Fated To Not Just One, But Three - Chapter 469

Chapter 469: Cheating
Sofia’s POV

“Do you want me to come over?” I asked, my face full of worry. Olivia had just told me everything that was happening, and I could hear the fear in her voice. I thought maybe she needed me close.

“I can come if you want me to,” I offered gently.

But she sighed over the phone.

“No, Sofia… don’t worry about me,” she said weakly. “Just pray. That’s all I need right now.”

Her words tugged at my heart, but I didn’t push further. “Alright,” I whispered. “But remember, I’m here if you need me.”

When the call ended, I sat quietly for a moment, staring at the wall. I hated feeling so helpless. Olivia was my friend, my sister in every way that mattered—and she was breaking.

A maid appeared at the doorway and bowed slightly. “Lady Sofia, dinner is ready.”

I nodded slowly and stood up, even though I didn’t feel hungry. When I reached the dining table, I noticed something immediately—Damien’s seat was empty. Again.

He had been avoiding me for days now, or maybe he just didn’t want to be here at all.

I tried to ignore the hollow ache in my chest as I picked at my food. “Where’s Alpha Damien?” I asked the maid softly.

She lowered her eyes respectfully. “He isn’t back yet, ma’am.”

I looked toward the door, then sighed. Of course he wasn’t.

Part of me wanted to ask if he was alright—if he’d eaten, if he was coming back soon—but I stopped myself. Damien was strong. He didn’t need me worrying about him. What mattered now was finding answers about Rebecca’s death, because until that mystery was solved, things could never be the same as they used to be between us.

After making sure our son was asleep, I went to my room, but I couldn’t sleep.

It was almost 1 a.m., and Damien still wasn’t home.

I sat in the living room, the clock ticking loudly in the quiet house. I told myself not to worry, that he was probably working late again. I even picked up my phone and scrolled through jokes online, trying to distract myself.

But my mind wouldn’t rest. Every few minutes I found myself looking at the door.

Then I heard it—the sound of a car pulling up outside.

My heart jumped.

It was him.

Quickly I composed myself and put on a nonchalant look so he wouldn’t think I was waiting for him.

A moment later, the door opened and Damien walked in.

He looked tired, his tie hanging loose, his shirt wrinkled.

“Still awake?” he asked flatly, his voice cold, like a stranger’s.

“Yes,” I said softly, studying him.

He didn’t look at me. He just walked past, heading for the stairs.

But as he moved, I caught a faint smell—something sweet and familiar. I knew that scent. That same scent I noticed in his office—the scent of his secretary. Then I saw it.

A red mark—lipstick—on the collar of his shirt.

I froze, staring, my heart pounding.

He didn’t notice. Or maybe he didn’t care.

When he disappeared up the stairs, something in me broke.

I told myself not to care. It didn’t matter. After all, we weren’t together. He could be and sleep with whoever he wanted. But I was lying to myself. I cared. I fucking cared a lot.

Not able to hold back, I stood up and followed him, anger and disbelief rushing through me.

I pushed open the bedroom door just as he was unbuttoning his shirt.

He looked up, surprised, but didn’t speak.

My voice shook, but I couldn’t hold it back. “So this is what you’ve been doing, Damien?” I snapped, my voice trembling with anger and disbelief.

He froze halfway through unbuttoning his shirt and slowly looked up at me. His expression was calm—too calm. That calmness made my blood boil even more.

“What are you talking about?” he asked coolly, not bothered by my outburst.

I took a step closer, my fists clenched at my sides. “Don’t play dumb with me. I can smell her on you.” My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. “That sweet perfume—your secretary wears it. I know that scent anywhere. And that—” I jabbed a trembling finger toward the lipstick stain on his collar. “That mark doesn’t lie.”

He exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. “You’re imagining things, Sofia. It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” I laughed bitterly, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. “You come home past midnight smelling like her, with her lipstick on your shirt, and you expect me to believe it’s nothing?”

He finally met my eyes, his own dark and hard. “I said it’s nothing. Don’t turn this into drama.”

“Drama?” I repeated, my voice breaking. “You think this is drama? I stayed up worrying about you—thinking maybe you were hurt or working late—but no, you were too busy fucking your secretary, weren’t you?”

His eyes flashed, but he didn’t look away. “Watch your mouth.”

“Why? Because I’m right?” I hissed. “Because the truth makes you uncomfortable?”

He threw his shirt onto the chair and stepped closer, his voice low but sharp. “You have no right to question me, Sofia.”

I blinked, stunned. “No right? I’m the mother of your child, Damien. For Goddess’ sake, I’m your—”

He cut me off, his tone cold as ice. “You were the one who said you didn’t want to be with me anymore. Remember that?”

My breath caught in my throat. His words hit harder than a slap.

“So what if I did fuck her?” he went on, his voice rising. “You made your choice, Sofia. You said you were done. You walked away first.”

I shook my head slowly, tears burning in my eyes. “That doesn’t give you the right to betray me like this.”

“Betray you?” He let out a harsh laugh. “You ended us. Don’t act like you suddenly care now.”

He stared at me then, silent, his chest rising and falling. For a brief moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something—regret, maybe—but it disappeared just as quickly as it came.

The silence that followed was deafening. I felt the distance between us like a wound that would never heal.

My lips trembled. “So you did sleep with her?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The look in his eyes said everything.