In its place was a fitted leather short skirt hugging her legs and a simple white T-shirt tucked in neatly. A pair of sleek sunglasses hid her eyes even though the sun had long set, the dark lenses acting more like armor than an accessory.
She paused at the front steps, fingers tightening around the suitcase handle for a brief second.
She pulled the sunglasses up slightly, casting one last glance at the house behind her that now felt cold, suffocating. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she let out a slow breath and slid the glasses back into place.
Without looking back again, she dragged the suitcase down the steps. As she reached the front door, Timothy—Magnus’ssecretary—rushed toward her. He had been waiting near the Mercedes-Benz, hands folded respectfully behind his back.
“Mrs. Graves,” he reached for her suitcase. “Let me help you. Mr. Graves sent me to pick you up.”
Sophia gave him a small smile. “No need. I have my own ride.”
She strode toward the sleek red Chevrolet Corvette parked at the curb, the wheels clicking softly against the pavement as she reached it. Lifting her suitcase, she shoved it into the back, the trunk thudding shut before she rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat. The door slammed. A second later, the engine roared to life beneath her hands.
Within moments, the Corvette tore down the street. Timothy could only stand there in stunned silence, blinking as the red blur disappeared.
The Corvette soon pulled up in front of a massive mansion, the clean nameplate at the entrance reading:Magnus.
She stepped out of the car, rounded to the back, and popped the trunk. Gripping the handle of her suitcase, she tugged it free and set it down beside her, the wheels clicking softly against the pavement.
Several maids were already stationed at the entrance, waiting for her arrival.
One whispered to another, “Isn’t that the woman Mr. Graves married? But I heard it was a forced marriage—something about her grandmother’s last wish.”
“Yeah,” another said. “I don’t think it’s going to last. Force marriages never do.”
Dahlia, the head maid, folded her arms over her plain uniform, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun. Her sharp eyes and thin lips gave her an air of superiority that made her look older than she was. She surveyed Sophia with open disdain, and her voice, quiet but cutting, carried to the others:
“Don’t take her seriously. She’s not going to be our future boss. Mr. Graves may have married her, but there’s no connection between them. There’s no reason to treat her like she’s special.”
“Wait,” the first maid hissed, her voice dropping to a whisper. “She’s coming—hush.”
Dahlia didn’t budge. She kept her arms crossed, her expression cold, as Sophia stepped through the doors and entered the mansion.
All the maids greeted her, “Good evening, Mrs. Graves.”
Dahlia muttered reluctantly, her voice low and grim, “Good evening, Mrs. Graves.”
Sophia removed her sunglasses, letting her eyes sweep over all the maids. A small, polite smile curved her lips. “Good evening,” she said softly. “Where is my room?”
“It’s upstairs, Mrs. Graves,” a maid replied. “It’s the very first room. The only bedroom upstairs, actually. The other rooms are living areas—couches, study, common spaces for Mr. Graves.”
Sophia gave a short nod. “Thank you.”
She turned and headed toward the stairs, dragging her suitcase behind her. One of the maids stepped forward to help, but Dahlia grabbed her arm and shot her a glare, stopping her in her tracks. Sophia didn’t comment on it. She simply continued pulling the suitcase up the stairs herself.
But then Dahlia suddenly stepped into her path.
Standing right in front of her, Dahlia folded her arms and said coldly, her voice arrogant and dismissive, “I won’t be able to cook today. You came on such short notice. I don’t have time.”
Sophia paused.
She lifted her eyes and slowly looked Dahlia up and down, her gaze calm, measured. “That’s fine.”
Without another word, she stepped around Dahlia and continued upstairs with her suitcase.
Dahlia remained standing there, watching her back, lips curling into a smug smile.
Chapter 2 First Day of marriage
