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Cyril stumbled to his feet, his steps slightly unsteady as he made his way toward the door. Standing outside, in a champagne-colored evening gown, was Sofia. Cyril's eyes flickered with surprise. It was Sofia. "I came to check on you," she said, casually holding a designer gift box in one hand. Cyril stepped aside to let her in, but his brow remained furrowed, his face still tight with tension. Inside the living room, Sofia gracefully settled onto the sofa, her gaze sweeping the room like she owned the place. She seemed to think of herself as the lady of the house. "I heard you and Viviane got a divorce," she said lightly, as if discussing something as trivial as the weather. Cyril barely acknowledged her, offering only a quiet grunt before pouring her a glass of water. "You know,"