“This is all my fault.”

If only she hadn’t tried so hard to tear Samuel and Elizabeth apart back then, maybe he would have seen through Elizabeth’s true colors a long time ago.

Sophia bit her lip, a surge of emotion catching her off guard. Her chest tightened, and she fought the sting behind her eyes, willing herself not to cry. Instead, she managed a faint smile and spoke softly.

“Grandma, it’s not your fault. Samuel and I… we’re just not meant to be.”

Three years of marriage. If even an iceberg could begin to thaw in that time, surely a man’s heart might’ve softened too. But Samuel never fell in love with her. It wasn’t anyone’s fault—it was simply the way things were.

Madam Yates clasped Sophia’s hand tightly, her voice firm with conviction. “My dear child, one day, Samuel will realize it’s you who truly cares for him.”

“As long as I’m here, the position of Yates family’s daughter-in-law will remain yours.”

The older woman’s solemnity and sincerity filled Sophia with gratitude. Even if this marriage wasn’t destined to last, she had at least gained one person who genuinely cared for her. That, perhaps, was enough to soften the regret.

It wasn’t until Madam Yates finally drifted off to sleep that Sophia quietly slipped out of the hospital room. She stepped into the hallway and gently closed the door behind her. When she turned, her gaze was met by Samuel’s—he was sitting on one of the chairs outside the room, waiting.

Their eyes met briefly before Sophia broke contact, glancing away as she murmured, “Grandma’s asleep now.”

“You can go home. I’ll stay with her.”

Before her words had fully settled, a nearby maid quickly chimed in. “Young Master, Ma’am—please, both of you should get some rest. I’ll stay here and look after Madam Yates.”

“Young Master, you have work tomorrow, and Ma’am, you have a surgery scheduled. You can’t afford any mistakes; you need rest too.”

Sophia opened her mouth, ready to insist, but Samuel cut her off. Rising from his seat, he cast her a cold glance and said tersely, “I’ll take you home.”

She wanted to refuse, but before she could speak, he strode past her, his expression dark. With no choice but to follow, Sophia bit her lip and trailed after him out of the hospital.

Through the glass reflection on the window, Samuel could see her shadow—a small, forlorn figure walking a few steps behind him, her head bowed as if carrying an invisible weight. Something about her quiet, almost pitiable presence irritated him.

The two of them didn’t exchange a single word during the entire ride home.

When they reached the house, Samuel brought the car to a stop. Without waiting for him, Sophia quickly pushed open the door and stepped out, her movements brusque, her pace suddenly quicker. She was determined to create as much distance as possible.

Samuel’s brows furrowed as he watched her retreating figure. Words hovered at the edge of his lips but refused to come out. His expression hardened, his eyes shadowed with something unreadable.

“Drive,” he barked.

Sophia stood there, watching his car disappear into the night. She didn’t call him back, didn’t even try. Divorce was inevitable. If Samuel wouldn’t help save York Group, she’d have to find another way.

And then there was the child.

Her hand drifted to her abdomen unconsciously, brushing against the faint curve beneath her clothes. How much longer could she hide it?

The car sped along the quiet streets, but Samuel’s mind was elsewhere. The image of Sophia’s face—numb with shock, hollowed with dismay—when he’d coldly refused her plea for divorce was seared into his thoughts. A restless irritation gnawed at him, a tension threading through his veins. He reached for his tie, tugging it loose in frustration.

His voice, icy and clipped, broke the silence in the car. “Find out which companies broke their contracts with York Group.”

The assistant in the front seat blinked, startled by the sudden command. For a moment, he thought he must’ve misheard. But one glance at Samuel’s face in the rearview mirror—expressionless, yet with eyes chilled to steel—snapped him back to attention.

“Yes, President.”

That night, Samuel didn’t come home.

The next morning arrived early.

Sophia rose at dawn, preparing a pot of congee for Madam Yates and heading to the hospital. She carried the lunchbox in one hand and stepped purposefully through the hospital’s entrance, only to run directly into Samuel as he was walking out.

He still wore the same suit from the night before, his sharp features marred by exhaustion.

Had he stayed at the hospital all night, sitting vigil for his grandmother?

Sophia’s eyes widened in quiet astonishment. Her lips pressed into a delicate line as she stepped closer, intending to greet him. But before the words could leave her mouth, a crisp, buoyant voice called out from a short distance away.

"Sophia?"

She turned, and her surprise spilled into her expression, mingling with undeniable joy.

"Christopher?!"

