Chapter 12 Sister? #2
Celia was sitting alone at a table in the center of the room. The moment she spotted Magnus at the door, her face lit up. She rose to her feet immediately, a bright, excited smile spreading across her lips.
“Magnus!” she exclaimed, standing up quickly. “It’s so good to finally see you. You actually came.”
She pushed her chair back and hurried toward him, arms already opening wide as she moved closer, hands lifting toward his neck, clearly intending to hug him.
Magnus raised his hand between them.
A handshake.
Celia froze mid-step.
Her gaze dropped to his hand, then lifted slowly to his face. Confusion flickered across her expression—followed quickly by displeasure.
She forced an awkward smile, clearly unprepared for the rejection. Slowly, she lowered her arms and extended her hand instead.
Magnus barely touched it.
The moment their hands met, he withdrew, already turning away. Without sparing her a second glance, he walked past her and took a seat at the table.
Celia stood frozen for a brief second, the smile on her lips stiffening.
She swallowed hard, forcing the sting of disappointment down her throat. By the time she moved, her expression was already carefully rearranged—pleasant, composed, unbothered. Pulling out the chair beside Magnus, she sat down gracefully, smoothing her dress as if nothing had happened.
She tilted her head slightly, sneaking another look at him.
He hadn’t changed.
If anything, he was more handsome than he had been in college. The boyish charm was long gone, replaced by sharp masculinity and an intimidating presence. The man sitting beside her matched the photographs she’d secretly received from friends—powerful, commanding, irresistible.
Her gaze lingered for half a second longer than necessary before she caught herself and straightened.
Magnus didn’t look at her.
“It’s so good to see you after college,” Celia said brightly, breaking the silence. “I moved to Greece for a while. Beautiful place, but honestly, I missed Manhattan terribly.” She chuckled lightly. “My family and friends are still here. Some even visited me there—but you never—”
Magnus turned his chair.
When his eyes finally met hers, the warmth she expected wasn’t there.
“Didn’t you want to talk about business?” he interrupted evenly. “About the black diamond mines your family owns?”
He leaned back just a fraction, one arm resting against the chair, posture relaxed but closed off. “Let’s discuss the deal. I don’t have much time.”
Celia’s smile faltered—but only for a second.
She masked it immediately, letting out a soft laugh as if she hadn’t been cut off at all. “Of course,” she said lightly. “But first, let’s have a drink.”
She rose smoothly from her seat, heels clicking softly against the floor as she reached for the bottle of champagne she had ordered—one of the most expensive options on the menu. She poured his glass first, then her own, the bubbles rising between them.
“We were friends for so long,” she added with a smile, sliding the glass toward him. “We haven’t seen each other in years. Surely we can share one drink.”
The glass stopped right in front of him.
“Here,” she said softly. “Tell me if you like this one.”
Magnus stared at the champagne for a moment, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.
He took a slow breath.
Then he reached out, picked up the glass—and drank.
Meanwhile, in another private room farther down the corridor of the same restaurant, Sophia took a slow sip of champagne, her gaze lowered to the auction list in her hand.
She swirled the champagne in her glass absentmindedly while scanning the paper, her brows slightly drawn in concentration. Just then, the sound of the door opening cut through the quiet.
She lifted her head.
Emma stood at the doorway—grinning.
And she wasn’t alone.
Emma was still dressed in the same outfit she had worn that morning. Beside her stood a man Sophia hadn’t expected to see.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and impeccably put together.
Dark, tousled hair framed a strong, chiseled face, and his sharp jawline caught the light as he tilted his head slightly.
His eyes—dark, intense, and unreadably confident—held a teasing glint, and the faintest curve of a smile played on his lips.
Hands tucked casually into his pockets, he radiated an effortless charm.
Sophia’s face lit up instantly as she rose to her feet.
“Elias?” she exclaimed, surprise and delight flickering openly across her expression.
“Surprise!” Emma said brightly. She looped her arm around Elias’s and pulled him inside, tugging him toward the table. “He had a business meeting here,” she explained cheerfully. “When I spotted him, I dragged him along.”
Sophia pushed her chair back and walked toward them, her smile genuine. She hugged Elias at once, wrapping her arms around him. Elias chuckled softly and returned the hug, patting her back before stepping away.
“How’s everything going?” he asked warmly. “It’s been a long time since I last saw you.”
