Capone interrupted her, his face pale, breathing heavily as he released her. "No... You're not allowed to get married. I won't allow it. Did you hear me?"
"Who are you to forbid it? What right do you have to control me like this?"
"I'm your man. I have every right to claim you here and now. "
Golden spots flickered in Capone's vision; he forgot the doctor's warning to control his emotions—no agitation, no extreme sadness or anger. But his mind echoed one thought: She's getting married. She's getting married...
"Stop the car!" His weak voice reached the front, and the car pulled over. "Get out. Get out of my sight! I don't want to see you again. Get out!"
Sophia was frightened by the look on his face. She had never seen him like this before, as if he would vanish into the shadows if she touched him. This usually towering and domineering man was trembling, just sitting there as though using every ounce of strength to hold himself up.
Wasn't he supposed to be recovered from his injuries? Why did he look so utterly drained?
"Are you unwell? Do you need to go to the hospital?"
Capone sneered. "Sophia Diaz, how pathetic are you? When I want you, you act all pure and virtuous. Now I tell you to get lost, and you can't bear to leave? Is this how you seduce men?"
Sophia felt both humiliated and angry. She couldn't remain indifferent toward him, yet he spoke as if she were worthless.
She didn't even pay attention to where she was. Fuming, she opened the car door and got out, storming off.
Only after she left did Capone lower his head to find his medicine bottle. He was so desperate that he could barely hold it, struggling to open the small cap and finally taking the pills, leaning back in the seat, utterly exhausted.
"Capone, do you need to go to the hospital?"
The driver noticed something was wrong. Capone hadn't brought Mandy or Terry or anyone else with him today, wanting to be alone with Sophia Diaz to show her the truth of the situation.
Everything had been arranged. Amy's good-for-nothing ex-husband was tipped off, knowing he'd go back to Amy for benefits, giving her a chance to admit to her deeds with her own mouth. Sophia should have believed it when she heard it with her own ears, and then they could openly discuss everything between them.
But he hadn't realized the issues between them were far more complicated than that!
She actually said she was going to get married, that she would marry another man. She would make the tiramisu she'd once made for him for someone else, barefoot, pressing her feet into the basin, washing sheets for another man, and at night... she would fall asleep in someone else's arms, waking up in them in the morning.
Just imagining all of this made his chest ache to the point where he couldn't breathe, as if that broken rib had never healed, piercing into his heart, with blood gushing out from the wound.
"Capone?" The driver, uncertain of his condition, asked again.
"No, I'm not going, who told you I need to go to the hospital!" Capone snapped, rolling down the window and flinging the medicine bottle out with force.
He hated himself, hated these medications! Since when had his body become so weak that he needed to carry medicine around, that an emotional outburst could even make him faint?
It was all because of this woman, all her fault!
Becoming a flesh-and-blood human being turned out to be this difficult.
He wanted to see, without going to the hospital, without medicine, without this woman—would he die?
He leaned his head back against the leather seat, which had a faint, musky scent. He looked up at the light-colored patterns on the car ceiling, feeling a sense of despair like never before.
There was no longer a reason to hold on; all he felt was exhaustion.
What's the use of being powerful, able to turn the tides, if he couldn't even keep the woman he loved…
When Sophia went home, she couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Capone's pale, grayish face, his heavy breathing, and his tight grip on her hand, as if he were clutching his last lifeline. It felt like the two of them were drifting in the vast ocean, unable to find a place to rest.
The next day at work, dark shadows lingered under her eyes, and she looked unwell. Amy was in even worse shape, avoiding eye contact and barely speaking.
After calming down at home, Sophia understood that this situation was probably the result of Capone's secret investigation. Otherwise, Amy's ex-husband wouldn't have had the ability to figure out who had leaked information to the media, nor could Capone have known exactly where they would meet.
Given Capone's nature, he wouldn't let someone like that off the hook easily. There would surely be punishment and intimidation, even if he didn't actually do anything. His mere presence would be enough to terrify someone as ordinary as Amy.
Sophia guessed that Amy wouldn't last much longer at the job, but she didn't intend to confront her directly. It was better to let things go when possible. Losing her job was already a big punishment; there was no need for an open conflict. She decided to wait for Roger to return and let Amy handle it with him.
When Roger called again, Sophia told him she didn't want to go back to work at the shop for the time being. He sensed that something had happened and asked why. Sophia, with an unusually calm smile, replied, "I just feel it's a bit inconvenient. People are already seeing me as your spy. If I actually became the boss's wife, they'd think even more. You can't have it both ways; I can be either a housewife or a pastry chef—one role is enough for me!"
Roger was silent on the other end for a moment, then, with a hint of joy and uncertainty, asked, "Sophia, does this mean what I think it means? Are you willing to marry me?"
Sophia replied playfully, "Talking about marriage feels a bit rushed. You haven't even proposed! But I've made up my mind. When you come back, let's arrange for our families to meet. At the very least… we can get engaged first."
She couldn't let herself go on like this, constantly longing for Capone, even seeing him in her dreams.
Naturally, Roger was thrilled, wishing he could return right away to make it official, but he had two more days of work to finish. He had no choice but to ask Sophia to hold on for two more days.
"Sophia, thank you! When I get back, you won't need to work at the shop anymore, and I'll need you to put some thought into planning the wedding!"
Sophia didn't feel burdened; rather, she felt a sense of reluctance. Roger's bakery had been the starting point of her dreams, but with everything that had happened, reality turned out to be far more complex. She didn't want to trouble others, nor did she wish to face the trouble that others might bring.
As she busied herself in the kitchen, the other employees had already gone home. She insisted on staying late to make a batch of mousse and tiramisu for tomorrow's sale.
This was her last day working here. Roger would be back tomorrow, and she would soon bear the title of his fiancée. From then on, her focus would be on family gatherings and planning the engagement or even the wedding.
As for her dream of becoming a successful pastry chef with her own shop or brand, it seemed no one really cared. Even she wasn't sure if she still cared, or if there would ever be a day when she would pick up that dream again.
Just as she had said, "You can't have it all." She had once imagined a fresh start to be so simple and beautiful, but with all the rumors and Capone's unpredictable behavior, she could only temporarily set aside part of her dreams and try to stay invisible, hoping to avoid further complications.
Sophia placed some finished mousse in the refrigerator. She was alone in the shop, the warm orange light casting a cozy glow on the floor.
When she stepped out of the kitchen, she saw Capone standing there. The rolling shutter behind him, which had been half open, was now fully down, and the glass door was locked. He walked toward her step by step. The warm light fell on him, but it couldn't dispel his cold, imposing presence. In this small space, his intense aura made it hard for Sophia to breathe.
"What are you doing here?"
"Because you're here. If I had been a little later, I might not have found you."
Sophia looked up to examine him closely. His black hair was softly falling over his brow, slightly disheveled. His deep amber eyes, like resin melting in heat, held a warmth that seemed ready to envelop her, as if anything that fell into his gaze would be tightly wrapped up, becoming a part of his soul.
"Have you been drinking?" She caught the faint smell of alcohol in his breath.
"Brandy. The same thing you drank when we first met."
With a lazy, teasing smile, he moved behind the worktable, looking down at her.
"You know everything?"
"What are you referring to? The engagement or that you've quit?"
Sophia shook her head. She didn't need to ask to know that he already understood everything. She hadn't intended to hide it from him.
"Do you think it's over just like that? That by not working here, I'll let him go? What I want is for his entire family to never have peace. Sooner or later, they'll understand what kind of trouble they're marrying into."