Chapter 1
On Christmas Eve, the fireworks outside were deafening, but my heart had already gone cold.
My husband, Adam Grant, brought his so-called first love, Emily Lane, straight into our house.
Pointing at the dinner I had spent the whole day cooking, he said, "From now on, all the chores are yours. Emily's hands are meant for painting. She shouldn't be doing housework."
I tore off my apron and tossed it aside. Then I asked for a divorce.
Adam scoffed. "Who do you think will want a housewife like you after the divorce? Don't start trouble on a holiday."
I didn't say a word. I signed the papers and headed straight out to the blind date my mother had arranged.
When I pushed open the door to the private room, I was stunned to see Adam's boss, Charles Foster—the most disciplined, abstinent figure in the Capital City—sitting inside.
People said he always wore a simple leather bracelet on his wrist, and any woman who tried to get close would be thrown out without hesitation.
Startled, I turned to run. But Charles held on to my wrist with his hot, strong hand before I could take two steps.
The man who was always aloof with everyone else now had red eyes, his voice trembling slightly. "So you finally divorced him? Guess it's my turn now."
Slowly, he slipped off his bracelet and backed me into the corner. "Do you have any idea how many years I've spent pretending to be a gentleman just waiting for this day?"
*****
Charles pinned me against the wall. His scent, a crisp, woody cologne mixed with the heat of his skin, overwhelmed me, leaving my mind a total blank.
The man before me was Charles, Adam's boss. He was a legendary presence in Capital City.
I struggled to push him away, but his grip on my wrists only tightened. "Mr. Foster, we're really not a good match," I said, my voice raspy. "I'm a divorcee."
Charles brushed his thumb against the corner of my eye, sending a shiver down my spine. He spoke in a low, husky voice, "To me, you were never anyone's shadow."
He let go of me and reached into his inner suit pocket. He didn't pull out a wallet or a phone; instead, he produced a carefully laminated, yellowing sketch.
My breath caught in my throat. It was "First Light," my university graduation piece. That painting had won me the gold medal; it had once been my crowning achievement.
"I've known who you are since that day, Susan." Charles' gaze was more intense than I had ever seen it.
Suddenly, I remembered how Adam had put down my work. He'd said, "What's the point if it's good? It's not mainstream; you'll never make any money. Talent like yours is just for playing house at school."
Because of those words, I had put away my brushes and never touched them again. Something Adam tossed aside without a second thought, Charles treated like it was priceless.
A wave of bitterness surged up, and my eyes stung with tears.
Charles watched me, a trace of nerves finally bleeding into his voice. "I asked my mother to set up this blind date. I've been waiting for you. Waiting for you to get out of that hellhole."
He spoke with such raw conviction, as if he had witnessed every single slight and grievance I'd ever endured. It hit me right in the chest.
Right then, my phone lit up at the worst possible moment. It was a text from Adam: [Regretting it already? Come back and fix some midnight snacks for me and Emily. Maybe I'll let it slide this time.]
His message was full of contempt, like he was tossing me a bone, convinced I couldn't live without him.
Charles caught a glimpse of the screen, and the air around him turned ice-cold. He snatched my phone and typed with a stoic face: [Get lost.]
Then, right in front of me, he found Adam's contact and blocked him. The whole sequence was so seamless and fast, I didn't even have time to blink.
Once it was done, he tucked the phone back into my hand and tilted my chin up. He kissed me then, a kiss that was commanding yet held a trace of hesitant tenderness.
"From this moment on, I'm yours," he murmured. "Susan, give me a chance. Give yourself a chance."
I looked at him, the legendary abstinent figure in the Capital City, yet the bloodshot streaks in his eyes now, his desire, were impossible to hide. The way he cherished me with such care stood in brutal contrast to Adam's sense of entitlement.
My three-year marriage felt like a total farce.
As if possessed, I nodded.
Charles froze for a moment, then his eyes lit up so bright it felt like I might drown in them. "Good," he said. It was just one word, but it sounded like it took every ounce of his strength to say it.
He took my hand—the same hand that had just removed his bracelet—and his skin was burning hot. "Let's go eat first. A real Christmas Eve dinner," he said.
He paused, then added, "After dinner, it'll be time to send a certain someone a very special Christmas surprise."