Seeing them so close. Celia clinging to him like that.
The pieces fell together too easily.
“So…” Sophia said slowly. Her voice tightened despite her effort to keep it steady. “She’s his ex-girlfriend?”
The words tasted bitter on her tongue.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “No wonder,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Every time we got close… he kept saying he isn’t interested in me.”
Elias studied her face, noticing the tension he wasn’t used to seeing on her. “Sophia,” he asked carefully, “are you… concerned about something?”
Her eyes flickered back to him. She forced a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“No,” she said quietly. “Just something I forgot to take care of.”
She stepped back. “I’ll have dinner with you guys later.”
Before anyone could stop her, Sophia turned and walked away, her steps quickening as she left the restaurant.
***
Outside, Magnus stormed across the street toward his car, his strides long and aggressive. His jaw was locked tight, veins standing out at his temple, fury burning in his eyes.
Behind him, Timothy hurried after him, struggling to manage Celia, who was half-drunk and barely walking straight. She leaned heavily against him, mumbling, forcing Timothy to practically drag her along as they rushed to keep up.
Magnus didn’t slow down.
He didn’t even look back once.
The moment he reached the car, he stopped.
Then he spun around—
BAM.
His fist crashed into the boundary wall, the impact cracking through the quiet night.
“She’smywife!” he snarled, his voice rough with fury. “And she’s out there riding in another man’s goddamn car. Taking gifts—smiling at him, laughing like our marriage doesn’t even fucking exist?”
His chest rose and fell violently.
“And with me?” His voice dropped, edged with something uglier. “She bolts the second she wakes up. Can’t even stand sleeping in the same fucking bed with me?”
A harsh, angry laugh tore from his throat.
“Damn it!”
He wrenched the car door open and shoved himself inside. The door slammed shut, metal rattling from the force. A heartbeat later, the locks snapped into place.
The engine roared to life.
Timothy froze, surprise flashing across his face as he struggled to keep Celia upright. She was barely conscious, her weight sagging against him as he dragged her closer to the car.
He stepped up to the driver’s side and bent slightly, peering through the window.
“Mr. Graves?” he called cautiously. “Uh… Miss Thompson can’t drive. She’s very drunk.”
He reached for the door handle, intending to help Celia inside.