Her voice carried a wavering note of doubt, quickly replaced by clarity as recognition dawned. The man standing a few paces away was none other than Christopher Quinn, her childhood friend who had emigrated with his family years ago.

"It’s been so long."

She smiled, her eyes softening as she closed the distance between them.

Christopher strode toward her, his smile warm and easy. Without hesitation, he stretched out his arms and pulled her into an embrace—broad, open, and lingering.

"It has been too long," he murmured, holding her tightly. "Tell me, did you miss me at all during the years I was gone?"

For a moment, Sophia froze, caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy of his gesture. An embarrassed flush hinted at her discomfort, but she reminded herself of one simple truth: Christopher had spent years abroad, immersed in a culture where casual embraces were as natural as a handshake. Surely, this was nothing more than that.

Almost instinctively, her gaze darted past Christopher’s shoulder, searching for Samuel. She found him instantly.

Samuel, who had paused in his tracks, stood a few feet away, his sharp eyes locked on the scene before him. His jaw tightened, his expression frosted over. He watched her remain within Christopher’s arms, not pulling away, and something in his cold gaze darkened further. Without a word, he turned on his heel and strode toward the hospital’s exit, his long strides carrying him away.

Sophia saw him leave, moving briskly toward the front doors without sparing her a glance. A fleeting shadow of disappointment flickered in her eyes before she quickly masked it.

"Of course," she finally replied to Christopher’s earlier question, her tone subdued and laced with fatigue.

Of course, she had missed him. And sometimes, in her lonelier hours, she missed the simpler days of their childhood, before he moved overseas, before she ever met Samuel, before the complications of adult life clouded everything. Back then, the world had been kinder. Easier.

Christopher hadn’t changed much in the intervening years, his features retaining the bright, youthful sharpness she remembered. She, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel the weight of time, etched into every weary crease of her reflection.

Gently, she stepped back, disentangling herself from his embrace.

Christopher’s brow quirked as his arms fell to his sides, his expression tinged with curiosity at her retreat. Sophia met him with a smile, the kind that deflected speculation, and deftly shifted the conversation.

"Are you feeling all right?" she asked.

Christopher chuckled softly, his gaze steady and direct. "I’m perfectly fine. I came back for you."

Sophia blinked, the words hanging between them heavy with implication. Her confusion and uncertainty bled into her features, and once again, she instinctively looked toward the space Samuel had vacated.

Christopher, catching her reaction, let out a soft laugh, the corners of his mouth curving. "You cried your heart out when I left," he said gently. "I couldn’t come back to York without seeing you first."

He paused, his smile deepening. "And it’s lucky timing—I needed to schedule a checkup anyway. So I made sure to book with you."

Sophia’s lips twitched, a fragile hesitation in her expression. The Quinn family home had once stood next door to hers, and she and Christopher had grown up side by side, inseparable until high school whisked him away. She had mourned his absence then, deeply, though not out of love in the romantic sense. His departure had left behind a void that took years to fill—if it ever truly had.

Her gaze shifted again and caught the outline of Samuel’s retreating back as he left the hospital. That silhouette—steely and unyielding—seemed to carry a silent message: whatever his wife chose to say to other men, he would not concern himself with it.

Outside, Samuel’s driver had already arrived, the car parked at the curb. Without hesitation, Samuel opened the door and climbed in, his face a stony mask of indifference.

In their three years of marriage, few people outside their families even knew they were husband and wife. For that matter, Samuel had never displayed the slightest inclination to make their relationship a matter of public acknowledgment. And now? Now he had left in such a rush that it was clear he didn’t want her following him or even speaking to him.

Sophia’s fingers tightened slightly around the handle of the lunchbox in her hand. Drawing in a soft breath, she turned back to Christopher, carefully tucking away all trace of disappointment.

"I need to drop this off for someone," she said, her voice composed but light. "Why don’t you head to my office? I’ll meet you there shortly and get started on your exam."

Christopher inclined his head with a mild smile, but as Sophia stepped away, his eyes slid sideways, following the direction of Samuel’s departed vehicle.

Outside, Samuel sat inside the car, his composure betraying fleeting cracks. Resting an elbow on the doorframe, he traced a slow line along his temple with his fingers, willing away the inexplicable irritation simmering in his chest. His jaw clenched once, twice.

The silence weighed heavy in the car, broken only by the smooth hum of the engine. Up front, his assistant dared not utter a word, acutely aware that Samuel’s mood was at its coldest.

After a moment, the man in the backseat spoke, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Have you found anything on the matter I asked you to investigate yesterday?"