The grand reception was a whirlwind of forced smiles, fake congratulations, and the suffocating weight of expectation. Sophia had played her role perfectly, laughing at jokes she didn't find funny and enduring Liam's occasional smirk as though they were a couple madly in love.
But now, as the night drew to a close, reality loomed before her.
Their shared penthouse suite was luxurious, every detail screaming wealth and power. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the city's skyline glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows. But despite its beauty, the room felt more like a prison.
Sophia stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching Liam loosen his tie. His jacket was already discarded on the back of a chair, leaving him in just his crisp white shirt, the top buttons undone. He didn't seem fazed by her presence, nor did he make any effort to speak.
"You don't plan on saying anything, do you?" Sophia finally broke the silence, her tone sharp.
Liam glanced at her, his expression calm but distant. "What is there to say? You take the bedroom. I'll take the couch. Simple enough."
She blinked, momentarily surprised by his disinterest. "How chivalrous of you."
He walked over to the minibar, pouring himself a drink. "Don't mistake this for kindness. I just don't feel like dealing with you tonight."
His words stung more than they should have, but she refused to let him see it. "Good. I wouldn't want you anywhere near me."
Liam raised his glass in a mock toast. "Perfect. Then we're already off to a great start."
As he sank into the couch with a satisfied smirk, Sophia stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
This wasn't just a marriage—it was a battlefield. And she refused to be the one to surrender.