While Lia was fiercely working toward her debut and plotting her own silent revenge, someone else was busy weaving a web of innocence—Ophelia.

Her delicate fingers traced the soft fabric of Sen’s shirt as he methodically folded it into his suitcase. She sat perched on the edge of their king-sized bed, her legs crossed, her expression carefully crafted into a mix of longing and vulnerability.

"Darling," she called sweetly, her voice dripping with honey.

Sen barely glanced at her, focused on his packing. "What is it?"

Ophelia tilted her head, batting her long lashes. "Can I come with you?"

Sen finally stopped, turning to look at her with a frown. "Ophelia, it's just a short business trip. I’ll be in meetings the whole time, and it wouldn't be right to bring you along."

She pouted, her lips trembling just enough to make her look delicate—fragile. "But we could spend time together after your meetings. See the city, enjoy the nightlife..."

She let her voice trail off, watching him closely, hoping for even the slightest hesitation. But Sen only shook his head as he continued placing his neatly pressed shirts into his suitcase.

"There won’t be time for any of that," he insisted.

Ophelia lowered her eyes, her hands clenching the sheets beneath her. Then, ever so softly, she whispered, "It’s been almost a year since we got married, and we still haven’t gone on a honeymoon."

Sen stiffened. He looked at her with a blank expression, but she saw the way his fingers twitched—the way his lips pressed into a thin line.

Perfect.

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her voice trembling as she murmured, "You’re not happy with me, are you?"

Sen’s entire demeanor shifted. Panic flickered in his gaze as he dropped the pile of clothes in his hands and rushed to her side. "Ophelia, no—don’t think like that."

She gasped softly as he cupped her face in his warm hands, tilting it up so their eyes met.

"You have to trust me. I am happy with you," he said firmly.

Instantly, Ophelia’s tears vanished, replaced by a soft smile as she melted into his embrace. She rested her head against his chest, hiding the smirk playing on her lips.

"Then why do you always keep a distance from me?" she murmured, voice laced with feigned hurt.

Sen sighed, his arms wrapping around her shoulders. "I’ve just been busy with work. The office has been chaotic these past few months."

She clung to him tighter, burying her face in his shirt. "But I thought... maybe it was because you hate me now."

Sen chuckled softly, running a hand through her hair. "Don’t overthink. That’s not it at all."

She felt his resolve waver, and just like that, she knew she had won.

Finally, with a reluctant sigh, he pulled back and looked down at her.

"Alright," he caved. "Go pack your things. You can come with me."

Ophelia blinked, widening her eyes in pretend surprise before beaming.

"Really?" she gasped, playing the role of the overjoyed wife perfectly.

Sen nodded, laughing at her reaction. "Really."

She threw her arms around him in an exaggerated display of affection, whispering against his chest, "I love you."

Then, before he could say anything else, she rushed off to her walk-in closet, her smile growing sharper the second she was out of his sight.

Her fingers trembled slightly—not with excitement, but with satisfaction.

"Too easy," she whispered under her breath.

This was all part of her plan. She knew Sen had his doubts. She knew he wasn’t truly in love with her.

But that didn’t matter.

Because she knew exactly how to play him.

"Ophelia, pack quickly. We need to go," Sen called from the bedroom.

She smirked, quickly grabbing her designer suitcase.

"I will, darling," she chimed back, her voice light and happy.

And just like that, she had won again.