Chapter 99

Chapter 99

Five minutes later, Beauchamp pushed the door open.

He'd lost weight, dark circles under his eyes matching mine exactly. His well-tailored suit couldn't hide the exhaustion and irritability radiating from him.

Seeing me, his expression turned complicated. He opened his mouth as if to say something.

I didn't give him the chance, directly pushing a document in front of him. "Sign it."

It was an equity transfer agreement.

Transferring all my shares in the Neville Group to him, free of charge.

Beauchamp's face instantly went deathly pale. He stared at the document.

"What is this supposed to mean?" His voice was hoarse and dry.

"It means that from today on, everything to do with the Neville family has nothing to do with me." I leaned back in my chair, tone flat. "If you want to live happily ever after with Monica, be my guest. I only want the company my mother left me. Everything else—I don't want a penny."

In my previous life, I'd entangled myself with him, with the Neville family, over things that didn't belong to me—for my entire life. And I'd ended up dying miserably.

This life, I didn't want any of it anymore.

"Sophia, does it have to be this way?" Beauchamp's eyes reddened, his voice carrying a trace of pleading. "The Lyra situation—that was my fault. I admit it, I bribed her. I wanted to... make you suffer a little. But I never wanted you dead! I had no idea about the fire or locking the door!"

He explained urgently, trying to clear himself. "I was just... I was just jealous of Sebastian! I was angry that for his sake, you'd throw away our entire past! I..."

"Enough." I cut him off.

"Beauchamp, do you still not understand?" I stood, walking over to him, looking down at him. "I'm not sulking with you. I'm not playing hard to get. I truly don't want you anymore."

I laughed once, though the smile didn't reach my eyes. "Our past was you and Monica exchanging flirtatious glances while I retreated and compromised again and again. Now, I'm done yielding."

I picked up the pen from my desk and tossed it in front of him. "Sign. Once you sign, we're even."

Beauchamp looked as if all his strength had been drained. Looking at me, his eyes held complete unfamiliarity and despair.

He suddenly let out a bitter laugh.

That laugh was full of resentment and spite. "Even? Sophia, don't even think about it!"

He suddenly raised his head, grabbing my wrist hard. "You think Sebastian is some good guy? That type of man only cares about profit and calculation! He's nice to you now because you still have use! Once he's tired of playing with you, you think your fate will be any better than it would've been with me?"

His emotions ran high, his grip frighteningly strong, pinching my wrist bone painfully.

I frowned, trying hard to pull my hand back, but failed.

Looking at his face twisted with jealousy, I suddenly smiled.

I rose on my tiptoes, leaning close to his ear, whispering in a voice only we could hear, "Even if it's just playing around, I'm willing."

"After all," I curved my lips, watching his expression instantly stiffen, adding word by word, "his kissing skills are way better than yours."

Beauchamp's rationality was completely shattered in that instant.

His eyes bloodshot, he yanked me toward him and lowered his head to kiss me.

That cologne scent I'd been infatuated with for an entire lifetime now only made me nauseous.

The second before he could touch me, I used all my strength and kicked him hard in the shin!

He grunted in pain, his grip loosening slightly.

I seized the opportunity to break free and fled from the office without looking back.

I didn't know where I was going. I just wanted to get as far from him as possible.

I rushed into the elevator, randomly pressing the button for the basement parking garage.

The elevator doors had barely opened when I saw that familiar black Bentley.

Sebastian was leaning against the car door, an unlit cigarette between his fingers, seemingly waiting for someone.

Seeing me rush disheveled from the elevator, he froze, then crushed the cigarette and strode toward me. "What happened?"

He'd just reached me when the elevator doors opened again behind him.

Beauchamp had followed.

"Sophia!"

Seeing Sebastian, he stopped short, rage and jealousy practically pouring from his eyes.

Sebastian's expression instantly turned cold as well.

He pulled me behind him, shielding me.

Two equally tall, equally outstanding men—the air thick with explosive tension.

"Sebastian, this is between her and me!" Beauchamp roared.

Sebastian didn't even spare him a glance.

He just turned his head slightly to look at me, voice low. "Did he touch you?"

Before I could answer, Beauchamp completely lost it.

Like a maddened bull, he charged at Sebastian with his fist raised.

I cried out in alarm.

However, Sebastian simply sidestepped, effortlessly dodging his punch.

Then he grabbed Beauchamp's wrist in reverse and twisted hard.

A crisp snap, accompanied by Beauchamp's scream.

His arm bent at a grotesque angle—Sebastian had forcibly broken it.

Sebastian didn't even glance at Beauchamp writhing in pain on the ground. He released his hand and, as if he'd touched something filthy, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and meticulously wiped his hands.

Then he casually tossed that expensive handkerchief into a nearby trash can.

He turned around and took my cold hand. "Let's go."

The car door slammed heavily, cutting off Beauchamp's shrill screams behind us.

Sebastian stuffed me into the passenger seat, his tall figure immediately sliding into the driver's seat.

The Bentley let out a low roar and shot out of the underground garage like an arrow from a bow.

The speed was fast. Scenery outside the windows flew backward in a blur of flowing light and shadow.

Inside the car—deathly silence.

I could feel the terrifying low pressure radiating from Sebastian beside me.

He stared straight ahead, his jawline taut as cold stone, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles stood out distinctly.

I glanced down at my wrist, reddened from Beauchamp's grip, then recalled how Sebastian had broken Beauchamp's arm without hesitation. My heart pounded uncontrollably.

Fear, yes—but more than that, an unprecedented sense of security from being fiercely protected.

I'd rushed out of my office in such haste that I'd lost my footing at a corner in the parking garage. My knee had scraped against the rough cement and now burned painfully.

But compared to the shock Sebastian had given me, this pain was nothing.

"What did he want to do?" He finally spoke, his voice like ice, each word striking my heart.

My heart faltered. I instinctively avoided his gaze.