Second Chances Don't Come Easy

"I'm back."

In her bedroom, Sophie Warner stared at the message on her phone, lost in thought. It was from an unknown number.

Normally, she would have dismissed it as a message someone had sent by mistake. But for some reason, she found herself inexplicably intrigued.

A sudden knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Ms. Sophie."

It was the housekeeper, Wrenn Torres.

Sophie set her phone down and said, "Come in."

Wrenn entered the room, carrying a tray with a cup of honey tea. With just one glance, Sophie understood what Wrenn was there for.

Sophie's husband, Mitchell Warner, often experienced throat discomfort, so he regularly took honey tea as a remedy for it.

Sophie lowered her gaze slightly, concealing the emotions swirling in them.

Wrenn asked, "Is Mr. Mitchell staying in the guest room again? Ms. Sophie, forgive me for speaking out of turn, but there are certain matters where you should take the initiative as his wife.

"You can't let those cheap women snatch Mr. Mitchell away. This tea was prepared on Madam Gertrude's orders. Please take it to Mr. Mitchell later."

In bed, Sophie tightened her grip on the blanket beneath her, feeling a surge of humiliation. She knew all too well that the honey tea was just an excuse.

What Gertrude Foster, Mitchell's grandmother, actually wanted to remind her of was that she had to seduce Mitchell. Like a prostitute, she was to seduce her own husband.

But Sophie couldn't argue against her.

She was an orphan who had been adopted by the Warner family. They had raised her, arranged for her education, and let her work at the family company, Warner Enterprises, after graduation.

In the end, she had married Mitchell, the current head of the Warner family.

Everything she had was given to her by the Warners. She had no right to oppose Gertrude's wishes.

"I understand. You can leave it there. I'll take it over to him later," Sophie replied softly, releasing her tightly clenched fists.

Wrenn seemed satisfied with her response and left after placing the cup down.

Sophie stared at the honey tea for a long time before finally picking it up and going to knock on Mitchell's door.

"Mitchell, are you asleep?"

"Come in." A man's voice promptly sounded from within the room.

Sophie opened the door and stepped inside.

Seeing the cup of honey tea in her hand, Mitchell's eyes flashed with mockery. "What's this? Are you here to beg for favors?"

A wave of embarrassment washed over Sophie. She wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave. However, as she recalled Wrenn's words, she restrained herself.

She bit down hard on her lip, allowing the metallic tang of blood to permeate her mouth. When she spoke again, her tone was flat.

"Now that you know, please fulfill your duties as a husband. You should also know that Granny has been hoping that we would have a child."

While saying so, Sophie set the cup down and walked over to Mitchell, undoing the buttons of her shirt without hesitation.

She had always presented herself as prim and proper, the picture of modesty and restraint. But Mitchell knew how enticing the real Sophie could be.

At the thought of her hidden allure beneath her prim exterior that only existed in his presence, he couldn't resist wanting her to lose control for him again and again.

A flicker of desire crossed Mitchell's eyes.

Sophie's movements faltered, and her entire body felt hot. Memories of that fateful night involuntarily surfaced in her mind.

That night had been their only moment of intimacy. Mitchell's fiery body, his strong arms—every recollection made Sophie's body heat up.

As her thoughts drifted, she suddenly felt weightless. Mitchell had lifted her and tossed her onto the bed. His solid frame pressed down on her.

A hint of shyness and secret anticipation ignited in Sophie's heart. She deeply loved Mitchell, and she yearned for him to be kind and close to her.

But since that night, he hadn't touched her again.

Would he touch her tonight?

"Sophie, did you forget your place?" Mitchell's sarcastic words chilled her to the bone, as if he had thrown a bucket of cold water over her.

The blush on her face vanished immediately, leaving her pale. "No, I didn't—"

"Didn't what?" Mitchell grabbed her neck.

"Are you trying to say you didn't set me up three years ago? Or that you didn't force me to marry you?"

His eyes scornfully swept over the cup of honey tea she had brought in earlier. "Years have passed, yet your tactics remain as underhanded as ever!"

Back then, she had also served him a cup of honey tea, and then everything spiraled out of control.

Intense disgust filled Mitchell's eyes. With a swift motion, he threw Sophie off the bed. She fell, her knees slamming hard against the floor.

"Ah!" she cried out in pain.

Mitchell's brow furrowed. He instinctively moved forward but then held himself back.

Sophie knelt on the floor in a sorry state. Her partially undone shirt revealed more than intended. From where he was, Mitchell had a clear view of her chest.

His Adam's apple bobbed at the sight. The disgust in his eyes grew. "Get out!"

Sophie's heart clenched painfully when she saw the unmasked abhorrence in his gaze. Suddenly, she wasn't sure if her persistence had any meaning.

She was truly tired of this.

"Mitchell, let's get a divorce," she said.