Sophia clicked her tongue, shaking her head dramatically. “Please. You’re too busy making money to remember I exist, and I’m too busy helping your sister make even more of it.”
Elias smiled at that, amused. Emma laughed openly, and Sophia couldn’t help but giggle along with her.
“Come on,” Emma said, standing up. “Let’s head out and go somewhere else. I’m bored here.”
Sophia nodded, and quickly gathered her things from the table. The three of them stepped out of the room together, walking down the quiet corridor side by side.
Elias lifted his hand and extended the shopping bag he’d been carrying toward her.
“This is for you.”
All three of them halted mid-step.
Sophia blinked in surprise before breaking into a smile. She accepted the bag. “For me? I never say no to gifts.”
She looked down and opened it—and froze.
Inside was a luxury bag.
Her eyes widened as she took it in. “It’s a limited edition…?”
Emma clasped her hands together, practically bouncing in place. “I knew it!” she said excitedly. “That must’ve taken him forever to find something good enough for you. Don’t ever underestimate Elias’s gifts. If you’re important to him, he’ll always bring you the very best!”
Sophia’s grip on the gift tightened just a little. She lifted her gaze to Elias, a soft, genuine smile spreading across her face.
“Thank you, Elias. I love it.”
Emma leaned in closer, lowering her voice so only Sophia could hear.
“He doesn’t know about your fake marriage,” she whispered. “Don’t tell him yet. You don’t even have a real relationship with your husband anyway. Why not see if something could happen between you and my brother?”
She pulled back with a mischievous grin.
Sophia rolled her eyes and shot her a warning look. “Stop it. Don’t try to set me up with literally every man in existence.”
“It’s not just anyone,” Emma shot back. “It’s Elias! Honestly, you should’ve married him from the start. The two of you together? Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
Sophia shot her a scowl. Before she could respond, Emma raised her hands in surrender.
“All right, fine,” Emma relented. “I won’t talk about it again.”
They resumed walking, Emma on one side, Elias on the other, with Sophia between them as they headed down the hallway.
Suddenly, Emma stopped.
“Oh,” she said, turning slightly. “I think one of my friends is in this room?” she said, already reaching for the door. “She said she was in room 29 or something. Let’s invite her too.”
Emma pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The moment the door swung wide, they froze.
It wasn’t Emma’s friend.
Magnus was inside.
He had just risen from his seat, clearly about to leave.
At the same time, a young woman stood unsteadily beside him. She had a bright face, flushed cheeks, smudged lipstick, and was dressed casually—a dress, and a jacket thrown loosely over her shoulders.
She swayed, mumbling under her breath.
“I’m so drunk…” she slurred.
Before he could react, her body crashed against his chest, forcing him to step back to keep his balance. She clung to him tightly, her head falling against his chest as she groaned softly.
At that exact moment, Magnus looked up and froze.
Sophia stood right in front of him.
His gaze flickering between Sophia and the man next to her—the way they stood too close to each other not escaping his notice.
His jaw tightened abruptly, the muscles along his cheek hardening as something dark passed through his eyes.
A chill settled in his expression when his gaze shifted back to the man standing beside her.
Only then did he register who it was.
Elias Creed.
Next to him, Emma’s gaze landed on Magnus and then slid downward to the woman clinging to his arm.
Her brows drew together, confusion flickering briefly across her face before something clicked. The realization came in fragments, faint but unsettling. A second later, surprise flashed openly in her eyes.
“…Celia?”
Emma was a socialite to her bones. Knowing who was connected to whom in the upper circle wasn’t just a habit—it was her expertise. And Magnus’s past with Celia had never been a secret. She was the only woman he had ever openly kept close.
After Magnus married Sophia, Emma had done what she always did—dug. Deep. Practically six feet into his life, back to his very beginnings.
She recognized Celia in an instant.
Her stomach sank.
To anyone watching, Magnus and Celia looked unmistakably like a couple. Celia was pressed tightly against him, fingers curled possessively around his arm, her body angled toward his as if she belonged there. She didn’t loosen her grip. Didn’t even try.
Emma’s eyes lifted sharply to Magnus.
“Wait,” she asked at once, disbelief slipping into her voice, “are you two… back together?”
Even if his marriage to Sophia was nothing more than a contract—how could he be standing here with his ex like this, while still legally married?