Chapter 2 First Day of marriage
It was ten at night when Magnus pushed open the door and entered the house.
The place was silent.
Then—
The smell hit him.
Strong. Smoky. Barbecue.
His brows furrowed as he stepped inside, following the scent toward the dining area.
And then he stopped.
Sophia was sitting at the dining table.
The table in front of her was filled with plates—barbecue meat, grilled vegetables, sauces, side dishes. The rich smell filled the entire space.
Hearing the sound of footsteps, Sophia glanced up and froze when she saw Magnus standing in front of her.
She immediately set the spoon down and stood up, clearly flustered. Her eyes darted from him to the food and back again. Color crept into her cheeks.
“I… didn’t know you’d be coming home this early,” she said, letting out a small, awkward laugh.
Without waiting for a response, she began clearing the table quickly, gathering plates one by one. “I’ll clean this up,” she added hurriedly.
She carried everything into the kitchen in one trip after another.
Magnus didn’t move.
Instead of heading further inside, he turned slightly, watching her.
She finished placing everything in the kitchen and walked back out. As she stopped in front of him, Magnus reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a document.
He handed it to her.
She stopped in front of him, confused, then took it.
Opening it, her eyes skimmed the pages.
It was a detailed document—terms outlining his property, assets, and the conditions of their marriage.
Sophia exhaled slowly, holding back her laughter.
‘As expected,’ she thought. ‘First day of marriage, and this moneyminded monkey is already counting clauses instead of saying welcome home.’
She lifted her eyes briefly to him, then looked back at the papers. ‘He really believes everyone is after his money. As if I’d ever beg him for alimony.’
She took a slow breath and shook her head slightly in disbelief.
‘Even though Prestige Wardrobe is nothing compared to the Empire Group, my grandmother’s thirty percent share is more than enough for me to live comfortably for the rest of my life. He really thinks I’d fight him over money?’
Before she could say anything—
Magnus started speaking.
“We’ll divorce after three months,” Magnus said flatly. “You’ll get five percent of my business and three villas.”
He watched her closely as he spoke, eyes flicking over her face, searching for hesitation, discomfort, greed.
There was none. She remained completely indifferent, staring at his face as if he was talking about weather.
“There’s one more thing,” he added coldly. “No one is allowed to know about this marriage. If you tell anyone—even a word—you’ll pay one hundred million dollars as compensation.”
Sophia folded the document neatly and clasped her hands behind her back, meeting his gaze without flinching.
‘He’s already told me all of this twice—once when we first met, and again at the marriage bureau,’ she thought irritably. ‘And now he’s saying it again, as if I might forget this marriage is nothing more than a contract.’
“If you have a problem with it, then we—” Magnus began.
Before he could finish, Sophia suddenly stepped forward.
Magnus froze, breath catching as she entered his personal space. For a split second, he didn’t know what she was about to do—her nearness unsettling in a way he hadn’t expected.
Her hand lifted, brushed against his chest, and slipped into the inside pocket of his suit. Magnus went completely still, pulse jumping, eyes fixed on her fingers as she calmly drew out the pen he had tucked there.
Without hesitation, she placed the document flat on the dining table and leaned over it, signing swiftly.
The moment she finished, she straightened to her full height, turned on her heel, and walked back toward him.
Magnus stood frozen, watching as she reached up, slid the pen back into the pocket of his suit, then lifted the signed document from the table and placed it into his hand.
“Mr. Graves,” she said quietly, a genuine, calm smile on her face, “I agree to all the terms.”
She paused.
“And I don’t want the villas,” she added. “You can keep them.”
Disbelief flickered across his face, quickly followed by suspicion.
‘Let’s see if you say the same thing after three months,’ he thought arrogantly.
He folded his arms across his chest and looked down at her. “Remember this clearly. This is just a contract marriage.” His voice hardened. “I only agreed to this marriage to put an end to my mother’s constant pressure. I won’t love you. Don’t expect anything more.”
Sophia looked at him calmly, completely unbothered, the faint smile still on her lips.
“I understand, Mr. Graves,” she replied evenly.
His eyes flickered with surprise.
He had expected resistance. Anger. At least disappointment.
“I won’t care about you,” he continued, his tone losing some of its edge without him realizing it. “And you’re not allowed to care about me either. We’ll mind our own business. You won’t interfere in my personal life or my decisions.”
