Had she known then that Galilea had discarded the cake, she would've rejected it, just like she would've rejected the bitterness of the chocolate.

Their marriage, seemingly glamorous on the surface, was nothing more than a bitter experience cloaked in false hope.

From the very beginning, she was nothing more than Tyrone's plan B, a pawn sacrificed for Galilea.

Yet, she was blindsided by the allure of the chocolate's exquisite packaging.

Now, however, she realized her preference for the sweet, uncomplicated candies of her childhood, inexpensive yet genuinely satisfying.

Tyrone, on the other hand, offered her a beautifully wrapped confectionery, a bitter chocolate masquerading as a sweet treat.

"ALL I need is another chance," Tyrone implored, his typical cold, arrogant demeanor replaced with humble pleading. "Sabrina, let me make up for you, okay?"

Silently, Sabrina wriggled free of his grasp, making her way upstairs without looking back.

The sweet fruit candy was eventually forsaken.

Tyrone felt a void in his embrace as he watched her walk away, Leaving his heart shattered.

Upon entering the room and seeing only Tyrone, Rolf surmised something was wrong.

He shut the door, and his gaze fell upon an empty bottle sitting on the table. "Have you had a quarrel with Sabrina?"

In response, Tyrone maintained his silence, refilling his glass and drank it up in one gulp.

As he reached to refill his drink, Rolf swiftly removed the bottle.

Only then did Tyrone acknowledge Rolf's presence. He extended his hand, his voice firm. “Hand me the wine."

"Did you summon me here merely to watch you drown your sorrows? I have no interest in such a spectacle. If you wish to continue this, I'd rather take my leave."

Tyrone's demeanor shifted abruptly; the strength drained from his body and his arm fell to his side. He slumped weakly against the back of the sofa.

His eyes were downcast, the shadows beneath his lashes betraying his recent fatigue.

"Sabrina wants a divorce," Tyrone finally confessed in a hushed tone.

Upon hearing this, Rolf placed the bottle on the table and took a seat opposite Tyrone. His expression bore no shock. "I anticipated this."