Chapter 1
Edward Hawthorne and Amelia Today marked Amelia’s twentieth birthday. She returned home early, slipping into a high-end, custom dress that Gerard had picked out for her. Sitting in the hallway like a delicately crafted doll, she stared, wide-eyed, at the lavish crystal chandelier hanging above, its light gleaming and mesmerizing her. Time dragged on, each tick of the clock stretching into eternity. Gerard entered quietly and stood beside her, his demeanor respectful. “Miss, if you could just hold on a bit longer, Mr. Edward Hawthorne is on his way.” Amelia nodded, “Okay.” Noticing her anxiety, Gerard added reassuringly, “There’s no need to worry. He really likes you.” She forced a smile, “I know.” With that, Gerard silently retreated, leaving the expansive hallway empty and silent, save for Amelia herself. As the solitude settled around her, Amelia let out a quiet sigh, her stiff posture gradually relaxing as she sank into the couch, her mind swirling with thoughts. Edward Hawthorne was coming? He liked her? She couldn’t help but wonder if he had forgotten her amidst whatever busyness consumed him. As for liking— Amelia had never interacted with Edward. How could he possibly like her? It had been twelve years since he had begun sponsoring her when she was just eight years old, yet she had never once seen his face. Edward Hawthorne had always existed in Gerard's words, in commercial reports, and financial news, occasionally surfacing in entertainment headlines. The memory of that day she learned of his sponsorship was burned into her mind. She remembered it vividly: a dismal day at St. Catherine’s Orphanage, where the atmosphere was thick with despair and monotony. Then, one fateful afternoon, the headmistress had approached her, eyes glimmering with an almost incredulous envy. “Amelia, you’ve been sponsored by Edward Hawthorne.” Edward Hawthorne? Who was he? Though Amelia had no idea who he was, the headmistress’s tone made it clear that this Edward was someone significant. At eight, Amelia was more mature than most children her age; she had learned to read the nuances of adult expressions, the unspoken truths behind their words. Just after the headmistress’s proclamation, someone entered, taking her hand gently and ushering her away. They changed her into fresh clothes, washed her face, cleaned her dirty hands, and meticulously combed her tangled hair into a neat ponytail. When Amelia stood before the mirror, staring at the cleaned and polished version of herself, a voice in her head whispered that she might just be leaving the place she loathed behind and stepping into a world she had long yearned for. This world, as the adults called it, was the world Edward Hawthorne would take her to. Though unsure, she felt a flutter of hope as she stepped outside the orphanage. What met her was a line of luxury cars parked grandly, an impressive sight that took her breath away. But it was the tall figure that captured her attention first. He stood with his back to her, exuding a proud and aloof air, as everyone around him showed him the utmost respect. They reverently called him—Edward Hawthorne. “Edward Hawthorne—” she heard the headmistress’s voice resonating in the air, “Amelia is here to see you.” As he shifted slightly, poised to turn around, Amelia felt her nerves surge, her hands fidgeting awkwardly. His presence was overwhelming. With an innate nobility, he commanded the space, simply standing there, drawing everybody’s gaze upward, admiration etched in their expressions. Amelia found herself breathless, captivated by the sight of him slowly pivoting to face her.
