Chapter 2

I'd met Margaret a few years back at a social event with my parents.

She wore a stunning red gown, blonde curls cascading lazily over her left shoulder. Her slender fingers twirled a wine glass with effortless grace as she took a delicate sip—every movement pure elegance.

Margaret's demeanor reminded me of my mom's, so I couldn't help stealing a few extra glances.

That night, hardly anyone bothered stopping by the Quinns' table.

Maybe out of politeness, or maybe I just couldn't stand seeing them isolated, but I found myself walking over to strike up a conversation with Margaret.

Every gesture was poised and refined, radiating a warmth that drew you in. She was nothing like the nouveau riche people gossiped about.

Margaret, abandoned by everyone else, was like a lone Christmas Rose blooming in the snow—striking and beautiful in her solitude.

A few months after I returned home, my parents and I organized an auction with one of the country's top auctioneers.

One piece up for bid was a portrait I'd painted of Margaret, though I'd intentionally blurred her features, leaving her face shrouded in soft, mysterious haze.

Under the auctioneer's guidance, my painting sold for the highest price of the night.

During a press interview after the auction, I shared my inspiration.

People in our social circle started speculating about my connection to Margaret, and soon enough, she invited me out.

She was also curious how she'd become my muse.

"I think it's your unique quality, Mrs. Quinn. Even after one brief encounter, you left such a deep impression—like a muse to an artist," I said honestly.

Margaret smiled gently, as if my words genuinely amused her.

So Margaret could smile like that.

A few days later, someone dug up an old blog post I'd supposedly written years ago on a foreign site.

The post read: [Longing for him, yet he remains forever out of reach.]

The picture was one of my paintings—a man shown only in profile, but his figure and features bore an uncanny resemblance to Andrew.

This time, I lied. The painting was actually done two days ago, and I'd made up the caption today.

The gossip magazines exploded with scandalous headlines about Andrew and me.

Every magazine cover claimed I was playing the mother-in-law card to chase after him.

I knew Andrew would jump in to clear things up any second.

So I beat him to it and went public with my "long-standing feelings" for Andrew.

That night, Andrew's account popped up online.

I thought he'd clear things up immediately, but instead, he deactivated his account.

Later, my parents got a call from Margaret. They locked themselves in their room and talked forever.

To this day, I still didn't know what they discussed that night.

All I knew was I'd be planning my wedding to Andrew—we'd marry in a year.

Andrew, the hopeless romantic, nearly had a blowout with Margaret over the wedding.

He didn't even show up to our engagement party.

But Margaret had made up her mind—I was her future daughter-in-law, and she wouldn't let Andrew ruin it.

After the engagement, the Quinns wired over a massive sum, instantly solving our family's financial crisis.

Now that I'd achieved my goal, the weight on my chest vanished. I let out a long, relieved breath.

But my parents just sat on the couch, looking downcast and troubled.

My mom took my hand, eyes brimming with tears.

"Charlotte, you've been through so much today. Maybe this is our fault," she said, voice trembling.

I squeezed her hand back, my other hand stroking hers in slow, soothing motions.

"You didn't do anything wrong, so don't feel guilty. This was my decision—I just chose the best path forward for myself."

My dad sat beside me, and for once, his usually stoic face cracked—he actually choked up.

"Sweetheart, we always thought no one in this world was good enough for you. But while planning your wedding, I suddenly pictured walking you down the aisle toward the man you truly love. The way he'd look at you—like he loves you as much as your mom and I do. If that were true, he'd make you just as happy as we could... not like what happened today."

Warmth spread through my chest. "I know you've never forced me to do anything I didn't want. When I was little and wasn't into traditional culture classes, you took me around the world to experience different cultures and landscapes. After all those trips, I'd absorbed so much about history, art, and languages without even realizing it.

"When I was five and got interested in piano, you bought the best grand piano and hired the top pianist in the country as my teacher.

"When I started elementary school and fell in love with animal stories, you took me straight to meet the author and organized a trip—from snow-capped mountains to ocean depths. I got to talk with the author while seeing all kinds of animals together.

"And even now, as your only child, you never made me give up painting or forced me to take over the family business.

"Because I've traveled so much and met so many people, I've never felt entitled to any of this. I deeply understand how hard-won everything I have is, so if I ever get the chance to do something for our family, I'd jump in without hesitation."

Besides, marriage had never been my ultimate goal—it was just one of many choices I could make.

I picked this marriage because of my family.

"Just being able to protect you and our home—that's all I could ever ask for."