Sophia tossed and turned in the old countryside house. When she returned to the city, Ethan kept her up until midnight. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her.

She slept deeply, without dreams.

On this nightmare-free night, she didn’t call out that forbidden name in her sleep.

By morning, the other side of the bed was empty.

She dressed carefully, avoiding her injured hand.

In the bathroom, she found toothpaste already squeezed onto her toothbrush.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she brushed her teeth slowly.

Downstairs, Ethan was setting the table.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, outlining his perfect profile.

"Awake?" He glanced up with a smile, warmth in his eyes. "I made all your favorites."

Sophia froze.

He looked exceptionally handsome today. Starlight seemed to dance in his deep-set eyes, and the slight curve of his lips carried a roguish charm that was impossible to ignore.

"Why didn’t you wake me?" she asked softly.

"Your hand isn’t healed yet." He handed her a spoon. "Try the porridge I made."

The table was laden with an elegant spread of Eastern and Western breakfast dishes.

As Sophia took small sips of porridge, he suddenly said, "Let’s have a baby."

Her spoon hovered midair.

She looked up, her expression complicated.

He had been the one insisting on contraception. He had been the one who wanted a divorce. And now, he was the one changing his mind.

"Can you stay away from Isabella?" She met his gaze directly.

Ethan hesitated. "Her depression is severe. She could attempt suicide at any moment. And our families have business ties—"

"I understand." Sophia cut him off, her voice quiet. "I can endure many things, but not a third party."

"She’s like Natalie—"

"Natalie wouldn’t call you out in the middle of the night!" Sophia clenched the spoon. "And she wouldn’t cling to you!"

Ethan took a sip of water, his tone calm. "Marriage requires compromise."

Suddenly, Sophia understood.

She took a deep breath. "Kyle is dead. There’s nothing left for you to compromise on. But Isabella? I can’t tolerate her."

He smirked, his gaze sharp. "Is he really dead?"

Sophia said nothing, lowering her head to continue eating.

If they kept arguing, this marriage would truly be over.

She loved him—deeply, completely.

She had never loved anyone like this before.

After breakfast, Ethan handed her a card. "The PIN is your birthday."

Sophia didn’t refuse. She needed to pick out a gift for her mother-in-law today.

At the Hermès boutique, she was browsing handbags when a familiar voice called out, "Sophia~"

Isabella sauntered over, her designer-clad figure glittering.

"This bag requires a purchase history. Do you even qualify?" She eyed Sophia’s understated tote with disdain.

Sophia calmly selected the required items and handed over her card.

"Is that Ethan’s card?" Isabella sneered.

The sales associate replied respectfully, "This is Ms. Laurent’s personal card. The balance is 156 million."

Isabella’s face paled instantly.

Sophia signed the receipt gracefully, waving the card. "Does Ms. Valentine even have 50 million in her account?"

"You—!" Isabella trembled with rage. "If I hadn’t gone abroad, you’d never have gotten your chance as a stand-in!"

The word "doppelgänger" stabbed like a knife.

Sophia’s nails dug into her palms, her face turning ashen.

Then, a cold voice spoke from behind them:

"Ms. Valentine, perhaps you don’t realize—you’re the one who’s the doppelgänger."