Sophia gazed out the window, her eyes tracing the raindrops sliding down the glass. Three years. Three long years since she'd married Ethan, the man who'd promised to love and cherish her. But love had never been part of their equation.

Their marriage was a contract, a business arrangement between their families. Ethan's family needed Sophia's father's influence, and Sophia's family needed Ethan's wealth. She'd been a pawn, a mere commodity exchanged for power.

"Sophia, where's my tie?" Ethan's voice cut through her thoughts.

She turned, forcing a smile. "In the closet, Ethan. Where it always is."

He strode into the room, his eyes scanning the space without acknowledging her presence. "I'm running late. See you at dinner."

Sophia watched him leave, feeling the familiar ache in her chest. She'd loved him once, or thought she had. But Ethan's indifference had slowly suffocated her feelings.

As she began to dress for dinner, Sophia's thoughts drifted to the "white moonlight" – Ethan's mistress, Rachel. Rumors swirled about their affair, but Sophia had never confronted Ethan. What was the point? He'd only deny it.

Tonight would be like every other night: polite conversation, fake smiles, and a deepening sense of despair.