“Oh, come on,” Thomas sneered. “Cry. That’s what you do best. You get mad, you cry, and then I’m the villain. But did you ever think I got you that job because I loved you?”
“That’s not love,” Sofia snapped. “Nepotism isn’t love. Buying positions isn’t love. That’s your idea of affection because that’s how you were raised. But porca di quella puttana, it was never what I needed.”
“If you’d just understood me—”
“Excuse me?” She stared at him. “What exactly was I supposed to understand? That Daddy paid for your influence? That you lied your way intomycareer?”
“I got you a job!”
“I didn’t want it that way!” she shouted. “While you were partying, I was studying my ass off to earn scholarships, to get into San Diego, to study marine biology at the best school in the world. While you were snorting coke—and don’t deny it—I was in the lab building something real, making a change in the marine world. And now I’m free of you, building Salacia fromthe ground up, working my ass off, and you’re sabotaging me. Telling TerraVive to back off. Trying to buy a town just to build a resort you don’t even care about.”
Thomas ran a hand through his hair. “Working your ass off? Please. Opening your legs seems more accurate. Jamie told me about your PR stunt with the surfer before you even went public. You can stop pretending it’s real. The show’s over.”
“At least he knows how to make me come,” Sofia shot back. Jeremy coughed loudly, suddenly fascinated by a statue. “And he cares. He always has. He showed me what love actually is.” Her voice dropped. “And if you read my statement, why didn’t you say you were sorry about my father?”
Her chin trembled. “You knew him for eight years. He welcomed you like a son. And you never once asked how I was. If you’d loved me—even a little—that would’ve been the first thing you did.”
Thomas didn’t answer.
“All of this,” she continued, steady now, “isn’t business. It’s your bruised ego. You didn’t care until I moved on. Until Ilias. You’re petty. You always have been. An egocentric, narcissistic rich kid who thinks money fixes everything.”
His jaw tightened. Rage carved into his face.
“What do you gain by buying Imsouane?” she pressed. “Besides hurting Ilias?”
Silence. The wall. When Thomas had no answer, he shut down.
“You haven’t changed,” she scoffed. “You wait for others to clean up your messes.”
“I loved you,” he said flatly.
“No,” Sofia shook her head. “You loved the idea of me. You never surfed with me. Never dove. Never cared about my nieces. You never learned my languages, my cultures. It was always yourworld, your rules. Never us.” Her voice softened. “Your betrayal freed me.”
“Eight years,” he whispered.
“Eight years,” she replied. “And what of them?”
“Don’t you miss us?”
“No,” she said simply. “I don’t.”
Yasmine stepped in then, eyes wet. “I’m not selling the restaurant. I’m sorry. It’s not what we want.”
Thomas didn’t even look at her. “This place is a dump.”
And without another word, he left, stomping out of the restaurant in the most childish way possible. In the end, it had been anticlimactic, and she didn’t know if she had convinced him to stop.
“I’m sorry, Miss Moretti,” Jeremy stepped closer to her, his eyes cast down.
“Is he going to leave Imsouane, or just the restaurant?” she asked, not sure what to do with his pity.
“I don’t know. Mister Whitmore can be… volatile.”
Sofia nodded as Ilias entered the restaurant, followed by Ghita.
Jeremy looked around, nervous, then added, “His father didn’t sponsor the project. He called it a tantrum over you leaving him, as you pointed out in your discussion.”
Sofia cocked an eyebrow.
