Chapter 8 I’ll End This Marriage #2
With a sharp curse under his breath, he hurled the phone onto the bed. It bounced once before landing near the pillows. Magnus shot to his feet, pacing the room like a caged animal. His hands dragged through his hair, pacing the room aggressively.
“Where the fuck are you spending your night now?” he roared, his voice echoing off the walls.
His chest heaved. His eyes burned with a mix of anger and something far more dangerous — hurt pride.
“You won’t even come home to sleep now?” His voice rose. He kicked the leg of the bed. The wood gave a dull thud. “You don’t even ask me for an explanation?!”
His chest heaved with each breath. The anger that had been building all day finally erupted, rolling through him in waves.
“You disappear without a word. Get angry at me for no fucking reason. And then you don’t come home at night?” His voice cracked despite the fury. “And I’m supposed to just—what? Pretend it doesn’t matter?”
He let out a harsh laugh, but there was no humor in it.
“Thousands of women would do anything just to hold my hand,” he said bitterly, turning back toward the empty bed. “And you won’t even sleep in the same fucking bed with me?”
His mind drifted back to the night at his mother’s house. The way Sophia had refused to sleep beside him in the same bed, saying it was too small.
Even then, it had stung.
His jaw tightened at the memory.
Now he stood in their bedroom, staring at the massive king-sized bed — and her side was still empty.
He stared at her pillow, untouched, as if it had personally offended him. His chest rose sharply. He raked a hand through his hair in frustration, fingers gripping hard at the roots.
He couldn’t stay in the room any longer. It felt suffocating. He turned abruptly and strode toward the door. When he yanked it open and slammed it shut behind him, the bang echoed through the entire house.
Silence followed.
But only for a few seconds.
Suddenly the door swung open again.
Magnus stepped back inside, breathing heavier now. His eyes scanned the room once more — the empty balcony, the untouched bed, the quiet darkness.
For a fleeting second, his gaze turned wild, as if he truly wanted to tear the entire room apart.
Instead, he marched to the dressing table.
His eyes landed on the bottle of coconut oil near the mirror.
He flipped the cap open with unnecessary force and dumped a generous amount into his palm. The thick liquid pooled there, already starting to drip between his fingers.
“Fine,” he muttered.
Then he walked back out and slammed the door shut again.
The bang echoed even louder this time.
With dark determination, he smeared the oil over the doorknob. He coated it thoroughly, rubbing it over the metal again and again until it shone under the lights.
His lips pressed into a tight, stubborn line.
He grabbed the knob from the outside and twisted.
His hand slipped instantly.
The knob didn’t catch.
The door stayed shut.
He stared at the doorknob for a long moment, chest rising and falling as he breathed hard.
Then he stepped back, his hands dropping to his sides, a twisted mix of frustration and grim satisfaction crossing his face.
“If you don’t want to come home,” he snapped into the empty hallway, “then stay outside the whole damn night!”
His fist rose and struck the door with a dull thud.
Then he turned sharply and marched down the stairs, storming out of the house again.
Two hours later, the front door of the mansion opened quietly.
Sophia stepped inside the house.
Her footsteps echoed softly through the empty house. The lights were still on, casting warm shadows along the walls, but outside the windows it was pitch black.
She climbed the stairs slowly, exhaustion weighing down her movements.
When she reached the bedroom door, she reached for the handle casually—
Her hand slipped.
She frowned.
She tried again.
Her fingers slid uselessly over the metal.
She pulled her hand back and looked down.
Under the hallway light, her fingers glistened.
The doorknob was coated in oil.
Her brows furrowed. She leaned closer, squinting at the knob.
It was completely coated.
“What the hell…” she muttered in disbelief.
She jerked her hand back in disgust, staring at her slick palm. The faint scent of coconut oil hit her nose.
“God damn it!” She hissed, shaking her hand in frustration.
Taking a slow breath to steady herself, she turned and walked toward the second bathroom at the end of the hall. She turned on the tap and shoved her hands under the water, scrubbing them with soap. The smell of coconut lingered faintly. She washed harder than necessary, jaw tight.
After drying her hands, she grabbed tissues and a bottle of sanitizer. Then she walked back to the bedroom door.
Returning to the bedroom door, she knelt slightly and began wiping the knob. Her movements were controlled, but her jaw was tight, her brows drawn together in anger. She sprayed sanitizer and wiped again until the metal felt dry and clean under her fingers.
