Some of what she wrote was work-rted, but most were her own reflections- jotted down and sketched out in the pages of her journal.


    Gwh lost herself in doodling and writing, hours slipping by without her noticing.


    Suddenly, she heard voices from downstairs—the housekeeper greeting someone at the door. She knew instantly it was her uncleing home, and couldn''t resist peeking out of her room.


    Sure enough, it was Hawthorne. After a long day at work, he still looked unruffled, not a trace of fatigue on his face.


    Gwh quickly ducked her head back inside.


    "Good evening, sir..."


    The butler and one of the maids helped Hawthorne out of his coat, hanging it neatly in the entryway.


    He strode to the dining table and paused, frowning at the barely touched tes of food.


    "Miss Langford didn''t have dinner?"


    That seemed the only exnation.


    The butler shot him a helpless look. "Miss Langford has such a tiny appetite-just


    a few bites and she says she''s full. I''ll never understand how youngdies eat so little."


    Hawthorne gave the butler a cool nce. "Alright, I understand."


    With that, he sat down and finished his meal in silence.


    Gwh barely slept that night, engrossed in her art. She drew and painted, lost in her own world, until nearly four in the morning.


    Oh no-she had to be in the office tomorrow. Dawn was only a few hours away. If she didn''t get some sleep now, she doubted she''d make it through the morning.


    Rushing, she shut down herptop and moved to close her bedroom door. That''s when she noticed a light still on in the study across the hall.


    Was Hawthorne still awake? He really was a machine-working all day and still burning the midnight oil.


    Yawning widely, Gwh decided not to dwell on it.


    The next morning, her rm jerked her awake.


    She squinted at the clock-just after seven. She still had over an hour before work, and the bus ride to the office would only take ten minutes. Plenty of time.


    She really admired Greenvale, this city of steel and ss, where century-old manor houses were quietly tucked between corporate towers.


    If it were Starfall City, there''d be no such residential pockets in the heart of the business district, let alone old family estates or stubborn holdouts from a previous generation.


    Gwh hurried through her morning routine. She was probably already the talk of the office from yesterday—if she waste again, there''d be even more gossip.


    She dressed in a crisp, clean outfit for work and headed downstairs for breakfast, ncing absentmindedly into the garden.


    Hawthorne was there, dressed in fresh athletic gear, his usually pale skin tinged with a soft flush.


    He looked like he''d just finished a morning run. Gwh remembered howte he''d stayed upst night. How could he wake up so early and exercise? His discipline truly amazed her.


    She watched as he picked up a watering can from the stone steps.


    He moved to a nt, carefully tending to it, water trickling down between leaves. Gwh couldn''t help but notice his slender, elegant fingers-his cool, pale skin somehow hard to look away from.


    He wore white, sunlight breaking over the horizon and bathing him in a golden halo. From where Gwh stood, she could only see his profile, but it was enough to leave her breathless for a moment.


    Hawthorne belonged to that rare


    breed of men with striking,


    distinguished features. Years in the


    business world, and his


    had given him a maturity and


    Mirties,


    maism that far outshone any younger man.


    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and


    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!