Rebirth: Love me Again

Chapter 221 The Price of Pride

Sophia's face contorted in anger, her composure snapping. "That bitch! She's faking it! She—"

"Enough!" Sullivan barked, cutting her off before she could say anything more damning.

The two lawyers turned their attention back to him, their expressions cold.

Sullivan swallowed thickly, hands tightening into fists. "My apologies," he muttered, shooting his wife and daughter a glare that promised consequences later.

Marcus adjusted his cufflinks, unfazed by the outburst. "You should consider yourself fortunate that our client is offering a settlement," he said. "A trial would be far more costly—both financially and publicly."

Victoria's gaze pierced through Sullivan. "You have twenty-four hours to make a decision," she stated with a crisp tone. "Release the statement and pay the settlement, or we proceed to court." She rose from her chair with an air of finality, Marcus following suit. "And Mr. Rosette," she added, "we do not lose."

The words lingered ominously in the room long after Victoria and Marcus exited, their footsteps echoing down the hallway like a death knell.

The silence that followed was unbearable. Sullivan sank back into his chair, defeated, his hands running through his graying hair. Sophia's face was red with barely contained fury, while Sophie sat frozen, her mind reeling.

"This can't be happening," Sophie whispered, her voice shaky. "Twenty million dollars . . . for a slap?"

Sullivan said nothing, his mind racing for a way out. But deep down, he knew the truth—there was no escaping Blackthorn & Kingsley. They had already lost.

There was an undeniable evidence. Victoria Blackthorn's assistant had delivered it, placing a sleek black tablet on the table before exiting. The screen flickered to life, revealing a video. Crystal clear. The confrontation. The slap. And then another slap.

Every detail played out with damning clarity—the sound of skin meeting skin, the furious words exchanged, Eve stumbling back, her hand cradling her cheek.

As if that weren't enough, the voice recording followed.

Sophia's expression hardened, her lips a thin line of determination. "Then take out a loan."

Sullivan's head snapped toward her, disbelief etched onto his face. "Are you serious? A loan? And from whom? Do you want me to put the company on the line just so Sophie can wear a dress and some diamonds to impress the Fays?"

Sophia leaned forward, her voice low and urgent. "Listen to me, Sullivan. The Fays could save us. One word from them, one partnership, and our struggles would be over. You know what this party means. Sophie is our best shot at getting the Fays on our side. We can't let her go looking like some second-rate nobody."

Sullivan ran a trembling hand down his face, exhaustion settling in his bones. "And what happens when we can't pay the loan back? You think Victor and Eve won't hear about it? She'll ruin us the moment she finds out I've borrowed money just to keep up appearances."

"Then ask your father's friends," Sophia pressed, her voice growing more insistent. "Or go to your business partners. You have to find a way."

Sullivan's jaw clenched, his patience fraying. "And what about you, Sophia?" he spat bitterly. "Why don't you ask your parents for help? Surely they can spare a few million for their darling daughter?"

Sophia's face turned red with outrage. "Are you insane? Do you want my parents to think we're so desperate that we're begging for their money? They've already invested hundreds of millions into your company. If I ask for more, they'll start to doubt your competence! They'll doubt you."

Sullivan let out a long, weary sigh, slumping back into his chair as though the fight had been drained from him entirely. He stared at the ceiling, his mind racing through options—none of them good.

Sophia's voice softened just slightly. "Sullivan, I don't care how you do it. Take out a loan. Call in favors. Sell off shares if you have to. But don't let Sophie go to that party looking like a joke. You know how important this is."

For a long moment, Sullivan said nothing. His face was drawn, his eyes dark with shadows of pressure. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and resigned. "Fine," he said quietly. "I'll figure something out."

Sophia's expression eased, satisfaction flickering behind her eyes. "You'll see, Sullivan. This will all be worth it in the end."

But as Sullivan sat there, staring blankly at the pristine conference table, a sinking dread curled deep in his stomach. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice whispered what he refused to acknowledge.

The price of pride had just become far too steep.