Chapter 2
**Remember Forever** As a soft, melodic ringtone filled the air, Edward Hawthorne paused briefly, reaching for the phone being offered to him. He lifted it to his ear. After a long moment, he replied simply, “Alright, I'm on my way.” As soon as he made the statement, someone bent down to open the car door for him. “Mr. Hawthorne, please.” He stepped forward, ready to slide into the backseat, but then a thought struck him. He glanced up, his eyes drifting to a distant point, almost as if talking to himself. His voice was deep and resonant, almost captivating as he murmured, “Amelia, right? Bring her home and take good care of her. Don’t let her feel neglected.” “Yes, Mr. Hawthorne,” came the obedient response. Those words were etched in Amelia's memory forever. To him, it was just a simple command. Edward Hawthorne was that kind of man—he could turn a simple day into a storm. At just eighteen, he had already begun to stand out, and after all these years, time had only amplified his brilliance. Amelia's life had taken a dramatic turn because of him, catapulting her into an existence more glamorous than a socialite, richer than an heiress. But all he had left her with was the memory of his silhouette—the figure that never turned back. The ornate clock in the grand hall chimed the hour, solemn and echoing, pulling Amelia back to the present. It was already four in the afternoon. Would Edward Hawthorne not come after all? Since the day he had pulled her from St. Catherine's Orphanage, Amelia hadn't seen him again. Now, she found herself alone in the sprawling Rosewood Manor, surrounded by Jasper, a few servants, a gardener, and a driver. Edward had never set foot inside these walls. Several times, Amelia had wanted to seek him out, only to be dissuaded by Jasper. Yet her curiosity about Edward was insatiable. She'd once snuck off to Hawthorne Enterprises, only to be swiftly returned by his assistant. Confusion clouded her mind; why had Edward funded her if he had no intention of seeing her again? Jasper often insisted Edward had feelings for her, but that didn’t make sense. Even a pet would have received some acknowledgment over all these years! Surely he could have taken a moment to see how she had grown. And she had worked hard to prove him right; she consistently ranked among the top students, excelling in dance, piano, and painting. Today marked her twentieth birthday, and Amelia thought that perhaps Jasper had informed Edward, which might have reminded him she even existed. Feeling she was finally old enough, she believed it was time to see him. He probably wouldn’t remember her again—just another name lost in his busy life. As these thoughts swirled in her mind, she let out a small laugh, leaning forward to take a sip of water from her glass. Suddenly, she heard the uniform sound of the servants murmuring, “Mr. Hawthorne has arrived.” A jolt of panic surged through her as the water caught in her throat, causing her to cough violently, her cheeks flushing deep red. He was here? Edward Hawthorne had come just like that? Just moments ago, she had convinced herself he wouldn’t show. Footsteps grew closer, and she felt her anxiety spike. In her efforts to stop coughing, she only made it worse, tears springing to her eyes. This was a disaster. If Edward saw her like this, all her efforts to prepare for their first meeting would be wasted. This was supposed to be her big moment! She wanted him to see her at her absolute best, to think she was perfect. To Amelia, Edward Hawthorne remained larger-than-life, unreachable, and appealing.
Chapter 3
First Official Encounter Amelia had her back turned, but there was no way she could miss it—Edward Hawthorne had just walked in, and he was heading directly her way. After all these years, she could still feel his presence like a shockwave. She dared not forget, nor could she. The footsteps paused right behind her, and the silence in the room was deafening. Edward Hawthorne was standing there, close enough that she could sense the weight of his gaze without even turning around. Her body stiffened, and she kept her eyes fixed on the coffee table in front of her. Damn it, if only she hadn’t taken that sip of water a moment ago, she wouldn’t be feeling this utterly flustered! This was their first official encounter, and she couldn’t believe she was making such a mess of it! The carefully rehearsed scene in her mind had played out perfectly: he would stride into the room, she would gracefully rise from the couch, turning to face him with a confident smile, saying, “Mr. Hawthorne, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. It’s been too long.” But here she was, in a thick fog of awkwardness, with nobody saying a word. Finally, Jasper came to her rescue, extending a neatly folded napkin toward her. Amelia accepted it gratefully, hurriedly dabbing at her lips and smoothing her hair before mustering the courage to turn around. Edward had watched the whole scene unfold, his expression unchanging, a cool mask of composure. When she finally faced him, it struck her just how close they were. If she moved just a step forward, she could brush against the sleeve of his tailored suit. In her mind, Edward Hawthorne had always been more of a shadow—a figure she hadn’t quite had the chance to see in full light. Sure, she knew his reputation, the countless headlines and business articles that chronicled his life in Briarwood. But standing before her now, Edward was even more stunning than any magazine cover had portrayed him. He wore a perfectly tailored navy shirt, his tie knotted with precision, a hand casually tucked in his pocket. His features were striking, lips pressed into a thin