Fated To Not Just One But Three novel 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.

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