His shoulders were tense, his steps sharp, restless energy building with every turn.
“A husband…” he murmured, voice low, almost disbelieving.
What kind of man could hide her like this?
His mind ran through names, faces, families—anyone who could be connected to her. But nothing fit. Nothing clicked.
That only made his frustration worse.
With a sudden motion, he yanked the cigarette from his mouth and crushed it hard against the wall. Ash scattered to the floor as he flicked the rest aside carelessly, not even sparing it a glance.
“God fucking damn it!”
He turned sharply, strides quick and decisive now, striding back to his desk.
He grabbed his phone, his wallet, his car keys—movements abrupt, impatient. His chest was rising and falling heavily.
Then he turned and stormed out.
Two hours later, his car pulled to a stop outside Sylvia’s house.
The evening had already begun to fall, the sky dimming into soft darkness. Cool air brushed against his face as he stepped out, carrying the faint chill of the night.
He wasn’t dressed in a suit anymore. After a quick shower, he’d thrown on a plain T-shirt and jeans. His hair was still slightly damp from a rushed shower—unstyled, careless.
In his hand was a large white box, a neat bow tied on top.
He stared at the house for a moment, standing still.
But the restless tension in his chest only grew stronger, burning him from inside.
He exhaled sharply.
His grip tightened around the box. Without another thought, he strode forward. His long strides ate up the distance quickly as he reached her door. Without hesitation, he pressed the doorbell.
The sound echoed inside.
A few seconds later, the door opened.
Sophia stepped out, pausing as she looked up—
And froze.
Her brows drew together immediately, a frown forming.
But then her eyes shifted… taking him in.
The casual clothes. The damp hair. The… unusual version of him.
Something flickered in her eyes.
Her heartbeat stumbled, the reaction hitting her before she could stop it. The feeling she had buried for so long surged up again, sudden and overwhelming. Her chest tightened, breath catching as the intensity doubled, forcing her to press a hand lightly against her chest.
“What are you doing here, Mr. Graves?” she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.
Magnus didn’t answer.
He simply stepped forward and walked right past her, entering her house.
