“Come here,” Camila said calmly. “Sit with me for a minute.”
Camila had closed her magazine and was watching him expectantly.
For a brief second, Magnus didn’t move. Then he exhaled through his nose and walked toward her,.
Camila turned her head slightly toward the kitchen, her posture relaxed, her voice unhurried. “Can anyone bring coffee for Magnus?” she called. “Black.”
Immediately, one of the maids appeared at the doorway, bowing her head slightly. “Yes, Mrs. Graves,” she said, before disappearing back inside.
Magnus took a seat beside Camila, his back straight, one arm resting casually along the back of the chair, fingers relaxed. A moment later, a maid appeared and placed a cup of black coffee on the table in front of him, the porcelain making a soft clink against the glass surface.
He reached for it without looking, long fingers wrapping around the expensive china. He took a slow sip, then turned his head toward Camila, eyes settling on her face, waiting.
Camila turned toward him, her expression serious.
“Your marriage with Sophia will end in a few weeks.”
Magnus lowered the cup slightly and forced himself to take another sip. His gaze drifted forward, unfocused.
Camila continued, as if she hadn’t noticed.
“I’ve thought about it,” she said, her brow faintly furrowed. “About your relationship with Sophia. I’ve come to realize there’s no need to continue it anymore.”
Magnus’s hand froze midair. The cup never reached his lips again.
“What do you mean?” he asked, finally turning to look at her, eyes fixed.
“I don’t mind if you get divorced later,” Camila said, her voice steady. “There’s no reason to drag this out.”
The cup in Magnus’s hand tilted just slightly, the coffee inside rippling against the edge—but his grip didn’t loosen.
Camila continued, her tone even. “I want to put an end to this mess before it escalates.”
She shifted in her seat and faced him fully now, meeting his gaze head-on. “Sophia is a good girl. I want her to have a good life. I don’t want to ruin her future for nothing.”
With every word, Magnus’s expression darkened. His jaw tightened, a faint muscle ticking at his temple, his eyes turning cold but Camila pretended not to see it. She kept speaking, detached, almost indifferent.
“If the two of you have no feelings for each other, there’s no reason to force this marriage.”
Magnus said nothing.
The silence stretched. His jaw clenched harder, teeth grinding slightly as his fingers tightened around the cup until his knuckles paled.
Then he lifted the cup and set it down on the table with a sharp, controlled motion.
Camila immediately continued, not giving him even a second to interrupt.
“Mila trusted me to take care of her granddaughter. So I will take care of Sophia for the rest of my life.”
Then she added, as if discussing something completely ordinary, “Once you get divorced, I’ll host a party immediately. I’ll invite every good family we have connections with and introduce her as my adopted daughter.” She paused briefly. “That way, we can find her a better match.”
Magnus’s head snapped toward her.
For the first time, he couldn’t hide it.
Shock flashed across his face. His brows drew together, his eyes widening just slightly before darkening.
“Are you serious?!” he snapped. “You’re going to host a party to introduce her as your adopted daughter—to look for ahusbandfor her?”
