The CEO's Midnight Remedy novel Chapter 238

“Don’t worry,” I cut her off, feeling a surge of control that bordered on intoxicating. “This is for my private collection. I have no interest in your followers.”

She stared at me, momentarily speechless. I could see the realization in her eyes–she was powerless. Her shoulders slumped slightly before she spun on her heel and stalked away.

I watched her retreat, my heart still racing from our confrontation. The scales had tipped, and for the first time in years, I felt like I was reclaiming my life.

My phone vibrated in my hand, breaking my reverie. Sophia’s name flashed on the screen. I answered immediately.

“Can you come get me?” Her voice was barely audible, thick with tears and something that sounded like fear. “I want… want to go home.”

The triumph I’d been feeling evaporated instantly, replaced by a cold knot of worry. My stomach tightened, and I felt my throat constrict.

“Sophia? What happened? Are you hurt?” The words tumbled out as I already began moving toward the stairs, my hand gripping the banister tightly.

“Please, just come,” she whispered. “I can’t… I can’t do this alone.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I promised, my mind already racing through traffic patterns and shortcuts. “Hold on, Soph. I’m coming.”

On my way out, I found Elsa dusting in the foyer, her eyes watchful and concerned.

“Keep an eye on Victoria,” I instructed her quietly, placing a hand on her arm. “If she does anything suspicious, call me immediately. I mean it–anything at all.”

Elsa nodded, the lines around her eyes deepening. “Be careful, Miss Aria,” she murmured. “These waters are getting very deep.”

1 drove through Manhattan’s streets with single–minded focus, my knuckles white on the steering wheel. The vindication I’d felt earlier had been replaced entirely by concern for Sophia. My best friend, my business partner, the one person who had stood by me through everything–the thought of her alone and

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Chapter 238

in pain made my chest ache.

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The hospital’s fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow as I scanned the waiting area. I spotted Sophia sitting alone on a long bench, her slender frame hunched over, clutching her purse to her chest. Her normally impeccable appearance was disheveled–her silk blouse wrinkled, her hair falling loose from its usual neat bun.

“Sophia,” I called softly, hurrying to her side.

She looked up, her eyes swollen and bloodshot. When she recognized me, her face crumpled, and she reached for my hand with unexpected desperation.

“Take me home,” she whispered, her fingers cold against mine. “Please, Aria… Mom, she…”

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, feeling how she trembled beneath my touch. All thoughts of Victoria and Scarlett vanished from my mind as I focused entirely on my friend’s pain.

“I’ve got you,” I murmured, helping her to her feet. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together. Just lean on

me.”

As we stepped inside, my breath caught in my throat. The once–immaculate living room was in shambles. Furniture had been overturned, picture frames lay shattered on the floor, and the beautiful Korean traditional embroidery that had been in Sophia’s family for generations hung in tatters, ripped down the middle.

In the center of this destruction sat Carmen Kim, Sophia’s mother. She stared blankly at the wall, seemingly unaware of the chaos surrounding her. Pill bottles and medical bills were scattered across the coffee table in front of her.

“Mom?” Sophia called, her voice small and uncertain. She approached slowly, as if afraid sudden movements might shatter the fragile silence.

Carmen’s head turned toward us, her vacant expression suddenly transforming into one of intense anger.

“You are not my daughter!” she shouted in Korean, the words harsh and staccato, before switching to English. “I have no daughter who would be so disrespectful!”

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