line, and his jawline sharp as if cut from stone. Even in his stillness, he was remarkably captivating. Amelia found herself caught in a trance, her gaze locked onto him as the silence stretched on, completely forgetting that she was supposed to break it. It wasn’t until he furrowed his brow slightly that she snapped back to reality. How could she just stand there staring at him like an idiot? This was beyond embarrassing. The situation was playing out as a far cry from her original fantasy! She wouldn’t leave a bad impression on Edward, would she? With her heart racing and her limbs feeling clumsy, she stammered, “Mr. Hawthorne, hello. I—I'm Amelia. You know, like in 'chilly' and 'falling leaves.' We… we met many years ago…” Her words tumbled out in a jumbled mess, lacking all the confidence she’d hoped to portray. Edward suddenly seized the moment, his voice deep and familiar, “You’re twenty now.” “... Yes, Mr. Hawthorne,” she replied, feeling her cheeks flush. She could feel his keen gaze sweeping over her, his eyebrows raising just slightly, as if he were assessing her in that way only he could. He fell silent then, exchanging a brief glance with Jasper. Jasper, ever the professional, stood at attention as he began his report. “Mr. Hawthorne, this year marks Miss Amelia's twentieth birthday. It’s also your first visit here. As per your instructions, she has been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Mr. Montgomery mentioned that you would personally present her gift. The birthday cake is ready—do you need anything else?”
Chapter 4
A Birthday Surprise Edward Hawthorne stood there, a stoic presence in the midst of the crowd. Amelia felt her heart race. The birthday gift—a package straight from Edward himself? This was a first; usually, Reginald Montgomery would choose something and present it on Edward’s behalf. She discreetly glanced up to steal a look at Edward’s face, only to find him staring right back at her. Caught off guard, Amelia's breath caught in her throat. There was something about Edward Hawthorne that made her feel small, uncharacteristically flustered, robbing her of her usual composure. Jasper had fallen silent, and it felt like Amelia had too; the grand hall was cloaked in an almost suffocating silence. “Are you afraid of me?” Before she could register how he had moved so close, Edward was right in front of her, leaning down just enough for their eyes to meet, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Amelia shook her head quickly. “Oh?” “No,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re my benefactor. I can’t possibly fear someone who’s done so much for me. I… I admire you.” As the words left her lips, Amelia noticed a flicker in Edward’s gaze, a subtle shift that intrigued her. What was he thinking? It felt like a riddle only Reginald Montgomery could solve, but even he would likely keep mum. Edward shifted slightly, his tie swaying with an elegance that matched his demeanor. “Just as well,” he said, almost to himself. Still perplexed by his words, she heard him address Jasper. “Is her identification in order?” “Yes, Mr. Hawthorne,” Jasper replied. “Good.” Edward turned back to Amelia, locking eyes with her. “Amelia, come with me.” This was the first time he’d spoken her name, and it rolled off his tongue like a promise. His voice, deep and magnetic, made her feel an unexpected pang of attachment. “Mr. Hawthorne, where are we going?” she managed to stammer out. “To give you your birthday surprise,” he replied, then without another word, he strode toward the door. Amelia stood rooted to the spot, mouth agape, as she watched his retreating figure. “Miss, you should follow Mr. Hawthorne—he won’t wait all day,” Jasper urged gently. “Oh… right!” she snapped out of her daze, hastily moving to catch up. She consciously maintained a safe distance behind him, not wanting to get too close nor too far. Together, they stepped out of the Rosewood Manor, a place known for its lavishness and whispered secrets. As soon as they crossed the threshold, Edward paused abruptly. Amelia stopped short behind him, barely avoiding a collision. A soft breeze ruffled the air, carrying a faint scent that was distinctly Edward—a mix of sophistication and an undeniable allure. He was a man of few words, a quiet force that drew her in, leaving Amelia momentarily lost in thought. What exactly went through his mind? She yearned to know, and an unsuspecting desire to inch closer to him surged within her. The name Edward Hawthorne always sparked an undercurrent of reverence, making the women of Briarwood weak in the knees. “Amelia…” he murmured, breaking her reverie with her name. “It’s a lovely name,” he said before he began striding purposefully toward a sleek car parked in the garden. The driver instantly opened the door for him, and he bent slightly to slide inside. The window rolled down effortlessly. Amelia hurried to the car, her mind racing with uncertainty. Should she get in? Was she even invited? Would it be a huge mistake if she climbed in without his explicit say-so? Fear coursed through her as she recalled already tripping twice in front of him today. “Miss, your ride is back this way,” interrupted a voice from behind. “Reginald Montgomery?” she said, turning to see his familiar face. “Indeed, Miss. It’s good to see you.” Was he here to escort her? But didn’t that mean she wouldn’t be riding with Edward? Confusion wrapped around her like a heavy cloak. Amelia hesitated, torn between two worlds—one of undeniable allure, shrouded in mystery, and the other, grounded in reality, solidified by Reginald’s steady presence. There was no telling which would lead her to where she truly wanted to go.
