#5 "I Don't Need Your Assistance."

The banquet hall exudes an enchanting aura, adorned with vibrant emerald greens and pristine whites, the traditional colors for a momentous twentieth anniversary celebration. Despite Sophia's initial rejection of Alexander's invitation in her office, she acknowledges the significance of his company for her future endeavors and decides to attend.

Even though three years have passed since Sophia last donned formal attire, she remains well-versed in the art of making a grand entrance. Her figure-hugging Alexander McQueen black dress accentuates every curve flawlessly, while the embellished bustier emits a subtle radiance, captivating the attention of onlookers. 

As she strides into the resplendent banquet hall, Sophia's gaze scans the room, eventually resting upon Alexander, who stands near one of the bars, observing her intently.

Sophia offers a mere nod in Alexander's direction before purposefully steering herself in the opposite direction, determined to forge her own path.

Making her way towards a bar situated on a serene terrace, Sophia glides elegantly through the venue, aware of the piercing scrutiny from those around her. The faint murmurs of judgment graze her ears, but she remains resolute, undeterred by the gossip. Sophia possesses a plan, and she is unwavering in her commitment to follow through.

At the terrace bar, Sophia orders a glass of white wine, her eyes scanning the lively gathering once again. It is then that a middle-aged man, wearing a sleazy grin, begins to approach her.

Perfect, Sophia thinks, an inkling of curiosity flickering within her. She already knows what he desires, judging by the unmistakable lust in his eyes.

"I'll have a gin and tonic," the man requests from the bartender, his gaze never wavering from Sophia's enticing form.

With his drink in hand, he draws closer to Sophia, his sleazy aura palpable. "You embody sheer perfection, my dear. Although I'm certain you're well aware of that," he remarks, inching closer until his breath brushes against her neck.

"Thank you," Sophia responds curtly, her words laced with restraint.

"You know, Ms. Johnson," the man continues, his free hand now daring to brush against her shoulder, "being a lawyer and looking the way you do, I imagine it's not as easy as it seems." He clucks his tongue.

Taking a subtle step back, Sophia's personal space is quickly invaded as the man closes the gap. His gaze lingering on her curves, he persists, "You know, I recently acquired a secluded villa on a private island. The thought of you, lying on the sandy shores in a tantalizing bikini... it could be quite enjoyable," he whispers into her ear, his hand gently caressing her shoulder.

Overwhelmed with revulsion yet determined to maintain her composure, Sophia turns towards the man, bestowing upon him the most seductive look she can muster. 

"Sir, being a lawyer still holds its advantages. Your wife recently approached us, presenting compelling evidence, including photographs and other incriminating documents of your indiscretions with other women. This evidence is more than sufficient to transfer ownership of your precious island villa into your wife's name. My esteemed colleagues can assist you in leaving with nothing," she declares, her voice tinged with a hint of steel. 

Without hesitation, she takes a small sip of her wine before dramatically splashing the remaining liquid onto the man's face, leaving him humiliated in her wake as she gracefully walks away.

The man lunges forward, driven by his misguided intent, but security swiftly intervenes, preventing him from laying a finger on Sophia.

"Apologies for this, Ms. Johnson," one of the security guards reassures her. "I will personally ensure that he is escorted off the premises."

Sophia chuckles, unfazed by the incident. "It's alright, really. Sadly, it's not the first time some sleaze bag has attempted to make a move on me."

The security guard blushes, his composure momentarily shaken by Sophia's casual response.

"But I'm curious," Sophia playfully nudges, her raised eyebrow demanding an explanation. "How did you manage to arrive so swiftly?"

The guard stumbles over his words, much like any man would in the face of Sophia's undeniable beauty and power. "Mr. Stone instructed us to keep a close eye on you, just in case any issues arose."

"Oh, did he now?" Sophia nods, her expression maintaining a hint of intrigue as she brushes a stray strand of hair away from her face.

"In that case," she continues, "if there's anything I require, Mr. Stone's request, please let me know."

"Absolutely, Ms. Johnson," the guard responds promptly. "If there's anything you need, just say the word."

"As a matter of fact, there is something," Sophia reveals, her tone laced with a touch of weariness. "Is there a quiet place where I can rest for a moment, away from the bustling crowd?"

"Of course," the guard assures her. "Follow me." He leads her down a narrow hallway, guiding her into a private room, offering a respite from the clamor of the celebration.

Sophia expresses her gratitude to the guard and enters the room, finding relief as she takes a seat and removes one of her black Manolo Blahnik heels to massage her aching foot. After three years of not having to wear heels, tonight was proving to be a struggle.

After a brief moment of rest, Sophia heads back to the hallway. As she opens the door, her heel catches on a small section of carpet, causing her to stumble. Just before she falls, a firm hand reaches out and grasps her arm, steadying her.

Her heart races as she feels the strength of the man's embrace, but Sophia quickly pulls away and turns to see who it is.

Alexander.

Their hands remain connected for a moment as Sophia takes a step back, her gaze shifting to observe the outlines of his muscular physique beneath the perfectly tailored Giorgio Armani tuxedo. She hastily withdraws her hand and takes another step back.

"Thank you, Mr. Stone," Sophia responds, her voice cool and composed.

"Of course," Alexander replies, his tone equally detached.

In that instant, Sophia becomes overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. She feels a peculiar heat radiating from her skin, a sensation she hasn't experienced before.

Alexander frowns, attempting to decipher the expression on Sophia's face. Clearing his throat, he speaks up, "You're welcome. I saw that man harassing you upstairs, and I was going to intervene, but it seems like you handled it perfectly. The man won't dare enter the city's business circle again."

Now he wants to play the hero? Sophia thinks, her disgust mounting. She looks at Alexander with cold disdain. "I am more than capable of taking care of myself. I don't need any assistance from you."

A short chuckle escapes Alexander's lips, provoking a surge of rage within Sophia. This man is nothing but a hypocrite, she screams silently in her mind. Acting all sweet and gentle, but it's all just a ploy to get something from me!

Fed up with Alexander's charade, Sophia confronts him directly. "The only reason you invited me here is because you want something from me. So, what is it?"

Alexander's expression shifts to one of seriousness. "I need you to find any loopholes in this contract. I want to reclaim my share of the stocks."

He hands her an envelope, and Sophia opens it to find a document—their divorce agreement.