As he watched her, irritation stirred in his chest. She must be furious, he thought smugly.
‘After everything she did to marry me—after all the effort to get me—now that she’s finally my wife, how could she possibly accept this so easily?
Hearing that I won’t be a proper husband, that there will be strict terms, must have enraged her. ’
He was already prepared for an argument. After all, marrying him only to be told she had no rights over him should have provoked some reaction.
He squared his shoulders, his face cold, and continued, “Even if you want to—”
“Mr. Graves,” Sophia interrupted.
Still smiling, she picked up her phone from the table, met his eyes, and said in the same composed tone, “Don’t worry. I agree to everything,” she said evenly. “I don’t have the time to care about you either. Please feel free to play around as you like.”
Shock flashed across Magnus’s face.
Sophia didn’t stop. With the same calm tone, she added, “Alright. I’ll head back to the room now. I need to sleep. Good night.”
With that, she turned and walked away.
Magnus remained rooted to the spot, watching her disappear. A frown slowly formed on his face. Something about her words felt… wrong. But he said nothing. His fingers tightened, crumpling the contract in his hand.
Taking a deep breath, he turned and headed toward the bedroom as well.
He entered the bedroom, his footsteps echoing faintly—only to stop abruptly.
His eyes landed on a bare back.
Sophia stood in front of him, her hands behind her as she pulled down the zipper of her dress. The fabric slid lower, exposing smooth skin as she began to turn—
“Aah!”
A startled scream left her mouth the moment she saw him standing there, rooted in shock.
Magnus blinked, snapping back to his senses.
Sophia quickly turned away, yanking the zipper back up before facing him, anger flashing across her face. “What are you doing? Get out! Don’t you know how to knock?”
Magnus scowled and stepped further inside, heading straight for the closet.
He slid it open, revealing rows of his clothes. “This is my room!”
Her eyes flicked to the closet, then back to him. Confusion crossed her face. “But the maids said this is my room.”
“Of course they did,” he replied. “You’re my wife now. Did you forget what I told you? No one is allowed to know about our arrangement.”
She stiffened.
“So…” she said slowly, “we’re going to stay in the same bedroom?”
“Yes,” Magnus said, his voice cool, though there was a flicker of something betraying him.
“Trust me, it’s as bothersome for me as it is for you, but we don’t have a choice.
I’m not going to risk anyone tattling to my mother.
I’ll tolerate this for three months, and I’m sure you’re more than happy to live with it. ”
He snatched clothes from his closet and strode toward the washroom. His voice remained calm, but the faint flush on his face betrayed him. The embarrassment of seeing her almost naked in his bedroom had left its mark, and he hurried inside, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Sophia frowned at his arrogance, her teeth gritting. ‘More than happy to live with that? What does he take me for, a swooning fan girl—dying to live in the same room with him?’ she thought, frustration bubbling.
She spun around with irritation, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.
“It’s alright,” she murmured under her breath. “Just three months. You can get through this, Sophia.”
***
“Five million dollars,” Sophia’s voice rang gracefully across the grand Centurion Hall.
Every eye turned to her.
Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, their light bouncing off polished marble floors, while gilded walls displayed priceless artwork.
Plush velvet chairs lined the polished mahogany tables, occupied by impeccably dressed men and women whose watches and jewelry were more expensive than a house in Manhattan.
The soft murmur of conversation faded as she stepped forward.
“It is the only 180-year-old bottle of Chateau Lafite in the world, ladies and gentlemen. The King of Arabia once owned this before it was lost—and it was recently rediscovered in a hidden cellar.”
All eyes followed Sophia. Her smile was polite, professional, and commanding all at once. “Bidding starts at five million, with increments of fifty thousand dollars minimum.”
Whispers and murmurs spread through the hall. Phones were lifted to ears as bidders consulted clients. Sophia’s gaze swept over them, calm and confident.
“Place your bids, ladies and gentlemen.”
A hand shot up, two fingers held up in the air. Sophia pointed. “Seven million.”
Another hand went up. “Seven million and fifty thousand,” she announced, her voice clear and elegant.
A woman raised her hand. Sophia smiled, pointing to her. “Eight million. We are now at eight million dollars.”