as I pulled my phone from my pocket, showing him the screen.

He glanced at it, grabbing a beer from the counter, twisting the cap off with a hiss. "Yeah, they fired me," he said, taking a sip, his voice flat.

I stepped closer, dropping my phone onto the coffee table, my hands wringing together. "I did this to you, Ethan. I’m so sorry."

He set the beer down, picking up a pen and twirling it between his fingers. "It’s not just you, Soph. Victor’s the real bastard here."

"But I dragged you into this," I insisted, pacing to the window, pushing the blinds aside to peek out at a sparrow hopping on the ledge. "I should’ve kept you out of it."

He walked over, leaning against the wall, tossing the pen onto a side table. "I chose to help. My call."

I turned, my fingers tugging at my sleeve again. "And now you’ve lost everything—your job, your prototypes. Because of me."

He grabbed a stack of papers from the box, flipping through them, then dropped them back in. "They took it all—company property, they said. But I’m not blaming you."

"You should," I said, my voice cracking, stepping closer, my hand brushing his arm. "I feel like I’ve ruined you."

He looked at me, his eyes softening, setting the box aside with a nudge. "You didn’t ruin me, Sophia. Victor did. And I’m tougher than that."

I nodded, picking up my jacket, folding it over my arm. "I just... I want to help. What can I do?"

He grabbed a glass from the counter, filling it with water from the sink, the faucet gurgling. "Stay a bit," he said, handing it to me, his fingers brushing mine. "I could use the company."

I took the glass, sipping slowly, the cool water soothing my throat. "Okay," I said, setting it down, my hand lingering on the counter. "I’ll stay for a bit."

He smiled faintly, picking up a remote and clicking on the TV, the sound of a news anchor filling the room. "Sit," he said, patting the couch beside him, grabbing a bag of chips from the table and ripping it open.

I sat, crossing my legs, grabbing a chip and crunching it, my eyes on the screen but my mind elsewhere. "I’ve been so caught up with Victor," I said, brushing crumbs off my jeans. "My inheritance... it’s fading away."

He tossed a chip into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Maybe it’s not worth it anymore, Soph. Look what it’s cost us."

I nodded, picking up my phone again, scrolling to a photo of me and Jake, my thumb hovering over it. "Maybe," I murmured, setting it face down on the table.

We watched TV for a while, the room quiet except for the hum of the set, a dog barking faintly outside. Ethan stretched, his arm brushing mine as he leaned back, his voice soft. "Stay the night, if you want. Couch is yours."

I glanced at him, then at the couch, my fingers tapping the armrest, my resolve wavering. "I... I don’t know," I said, standing, pacing to the window again, staring at the couch, unsure if I should say yes.