<b>Willow </b><b>stepped </b>onto the <b>terrace</b><b>, </b>catching both Charlie and Heather off guard.
<b>Given </b>the situation<b>, </b><b>it </b><b>was </b><b>easy </b><b>to </b><b>guess </b>that the two shared <b>a </b><b>past</b><b>. </b>
The night breeze tousled Charlie’s hair and lifted the hem of Heather’s elegant <b>dress</b>. The <b>delicate </b>silk brushed against Willow’s arm. It felt soft and smooth. After a brief silence<b>, </b>Heather’s <b>voice </b><b>came </b><b>out </b>strained. “I’m not feeling well. Mrs. Ziegler<b>, </b>could you help me inside <b>to </b><b>rest</b>?”
Smiling, Willow nodded. “That’s why <b>I </b>came. <b>I’ve </b>been worried about you.”
Heather felt a warmth in her heart. She gently patted Willow’s hand. “Having you here makes me feel much better.”
Willow gave <b>a </b>soft smile and supported Heather <b>as </b>they left.
Behind them, Charlie watched his former lover walk away. The thought that he wouldn’t have another chance <b>to </b>speak with her like this pained him. Before he could stop himself, <b>he </b>blurted out, “<b>I </b>can give <b>you </b>everything he <b>can</b>.‘
11
The words barely left his mouth before <b>regret </b><b>set </b>in.
Heather halted for a brief moment<b>, </b><b>then </b>let out <b>a </b>scoff. “With <b>just </b>words?<b>” </b>
Willow cleared her throat lightly.
Charlie was already embarrassed by Heather’s rebuke. But with Willow listening, his face burned even hotter.
But <b>his </b>feelings weren’t Heather’s concern.
Willow led Heather into the master bedroom.
The room was vast, furnished with white and gold–ented pieces<b>. </b>Sheer organza drapes added an ethereal touch. Framed portraits of Heather adored the walls. <b>It </b>was a clear testament to Timothy’s devotion.
Heathery down <b>to </b><b>rest</b><b>, </b>taking Willow’s hand in hers<b>. </b><b>“</b><b>I </b>must have made a fool <b>of </b>myself tonight.”
Willow understood all too well and reassured her gently<b>, </b><b>“</b>Everyone has a past. But people and things that are behind us shouldn’t weigh on our hearts. What matters <b>is </b>cherishing the happiness we have now.”
Tears welled up in Heather’s eyes. “<b>It’s </b>not him I care about. It’s my lost child. Mrs. Ziegler, that child was a part of me. Losing her <b>has </b>been my life’s <b>greatest </b>sorrow. If I never find her<b>, </b><b>I </b>will never truly be at peace. Wealth and status mean nothing. My only fear is failing Timothy’s love for me<b>.</b>”
Her voice trembled with emotion. Willow felt the weight of her grief and was about <b>to </b>ask for more details<b>. </b>
<b>Just </b>then<b>, </b>Heather’s <b>secretary </b>entered, carrying <b>a </b>small pill and <b>a </b><b>ss </b><b>of </b>water<b>. </b><b>“</b>Mrs. Chapman, <b>it’s </b>time for your medication.”
<b>Knowing </b><b>it </b><b>wasn’t </b>the time to linger, Willow excused herself.
She quietly <b>closed </b>the door behind her and turned, only to find herself <b>face</b>–<b>to</b>–face with Jeffrey.
At tonight’s banquet, all the men were in formal evening wear<b>, </b>but not Jeffrey. In a dark gray shirt, ck <b>suit</b>, and tie, he had more of <b>a </b><b>business </b>look. His entire demeanor carried a <b>distinct </b><b>tension</b>.
Willow <b>wasn’t </b><b>entirely </b>surprised <b>to </b><b>see </b>him.
After <b>all</b><b>, </b><b>Jeffrey </b><b>was </b>Timothy’s nephew.
The <b>hallway </b><b>was </b><b>quiet</b><b>, </b><b>removed </b>from the <b>noise </b><b>of </b>the party <b>below</b>. The warm <b>light </b><b>cast </b><b>long </b><b>shadows</b>.
<b>Jeffrey’s </b><b>gaze </b>locked onto Willow. <b>His </b><b>voice </b>was slightly <b>hoarse </b>when he finally spoke<b>. </b>“Did <b>you </b>get back <b>together </b>with him? Do <b>you </b><b>have </b>feelings for him again?”
<b>Willow </b>saw no point in <b>ying </b><b>dumb</b><b>. </b>
Jeffrey’s feelings <b>were </b><b>too </b>intense<b>. </b>She had no <b>way </b><b>to </b>return them.
<b>As </b>she leaned against the <b>wall</b><b>, </b>her <b>expression remained </b><b>calm</b><b>. </b>
“Call <b>it </b>whatever <b>you </b>want. <b>He </b>and I <b>have </b><b>always </b>taken <b>what </b><b>we </b><b>needed </b><b>from </b>each other<b>. </b><b>He </b>wanted <b>a </b><b>respectable </b><b>wife</b>, and <b>I </b>wanted <b>the </b><b>Ziegler </b>family’s <b>wealth</b>. A woman like <b>me </b><b>can’t </b>afford to <b>live </b><b>for </b><b>love </b>alone.
“Jeffrey<b>, </b>I’m not who <b>you </b>think I am. <b>I’m </b><b>just </b>an <b>ordinary woman </b><b>caught </b>up in the mundane, Money is <b>my </b><b>only </b>true <b>love</b><b>.</b>”
Jeffrey muttered<b>, </b><b>“</b><b>Is </b>that so?”
After a moment, as if <b>carefully </b>weighing his next words, he locked <b>eyes </b>with Willow and said, <b>“</b><b>I </b><b>can </b><b>give </b><b>you </b>everything he <b>can</b><b>.</b><b>” </b>