Chapter 2

Sophia's POV

The next morning, I was woken by a commotion.

I pushed open my door to find several servants going in and out, packing up everything that belonged to me from the master bedroom and tossing it outside.

Clothes, books, and the medical notes I used for research. Scattered everywhere on the floor.

Clara stood at the master bedroom doorway wearing an oversized men's shirt, Evan's shirt, leaning lazily against the frame with a cup of hot milk in her hand.

"Sophia, I'm so sorry." Clara wore a victor's smile, though her eyes were full of provocation. "Evan said the guest room mattress was too hard. I don't sleep well, so he insisted I take the master bedroom. I had the servants clear out your things first."

So brazenly entitled.

I calmly observed the mess on the floor, feeling no hysterical anger. My heart had died completely last night. Not even a ripple could disturb it now.

"It's fine. I was planning to move out anyway."

I spoke flatly and moved forward to collect my things.

As I bent down, my gaze suddenly froze. In the corner, an exquisite glass hourglass lay shattered in pieces, its blue sand spilled across the floor.

Three years ago, on our wedding day, Evan had casually bought that and tossed it to me. To him, it was just a dismissive gesture to placate me. But to me, it was the only keepsake in my barren marriage.

"Oops, a servant accidentally knocked it over." Clara walked over and looked down at me haughtily, then lifted her foot and ground the blue sand beneath her slipper. "It's just a cheap hourglass. Someone as sophisticated as Miss Sophia surely wouldn't mind, right?"

My fingers clenched tight, nails digging deep into the wound on my palm. The pain was excruciating.

I took a deep breath, straightened up, and was about to step past Clara when I heard steady footsteps coming from the stairway.

Evan walked up carrying a freshly made breakfast. Seeing the scattered belongings and the two of us standing there in confrontation, his brow furrowed instantly into a knot.

"Sophia, what are you doing?" He questioned coldly, striding forward and pulling Clara behind him protectively.

"Evan, don't be angry." Clara immediately adopted a frightened expression, her eyes reddening. "Miss Sophia is probably upset that I took her room. She was just venting at me. It's all my fault. I should just stay in the guest room."

"Don't you dare." Evan's gaze turned glacial as he stared at me coldly. "Clara just returned and her health is poor. She should have the master bedroom. If you're unhappy, go live somewhere else."

"That's exactly what I intend to do."

My tone was surprisingly calm. I didn't argue. I turned and pulled another freshly printed divorce agreement from my bag, placing it in front of Evan.

"Yesterday's copy got dirty. This is a new one." I looked directly into Evan's unfathomable eyes and said coldly, "I've already signed it. I'm leaving with nothing, not taking a penny from the family. Let's finalize the divorce this afternoon."

Evan's gaze fell on the divorce papers. His pupils contracted sharply.

Then a mocking sneer crept across his lips. His long fingers gripped the agreement, and without even glancing at it, he tore it in half right in front of me.

The white paper scraps fluttered down, mingling with the shattered hourglass on the floor.

"Sophia, what game are you playing now?" Evan stepped closer, his tall frame radiating overwhelming pressure. "You schemed your way into marrying me, and now that Clara's back, you're using divorce to threaten me?"

"I didn't."

"Shut up!" Evan suddenly grabbed my chin, his grip so tight it felt like he'd crush my jaw. "I'm warning you. Without my permission, you can't use the title of Mrs. Blake to remarry someone else. For the rest of your life, you'll stay in this family and atone for what you did!"

With that, he released me roughly, put his arm around Clara, and turned back into the master bedroom.

The door slammed shut, severing me from everything inside.

I stood there for a long time, so long that the stomach cramps surged back like a tide. I clutched my abdomen and slowly crouched down, picking up the torn divorce papers piece by piece, clutching them tightly in my palm.

Atone?

I'd loved him for ten years. I'd saved his grandfather's life. For him, I gave up opportunities to study abroad. What crime had I committed to deserve being trampled like this?