His Perfect Trap, My Perfect Revenge

Chapter 9

At Sabrina's place, Magnus was patiently feeding her soup, spoon by spoon.

"You're always so..." he began, but his phone buzzed on the table, cutting him off.

Without thinking, he reached for it. The moment his eyes landed on the screen, his hand froze—the bowl slipped from his grip, shattering on the floor.

It was a message from Chelsea.

[Chelsea: Magnus, if I could do it all over again, I'd rather never have fallen in love with you.]

The words hit him like a punch to the chest—sharp, dull, and deep all at once.

"Magnus, what's wrong?" Sabrina frowned, trying to peek at his phone, but he locked the screen.

"Nothing. Just clumsy," he muttered, standing with a dazed look. "I'll get you another bowl."

But as he turned, that same pain flared again, stronger this time. His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the couch.

"Magnus!" Sabrina rushed to steady him, her worry deepening as she noticed his pale lips and the sweat on his brow.

After a few shaky breaths, he managed to speak. "I'm fine," he reassured her, patting her hand.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Just sit tight—I'll clean this up." He forced a weak smile before heading to the kitchen.

Once alone, he stared at his wedding ring, unmoving.

What did Chelsea's message mean? Why did it feel like he'd lost something irreplaceable?

After a long silence, he poured another bowl of soup and returned.

"Magnus, stay the night?" Sabrina smiled up at him. "It's been too long since we had time together."

"Alright," he agreed.

Relief washed over her. She knew why he'd married Chelsea—but now that his family crisis was over, there was no need for the charade. The shares were all that mattered.

Even if the drug hadn't worked, she had other ways to keep him.

Later, Magnus lay in bed, restless. Chelsea's words echoed in his mind, the unease gnawing at him.

Finally, he gave up and got dressed.

"Magnus, where are you going?" Sabrina's sleepy voice stopped him as he buttoned his shirt.

"Just something at home. Go back to sleep—I'll be back soon."

She caught his hand. "Can't it wait till morning?"

Her pleading tone almost swayed him—but he ruffled her hair gently. "Be good. I won't be long."

As he turned to leave, she spoke again, softer now.

"Magnus… I know." Her voice carried something unspoken.

"I know it's hard for you tonight. I mean… I'm not at my best, so it's normal if you can't sleep."

Her smile was knowing as she stepped out of bed.

"If you need something… I can help you."