Chapter 1: A wife indeed

"This is a total disaster!” Sophia exclaimed, slamming her phone onto the kitchen counter after closing the YouTube app. Her frustration radiated through the quiet morning. Every tutorial she watched made pancakes seem effortless, but after three grueling hours, she had little to show for her efforts. The kitchen smelled of burnt batter, and her once-exquisite apron was streaked with flour and grease.

She glared at the misshapen lump in the pan. Is this even a pancake?

The thought of serving this mess to Ethan made her stomach twist. Not that her husband had high expectations—he’d long since stopped commenting on her cooking skills—but she still felt the sting of his disapproval every time he scowled at her meals.

With a resigned sigh, Sophia abandoned the pan and reached for the bread. Toast and tea again. It wasn’t creative, and it certainly wasn’t impressive, but it was safe. Ethan would grumble, curse the day he laid off the cooks, take a few bites, and request his tea be poured in a flask before heading out the door, probably to be discarded later. It had become their routine since the day she was forced to marry him, one she both dreaded and clung to.

As she buttered the bread, her mind wandered. This isn’t my fault, she told herself for the hundredth time. Her mother had never taught her to cook, dismissing it as a skill Sophia would never need. And back then, Sophia had agreed. There were more important things to focus on—her studies, her career aspirations, her independence. But now, all of that seemed like a distant dream.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, snapping her back to the present. She glanced at the clock: 6:15 a.m.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath. Ethan would be—

“Sophia! I’m late for work!”

His voice, sharp and impatient, echoed through the mansion. Startled, Sophia fumbled with her phone, and it slipped from her grasp, hitting the marbled floor with a sickening crack.

“No, no, no,” she whispered, dropping to her knees. Her hands trembled as she picked up the device, flipping it over to confirm her worst fear: the screen was shattered. The once-sleek display now resembled a spiderweb.

Her chest tightened. This wasn’t just any phone—it was the first gift Ethan had given her after their arranged marriage. Back then, she’d been too stunned to appreciate the gesture, but over time, the phone had become a symbol of their entrained connection.

Repairing an iPhone 15 Pro wouldn’t be cheap, but money wasn’t the issue. Ethan was the founder of DaeVille, a multimillion-dollar corporation specializing in security, brokerage, and financial advisory services. He could easily afford the repair or get her a new one.

The problem was Sophia herself. She hated asking for money, even though Ethan had made it clear that he did not mind. Ever since their marriage, he had forbidden her from working, insisting she focus on managing their home. But “managing” often felt like an empty title. Without a job or a purpose, she felt useless.

“What the hell is taking so long?” Ethan’s voice cut through her thoughts like a blade.

Sophia shoved the broken phone onto the counter and turned back to the tray. Toast, butter, tea. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

When she entered the dining room, Ethan was already seated, scrolling through his tablet. He didn’t look up as she placed the tray in front of him.

“Still the same breakfast,” he muttered, his tone laced with disdain.

Sophia bit her lip, saying nothing as she poured his tea into a mug.

“I’ll be late today,” he continued, finally setting the tablet aside. “Don’t wait up. I’ll leave some cash on the table so you can get whatever you need.”

She nodded quickly, taking a seat across from him. Her eyes followed his movements as he picked up a slice of toast. He ate in silence, his expression unreadable, until he took a sip of tea.

Ethan paused, then took another sip, his brow furrowing. “Did you add four cubes of sugar?”

“Yes,” Sophia replied, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “And I boiled the milk before—”

“That’s enough,” he interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “The tea’s good today.”

Her smile widened despite the brusque comment.

“Maybe put the same effort into cooking,” he added, his voice low but pointed. “It might make you seem like proper wife material.”

The words hit her like a slap, but Sophia hid her reaction, lowering her gaze. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, willing herself not to cry. At least he liked the tea, she thought. That’s something.

Ethan pushed back his chair and stood, pulling his wallet from his pocket. He counted out $5,000 and placed it on the table without a word.

“Ethan?” Sophia’s voice was soft, almost hesitant.

He turned, his expression impatient. “What now? Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s not that,” she stammered. “I… I dropped my phone this morning, and the screen is broken. I don’t have the money to fix it.”

Ethan let out a long, exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples. “That’s what you couldn’t just say outright?”

“I—” Sophia started, but he cut her off.

“I’ll send David to pick it up. He’ll take it to my guy.”

“Can I go myself?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… I’ll be bored at home all day. It would give me something to do.”

Ethan stared at her for a moment, then pulled out his wallet again. He counted out another $10,000 and placed it on the table beside the first stack.

“Will that be all, Mrs. Gray?” he asked, his tone clipped.

Hearing him use his surname for her made Sophia’s heart flutter, dispelling some of her anxiety.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

He nodded curtly and walked out the door. Moments later, she heard the roar of his car engine as he left the driveway.

For a moment, Sophia sat in silence, staring at the cash on the table. Then, a smile spread across her face. Today might have started disastrously, but it was looking up. She gathered the money and hurried upstairs to get ready.