Chapter 1

When Sophie Bennett came back from seeing Zachary Wells, I was eating dinner at the table, taking my time.

She looked a bit surprised and said mockingly, "Oh, have you finally learned your lesson? You're not waiting around for me like an idiot until midnight this time, huh?"

In the past, hearing her trample on my sincerity like this, I would have argued with her, insisting that waiting for dinner together was a promise we made to each other.

But this time, I just calmly cleared the dishes. "Yeah, I won't be doing that anymore."

She carelessly tossed her bag and shoes aside, flopped onto the couch, and started scrolling through her phone. Whatever message she received made a faint smile appear on her face.

When she noticed I wasn't cleaning up after her mess, Sophie got up and walked over to me. She cleared her throat and spoke first.

"You're a grown man. Can't you be more mature? Zachary was so scared when he saw your passive-aggressive reply."

I found it amusing. "He must not have much of a backbone, then."

Sophie moved closer and linked her arm through mine. This was her go-to move whenever she wanted to sweet-talk her way out of trouble after angering me.

"You've been supporting Zachary for so many years, and he's always been grateful for your kindness. You should act like a proper older brother. After you finish cleaning up, call him and apologize."

I had supported Zachary for ten years, helping him go from a poor kid in the remote mountains to someone who wore designer brands and never had to worry about his next meal. I'd always treated him like my own little brother.

But ever since Zachary met Sophie through me, he stopped showing me the respect he used to. Instead, Sophie's name was always on his lips.

I could see he wasn't grateful for my kindness at all. He just wanted to steal my girlfriend. However, at this point, I no longer cared about either of them.

"Ethan Lewis, are you even listening to me?" Sophie slammed the cabinet door hard.

The plate in my hand shattered on impact. Before I could pull my hand back, the door caught it, breaking the skin. Blood started seeping out.

Sophie jerked her hand back in panic, frowning. "Why didn't you move your hand? Wait here—I'll get you some gauze."

She rummaged through drawers and cabinets, then suddenly stopped, as if remembering something.

I recalled a photo Zachary had posted on social media a month ago. Sophie was wearing a tight skirt, crouching in front of him, carefully dabbing at his knee with a cotton swab. Next to her was our home's first aid kit.

Zachary's caption read, "My scraped knee doesn't hurt anymore because I have Soph to care for me."

Sophie and I had a huge fight over it, but she just scornfully mocked me for being heartless.

"Zachary's been alone since he was little, so of course I'll help him when I can. Are you really that petty?"

Now, Sophie looked up awkwardly. "It's fine. Let me take you to the clinic to get it bandaged."

My wound was still bleeding, and it indeed needed to be bandaged, so I followed Sophie out the door.