Magnus’s head snapped up, his gaze locking onto the screen. His eyes darkened instantly, a storm brewing beneath the surface. The calm from earlier disappeared in a second.
“Say that again,” he said, his voice low, dangerously controlled. “What did you just say?”
Gregory took another slow sip of his Americano, completely unfazed.
“Sylvia. The woman you like.” He shrugged lightly. “Turns out… she’s married.”
His gaze flicked briefly to the crowd passing behind him—people moving, voices blending into background noise—before returning to the screen.
“I checked,” he added, tone still light. “Ran a quick background check on her.” A pause. “She’s already married.”
Silence followed.
Gregory said nothing more. Instead, he watched Magnus closely, his gaze sharpening just a little, studying every flicker of his expression—waiting for something, anything, to crack.
But nothing did.
Magnus didn’t react. At least, not on the surface.
His face went completely still, every trace of emotion wiped clean. No anger. No surprise. Nothing.
But inside—
The words landed like a blow. For a fraction of a second, everything in him went quiet.
Then something dark flickered in his eyes.
‘She’s married? So what?’ His gaze hardened, a cold edge settling in. ‘I’ll take her from him.’
Possessiveness rose fast, curling deep in his chest until it turned into something dangerous.
‘Even if I have to steal her…’
His grip on the broken pen tightened again, the plastic digging into his palm, but he didn’t seem to notice.
Gregory let out a short, amused scoff when Magnus didn’t react. “No reaction at all?” he said, raising a brow. “You just found out she’s married. Isn’t that a big deal?”
His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking visibly as he dragged a hand through his already messy hair, pushing it back roughly. He leaned back in his chair again, forcing a careless posture that didn’t match the tension in his body.
“What reaction should I have?” he asked flatly.
His eyes stayed locked on the screen.
“She’s married. It is what it is.” His brows twitched slightly. “What exactly were you expecting?”
Gregory smiled slowly, like he didn’t believe a word of that. “I can see it on your face,” he said. “You’re not that simple.”
He leaned a little closer to the screen.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?”
Magnus gave a small shrug, one shoulder lifting lazily—but his gaze didn’t soften.
“Nothing,” he said.
A pause.
Then, quietly—