Only then did she grip the handle.
This time, it turned smoothly. The door opened. She stepped inside quietly.
The room was empty.
Her eyes scanned the space, but Magnus was nowhere to be seen.
She tossed the tissues and sanitizer onto the side table near the door with a soft thud. Taking a deep, frustrated breath, she walked to the bed and sat down heavily on the edge, her shoulders sagging.
“What the hell?” she whispered into the empty room.
There was no answer. Only silence pressing in from every corner.
She fell back onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath her weight.
The chandelier above blurred.
She blinked slowly.
For a moment, she shut her eyes tightly, as if darkness could quiet the storm in her head. But it didn’t. The thoughts only grew louder.
After a few seconds, she opened them again and stared up at the ceiling. She shifted, sitting up again. Her knees bent at the edge of the bed, her legs dangling over the side, toes barely brushing the floor. Her hands rested limply at her sides, fingers slightly curled into the sheets.
“He’s running away from me now that his girlfriend is back in his life?”
The thought stabbed deep. Her fingers curled into the bedsheet, creasing the fabric.
“He didn’t even try to explain the rumors about him and Celia…” she whispered into the silence.
Her throat tightened painfully.
“Does he really not care at all?”
But there was no one there to hear her.
Just then, her phone buzzed sharply against the bedside table.
The sudden sound made her flinch. She turned her head toward it, her heart thudding. For one foolish second, hope flickered in her chest.
She grabbed the phone quickly. Her heart pounded as she looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
She swallowed the disappointment and opened the message.
‘Did you see the photographs in the news? I’m sure you did. They’re all over the internet. Magnus and I look so good together, don’t we?’
Her fingers trembled around the phone.
Celia?
Before she could even process it, another message came through.
‘Do you want to know what we did in that hotel room together? You should know, right? I’d hate for you to imagine the wrong things.’
Her breath hitched.
Another message.
‘Why don’t you meet me tomorrow? Hotel du Lac’s guest Restaurant. I’ll tell you everything. 11 AM.’
Sophia’s face was cold with anger.
Instead of replying, she locked her phone and let out a soft, humorless laugh.
“Unbelievable.”
She tossed her phone onto the bed beside her.
Morning couldn’t come soon enough.
When it was finally time, Sophia arrived at Hotel du Lac and stepped inside.
Celia was already seated at a table in the center of the room.
Her hair was styled perfectly, long and straight, falling neatly over her shoulders. She wore a glossy fitted top with a matching skirt, the fabric shimmering under the soft lights. A thin silk scarf wrapped elegantly around her neck. Her hands rested gently on the table, fingers folded gracefully.
From a distance, she looked like a gentle, sweet woman patiently waiting for a friend.
The longer she looked, the clearer it became — the innocence was an act. The wickedness in Celia’s eyes was hard to hide, no matter how carefully she masked it.
Ignoring the thought, Sophia walked over calmly.
Without offering a greeting, she reached the table, draped her purse over the back of the chair, and took her seat with unhurried ease.
She wore a short skirt and a fitted top, the long sleeves hugging her arms, a light jacket layered over it. The clothes weren’t overly expensive, yet they looked refined on her.
Celia’s eyes swept over Sophia from head to toe. The jealousy in them was obvious. People around the restaurant kept glancing toward their table, their gazes drifting back again and again toward Sophia, as if she carried an invisible magnet that drew attention effortlessly.
Celia’s jaw tightened.
The anger she had already been suppressing deepened. Still, she leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, and smirked.
“It’s good to see you’re not a scared little mouse, Sophia.”
Sophia tilted her head slightly, folding her arms across her chest, her smile calm.
“If you’re shameless enough to plaster your intimate photos with a man all over the internet,” she replied calmly, “then how could I not be brave enough to meet you in public?”
Celia’s smile froze.
For a second, the sweetness vanished completely, replaced by a flash of naked frustration. Her fingers curled slightly against the table before she forced herself to relax.
“I have an offer for you,” she said, adjusting her posture.
She reached into her handbag, pulled out a check, and slid it across the table toward Sophia.
“This is ten million dollars. Consider it compensation for the inconvenience of the past few months. You know Magnus and I have been together since college, right?” She leaned forward slightly. “Take the money. Leave Magnus. Let us be together.”
She paused, studying Sophia’s expression carefully.