Chapter 35 The Man at Her Door

Chapter 35 The Man at Her Door

A flicker of surprise crossed Eric's face.

He knew Sebastian had a secretary named Sophie. When one of his entertainment companies needed to coordinate with Carter Group headquarters on a project, she had handled everything from start to finish.

She was organized, thorough, never missed a detail—a woman who knew exactly what she was doing.

"Sophie?" Eric thought back. "Anyone would be shaken after something like that, especially a young woman. Is she okay? She wasn't hurt, was she?"

"Just some scrapes." Sebastian's mind flashed to the image of Sophie throwing herself toward that stretcher covered with a white sheet, completely breaking down.

That reckless panic and fear went far deeper than just being shaken up.

Eric saw the dark look on his face and knew he had been through too much today, his mind still churning. He did not push further.

He clapped Sebastian on the shoulder. "All right, don't overthink it. Whoever was in that hotel room, the truth will come out eventually. As for those old bastards in your family—they have been a pain in your ass for years. You know how to handle them."

He set down his glass. "I'm heading out. Get some rest, and don't wind yourself up too tight."

The study door closed, and silence settled over the room again.

Sebastian did not go to bed right away. He stood in the darkness for a long time.

Eric's words were like a stone dropped into deep water, sending ripples across the surface of his thoughts.

Emma's tears and concern felt like a carefully rehearsed performance—every expression perfectly timed, but fake enough to make his skin crawl.

Sophie was different.

He thought of her breaking down in that hospital corridor, of her crying out in her nightmare, of that soft, warm kiss that trembled against his lips.

Real. Raw. Uncontrolled.

That kiss was like a key, unlocking something in his memory.

The woman from that night had trembled in his arms, inexperienced and nervous, stifling her cries. Her skin had been smooth as silk, and she had smelled clean, with a subtle, elegant fragrance.

That feeling was identical to when he had stolen a kiss from Sophie last night.

The realization quieted the restlessness churning inside him, replaced by something more complex and unfamiliar.

That night, Sebastian slept more soundly than he had in months.

The next morning, he opened his eyes before dawn had fully broken.

Instead of heading to the office like usual, he changed into casual clothes, grabbed his car keys, and went straight to the garage.

He needed to see her.

The black Bentley tore through the early morning streets, traffic light and easy.

Sebastian's fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white, betraying the turmoil beneath his calm exterior.

The car pulled smoothly to a stop outside Sophie's apartment building.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed the door open.

The morning air carried a bite of cold. He looked up at the familiar window—curtains drawn tight, no sign of life inside.

Just as he started toward the building entrance, a warm male voice called out from nearby.

Sebastian stopped dead.

He turned toward the sound.

A man in a light gray cashmere sweater was heading toward the building. Tall, refined, with handsome features and an easy smile—the kind of gentle warmth that put people at ease.

Sebastian's pupils contracted sharply.

At that same moment, the man spotted him.

Their eyes locked. The air froze.

Stanley Worden's smile faded slightly when he saw Sebastian. They moved in the same circles—of course he recognized the man who ran Carter Group with an iron fist.

But what was Sebastian doing here at this hour? Outside Sophie's apartment building?

Two equally impressive men faced each other in the cool morning air, tension crackling between them.

Sebastian felt an irritation he could not quite name.

The man's gentle demeanor and the insulated container in his hand both grated on his nerves.

He broke the silence first, voice cold as ever. "Mr. Worden."

"Mr. Carter." Stanley's tone was polite but probing. "Awfully early to be out. Are you here to—"

"Just passing through." Sebastian cut him off, expression blank.

The lie was so transparent even he found it ridiculous, but pride would not let him admit he had come here on purpose.

Stanley's eyes flickered with knowing amusement, but he did not call him out.

He simply nodded, maintaining his courteous manner. "I see. Well, I won't keep you."

With that, he turned and walked toward his own car.

Sebastian stood rooted to the spot, watching Stanley's retreating back, then glancing at the insulated container sitting in the building's delivery locker. His chest felt heavy, suffocating.

In the end, he did not go upstairs. He yanked open the car door and climbed in. The engine rumbled to life, and the black Bentley spun around and sped away.

In the rearview mirror, Stanley's figure grew smaller and smaller. Sebastian's expression grew darker and darker.

That was when he realized what that unfamiliar emotion was.

Jealousy.

Stanley watched the Bentley disappear around the corner, his smile vanishing completely.

He pulled out his phone and called Sophie.

"You awake? I just got back from overseas and brought you breakfast. Left it in the delivery locker downstairs."

Sophie sounded surprised on the other end but quickly responded.

"Can I come up for a bit?" Stanley asked. "There's something I'd like to talk to you about in person."

A moment later, Sophie's apartment door opened.

She was wearing loose loungewear, her hair casually pinned up. When she saw Stanley, a genuine smile touched her pale face. "Stanley, what are you doing back so suddenly?"

"Project wrapped early." Stanley stepped into the entryway and handed her a gift bag. "Just got off the plane, haven't even adjusted to the time difference yet, but I wanted to see you first."

As he changed his shoes, he studied her face, his brow furrowing. "Why have you lost so much weight? Work running you into the ground?"

Sophie took the bag, smiling faintly. "Same as always. My stomach's been acting up again."

She turned to pour water, and Stanley followed, watching her thin frame, his voice taking on a scolding edge. "I've told you a hundred times—don't work at a place like Carter Group. The hours are brutal. You never listen. Why not come work for me? Pick any position you want. I guarantee you'll be out by five every day, no overtime."

He had been saying this since she graduated, but she had never taken him seriously.