Hewantedto see her reaction to that news.
If she was jealous. If she really felt something.
Minutes later, the car pulled into the driveway of his house.
Magnus stepped out immediately, not waiting for Timothy to open the door. His shoes struck the marble steps sharply as he entered the house.
The front door closed behind him with a dull thud, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. He didn’t glance toward the living room. He went straight upstairs. The stairs creaked beneath his heavy steps as he climbed them two at a time, each step sharp and impatient.
His jaw was tight, a muscle ticking near his temple. He loosened his tie as he climbed.
As he reached the bedroom, he pushed the door open and entered.
The room was dim. Silent.
His eyes swept across the room, scanning every corner.
Empty.
There was no sign of Sophia.
He stood there for a moment, unmoving. Then he inhaled slowly, deeply, as if trying to control something rising inside him. His face hardened. The softness that had lingered earlier completely disappeared.
He walked farther into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly together, fingers interlocked so hard his knuckles turned pale.
Then, he waited.
Minutes stretched into hours. Night fell completely, darkness pressing against the windows. The clock ticked past nine. Then ten.
Each second scraped against his nerves.
Still no sign of her.
The longer he waited, the darker his expression became. His patience thinned.
He pulled out his phone and opened the news again.
The photographs filled the screen — him and Celia, cropped close, the headlines bold and provocative. The comments were still pouring in.
His jaw flexed. His nostrils flared.
Yet from Sophia, there was nothing.
No call. No message.
His jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.
“Where the hell are you…” he muttered under his breath.
Another ten minutes passed.
Nothing.
His patience snapped.
With a sharp curse under his breath, he hurled the phone onto the bed. It bounced once before landing near the pillows. Magnus shot to his feet, pacing the room like a caged animal. His hands dragged through his hair, pacing the room aggressively.
“Where the fuck are you spending your night now?” he roared, his voice echoing off the walls.
