The next morning unfolded with a golden hush—sunlight spilling through the long glass windows of the mansion, catching on polished marble floors and casting warm glows on the cream-colored walls. It was beautiful, Sofia admitted that silently. Still, the space felt too large… too quiet… too not hers.
She stood near the staircase in a soft beige dress, fingers twisting nervously. Today was their official move-in day—more symbolic than practical, since Derek already lived here. But this time, her suitcases sat by the entryway like two shy intruders waiting for permission to exist.
She heard his footsteps before she saw him.
Derek descended the stairs with the same effortless confidence he seemed to be born with. A crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to the forearm. No tie. No jacket. Just him—annoyingly composed while she felt like a box of unstable emotions.
"Good morning," he said.
His voice was calm, polite, unreadable… and that irritated her. "Morning."
Their eyes met. Something flickered—something he quickly concealed again.
She hated that she noticed.
He stopped a few steps from her. "I had someone prepare a room for you. If you're ready, I'll show you."
"A separate room," she repeated. She didn't know why her chest tightened. It wasn't as though she expected anything else.
Derek's brows rose slightly. "I assumed you'd prefer your privacy."
"Yes… of course."
But the answer still stung in a way she didn't understand.
He moved ahead, and she followed him into a long hallway lined with family portraits—none recent, she noticed. And none with Derek in them. Decades-old photos of stern men and poised women, each looking like they came from a lineage where emotion was a rumor, not a reality.
Derek paused at one of the frames. Sofia noticed his jaw tighten.
"Your family?" she asked softly.
"In a manner of speaking."
His answer held finality, a quiet warning not to probe further.
They reached a door, which he pushed open gently.
"This will be your space."
Sofia stepped inside, and her breath caught.
It was beautiful—sunlit, spacious, with ivory curtains and a balcony overlooking the garden. A queen-sized bed with pale blue linens. A vanity. A sitting area. Everything elegant, feminine, perfect.
Too perfect.
"Did you… design this?" she asked.
"No," he replied. "But I oversaw it."
Oversaw it.
So formal. So distant.
She nodded slowly. "It's lovely. Thank you."
He stood with his hands in his pockets. "I want us to keep things as comfortable as possible. Whatever you need, just let the staff know."
"The staff," she murmured. "Not you?"
He froze for the slightest second. "If it's something important, you can come to me."
Sofia swallowed the unexpected disappointment. "Right."
There was a beat of silence between them—charged, uncertain.
Then Derek cleared his throat. "There will be a dinner tonight. My board members want to meet my wife."
She blinked. "Tonight? Already?"
"The news of the marriage spread faster than expected," Derek said, looking away. "Investors like… stability."
"So I'm stability?"
She didn't mean for it to sound wounded. But it did.
His eyes met hers sharply. "You're much more than that."
The room went still.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
For a moment, she wondered what he wasn't saying.
But then Derek stepped back. "You should rest. I'll be in my study if you need anything."
And with that, he left.
Sofia exhaled shakily.
She wasn't sure what bothered her more: the walls he kept up…
or the brief moments they dropped.
Later that afternoon
Sofia wandered the mansion in quiet exploration. Each hallway felt like its own world, each door a potential discovery—or another secret.
She paused when she heard voices near the library. A woman's voice, sharp and familiar.
"You married a girl you barely know, Derek. Do you realize how reckless that is?"
Sofia stiffened.
She recognized the voice—Victoria Laurent. Derek's business partner. Stunning, powerful, icy. The woman who had glared at Sofia during the wedding as if she were an intruder.
Sofia stayed hidden, though guilt pricked at her. She didn't intend to eavesdrop—she just couldn't move.
Derek replied, voice hardening. "It's done, Victoria."
"You think the board will accept her? A nobody?"
Sofia felt her stomach drop.
Ruthless. Unfiltered.
Like a knife thrown casually in her direction.
Derek's tone sharpened. "Watch your words."
"Oh please," Victoria scoffed. "You've destroyed your chance at a strategic alliance—for what? A pretty face?"
Silence.
Too long.
Too heavy.
Sofia's heart twisted painfully.
When Derek finally spoke, his voice was low—strained.
"Leave her out of this."
Sofia didn't hear the rest. She walked away quickly, her vision blurring.
Hours later – Preparing for the dinner
Sofia stood before the mirror in a champagne-colored silk dress. Elegant, soft, flowing. She looked beautiful… and yet she felt small, fragile, breakable.
She remembered Victoria's words.
A nobody.
A pretty face.
A reckless decision.
The door knocked once.
Then Derek's voice.
"Sofia? May I come in?"
She hesitated. "Yes."
He stepped inside—and stopped dead.
His eyes swept over her, slowly, as if he was afraid to blink.
"You…"
He swallowed.
"You look—breathtaking."
Heat crept up her neck. "Thank you."
He stepped closer, adjusting his cuff links to hide his tension.
"Are you nervous?"
"Maybe a little," she admitted. "I just… want to make a good impression."
"You will."
His voice softened.
"You always do."
She searched his expression. Was that sincerity? Admiration? Something more?
Before she could speak, he offered his arm.
"Shall we?"
She hesitated only a second before placing her hand in his.
His arm was warm. Solid.
Safe.
A strange shiver ran through her.
As they walked, he leaned slightly toward her and whispered, almost too quietly:
"Whatever anyone says tonight… you're not alone."
Her heart stuttered.
But she didn't know that dinner would become the night everything changed—the night a single misunderstanding would ignite the first real crack in their fragile marriage.
And neither of them was ready for what waited on the other side.