It was ten at night when Magnus pushed open the door and entered the house.
The place was silent.
Then—
The smell hit him.
Strong. Smoky. Barbecue.
His brows furrowed as he stepped inside, following the scent toward the dining area.
And then he stopped.
Sophia was sitting at the dining table.
The table in front of her was filled with plates—barbecue meat, grilled vegetables, sauces, side dishes. The rich smell filled the entire space.
Hearing the sound of footsteps, Sophia glanced up and froze when she saw Magnus standing in front of her.
She immediately set the spoon down and stood up, clearly flustered. Her eyes darted from him to the food and back again. Color crept into her cheeks.
“I… didn’t know you’d be coming home this early,” she said, letting out a small, awkward laugh.
Without waiting for a response, she began clearing the table quickly, gathering plates one by one. “I’ll clean this up,” she added hurriedly.
She carried everything into the kitchen in one trip after another.
Magnus didn’t move.
Instead of heading further inside, he turned slightly, watching her.
She finished placing everything in the kitchen and walked back out. As she stopped in front of him, Magnus reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a document.
He handed it to her.
She stopped in front of him, confused, then took it.
Opening it, her eyes skimmed the pages.
It was a detailed document—terms outlining his property, assets, and the conditions of their marriage.
Sophia exhaled slowly, holding back her laughter.
‘As expected,’ she thought. ‘First day of marriage, and this moneyminded monkey is already counting clauses instead of saying welcome home.’
She lifted her eyes briefly to him, then looked back at the papers. ‘He really believes everyone is after his money. As if I’d ever beg him for alimony.’
She took a slow breath and shook her head slightly in disbelief.
‘Even though Prestige Wardrobe is nothing compared to the Empire Group, my grandmother’s thirty percent share ismore than enough for me to live comfortably for the rest of my life. He really thinks I’d fight him over money?’
Before she could say anything—
Magnus started speaking.
“We’ll divorce after three months,” Magnus said flatly. “You’ll get five percent of my business and three villas.”
He watched her closely as he spoke, eyes flicking over her face, searching for hesitation, discomfort, greed.
