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?
But Magnus’s stare was fixed on Elias and Sophia and on the bag in her hands. The luxury brand’s unmistakable logo gleamed under the lights, announcing without subtlety that whatever was inside was outrageously expensive.
His eyes darkened further.
Finally, Magnus spoke. “No.” He shifted his arm, trying to push Celia away. “It was an accident.”
But she tightened her grip instead, clinging to him even more stubbornly.
Magnus’s fingers curled at his side, frustration flashing briefly across his face before it disappeared behind his controlled, icy calm.
His eyes met Sophia’s as he said coldly. “I’m leaving first.”
He didn’t wait for a response.
Celia clung to him as he turned, her fingers digging into his arm as he strode out of the restaurant. His steps were fast and forceful, his shoulders rigid with barely restrained rage. His jaw was clenched hard, the muscle ticking as he turned his face slightly away, as if trying—and failing—to hide what burned across his expression.
Sophia stood frozen, her gaze locked on his retreating back. She watched him disappear, her chest tightening, disappointment and hurt settling heavy on her face. She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath.
At that moment, Celia suddenly turned her head.
Her eyes met Sophia’s.
She smiled.
It was soft. Innocent. Perfectly sweet.
And Sophia recognized it instantly for what it was.
It wasn’t kindness. It was a warning. An insult dressed as grace.
“What’s going on?” Elias asked, his gaze shifting to Emma.
Emma hesitated before answering. Her eyes flicked between Sophia and Elias, then briefly past them—toward Magnus and the woman beside him. Her lips parted, then pressed together again, as if weighing her words.
“There were rumors in the past,” she said carefully. “People used to talk about Magnus and Celia. Nothing was ever confirmed… but everyone said there wassomethinggoing on between them.”
Sophia’s stomach sank.
