Sophia emerged from the room, her steps hesitant as the enormity of her situation weighed on her. The hallway was wide and opulent, the walls adorned with expensive artwork and ornate sconces. Despite the grandeur, a suffocating atmosphere lingered, and the curious, almost pitying stares of the household staff only deepened her discomfort.
As she passed a cluster of maids tidying the corridor, their hushed whispers ceased, and they quickly busied themselves. Sophia's sharp eyes caught the subtle glances they exchanged, the same looks of sympathy she had read about in the novel. It made her stomach churn.
In the story, the original Sophia Sterling had been a source of constant gossip among the servants. They pitied her meekness, her desperation for Alexander's approval, and the humiliation she endured at his hands. The thought of living as that version of Sophia sent a fresh wave of determination through her.
She stopped abruptly and turned to the nearest maid, a petite woman with a timid demeanor. "You. Come here."
The maid froze, her eyes widening. She hesitated before stepping forward, her hands clasped nervously in front of her.
"What caused me to pass out?" Sophia asked, her voice steady but firm.
The maid blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting the question. "Madam, you… you slipped and fell. It happened in the dining room. You were bringing food to Mr. Sterling, and… you tripped. Your head hit the corner of the table."
Sophia nodded slowly, her jaw tightening. She had figured as much. Even in the book, the original Sophia had been clumsy, always rushing to please Alexander, only to embarrass herself in the process.
"Thank you," she said curtly, dismissing the maid. The woman looked relieved and scurried away.
Sophia took a deep breath and continued down the hall, her mind racing. She wasn't going to repeat the original Sophia's mistakes. If Alexander wanted a submissive, desperate wife, he would find himself sorely disappointed.
As she reached the bottom of the grand staircase, the butler, an older man with a rigid posture and a neutral expression, approached her.
"Madam," he said with a slight bow. "Mr. Sterling has requested a light lunch. He mentioned he's feeling a bit hungry."
Sophia stared at him for a moment, her temper flaring. In the novel, this was how it had always been. Alexander would make casual, inconsiderate demands of his wife, expecting her to drop everything to cater to him. And the original Sophia, eager to please, had complied without question every single time.
Not this time.
"Tell Mr. Sterling," she said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade, "to call his ex-fiancée. The one he's been cheating on me with for the past three years. Maybe she'll cook for him."
The butler's eyes widened, his composed demeanor faltering. He seemed genuinely shocked, as though he couldn't believe the words that had just come out of her mouth.
Sophia wasn't finished. She crossed her arms and added, "For now, I'd appreciate it if everyone in this house avoided me. I need space. That includes Mr. Sterling."
The butler hesitated, clearly unsure of how to respond. For years, he had served in this household, witnessing the dynamic between Alexander and Sophia. This was the first time Sophia had spoken up for herself, let alone with such boldness.
"Understood, Madam," he said finally, bowing again.
Sophia watched him walk away, her heart pounding. She wasn't sure if it was from the adrenaline of standing up for herself or the residual anxiety of her new reality. Either way, she felt a small flicker of satisfaction.
The old Sophia would have rushed to the kitchen, eager to meet Alexander's demands, but not her. If this was her life now, she wasn't going to waste it trying to win the approval of a man who had no respect for her.
She turned and headed toward the garden, needing fresh air to clear her mind. The sprawling estate's backyard was as extravagant as the rest of the house, with manicured hedges, fountains, and a sprawling view of the city skyline in the distance.
Sophia settled onto a stone bench, her thoughts swirling. The maids' pitying glances, the butler's astonishment—it was all so surreal. She was living in the world of a story she had loathed, and the weight of that realization was almost too much to bear.
She thought back to Alexander's cold stare earlier. It was exactly as the book had described—detached, indifferent, as though she were nothing more than a nuisance.
But there had been something else too, a flicker of curiosity when she hadn't immediately groveled.
Sophia smirked to herself. If Alexander thought she was going to play the role of the doting, desperate wife, he was in for a rude awakening. She was done chasing after him, done letting him dictate her life.
The garden was peaceful, the soft rustle of leaves and distant chirping of birds providing a welcome contrast to the tension of the house. Sophia closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of calm.
She didn't know how she had ended up here or why, but one thing was certain: she wasn't going to let herself be a victim. If she was going to survive—and thrive—in this world, she needed to be strong.
The thought brought a surge of determination. This was her story now, and she was going to rewrite it.
As she stood to return to the house, her gaze drifted toward the mansion's towering structure. Somewhere inside, Alexander Sterling, the cold and unyielding billionaire, would soon realize that his meek, submissive wife was gone.
And in her place was a woman who wasn't afraid to challenge him.