Chapter 5
City Hall Reginald Montgomery eyed her with a mix of concern and understanding. “Miss Eleanor, just so you know, Mr. Edward never shares a car with anyone.” What kind of quirk was that? Amelia pondered the thought but chose to respond with grace. “Alright.” She climbed into Edward Hawthorne’s backup car, with Reginald Montgomery at the wheel. In the backseat, Amelia stared out the window, feeling the pressure of Edward’s presence slowly dissipating as the city blurs by. Edward Hawthorne had finally decided to reach out, and this time, he claimed he had a birthday gift for her. What kind of gift could it be? But he hardly seemed like the type who would pick out a present for her. After all, she was just a footnote in his life—someone completely unimportant, or he would have come back long before now. And the fact that he had requested Gerard Stone to bring all her personal identification… What on earth did he need that for? Questions swirled in her mind, but before she could settle on any of them, the car came to a stop. Reginald turned to her through the rearview mirror. “Miss Eleanor, we’ve arrived. Please step out; Mr. Edward is waiting for you.” “Thank you,” she replied, her voice a mix of trepidation and anticipation. As she emerged from the car, her gaze found Edward standing on the curb. He was as enigmatic as ever, radiating a kind of coolness that made her heart race and her mind spin. Just as she gathered her thoughts to approach him, a woman cut in, sidling up to Edward with an unsettling familiarity. Amelia froze, caught off guard. The two exchanged a few words, Edward’s tone decidedly nonchalant yet somehow engaged. After what felt like an eternity, he turned to leave, the woman in tow, and Amelia watched them head straight into the City Hall. Wait—City Hall. Reality struck like thunder. Edward had brought her here? She’d been so fixated on him that she hadn’t registered where they were. What was he doing with that woman in the City Hall? Were they getting married? Or was it something worse—divorce? But neither scenario seemed fitting. She had never heard of Edward being married, but if they were registering a marriage, then that woman must be someone special in his life. Yet, Edward’s demeanor suggested otherwise. The way he looked at the woman was far colder than how he looked at her. Amelia felt overwhelmed, her thoughts tumbling over one another, clashing. Determined to find out the truth, she decided to follow them inside. Just then, Reginald appeared next to her. “Miss Eleanor, please follow me.” “Into City Hall?” She pointed hesitantly. “Yes.” “Are you sure… this is meant for me?” she asked, glancing back at Edward. “Absolutely, Miss Eleanor.” With a confused nod, she followed Reginald into City Hall. Inside, the afternoon was winding down, the place nearly deserted, the air heavy with an air of finality. Amelia felt out of place, like a bright spot in a dimly lit room. Before long, she spotted Edward and the woman emerging from the divorce registration area. Both carried small green books in hand. Divorce papers. Amelia’s heart sank. Edward Hawthorne had already been married? He casually handed the divorce certificate to Reginald, then glanced at her and said, “Eleanor, come here.” She moved to his side, a mix of confusion and dread clinging to her. Before she could utter a word, the woman’s high-pitched voice sliced through the air. “Edward Hawthorne, what’s wrong with me? I’m Isabella Fletcher! You said you wanted a divorce yesterday; today you’re legally separating—how can you be so heartless?”
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