LOGINCharlotte pushed through the mansion's grand oak doors. "Arrogant woman," Charlotte thought, fury simmering as she burst through the mansion's oak doors into the crisp morning air. How could Karla say I left my work to help the maids—like I'm some simpering servant chasing their approval?I am not that old Charlotte who tried so hard to impress every Carter, leaving my dreams and my work behind. The Bentley purred under the porte-cochère, Marcus emerging with a bow. She'd refused him before, hailing cabs to spurn Carter's excess, but today? Strategy won. Take it. Own it."Good morning, Mrs. Carter," he said politely, back door open. "Where to?"She bypassed the shadowed throne, sliding into the passenger seat with a click of the belt.Marcus froze, confusion etching his face. "Ma'am? The back is—""I'm not one of them," she stated firmly, gaze steady. Them—the arrogant overlords. "Front seat. Treat me like it. Drive."His smile warmed with respect, nodding. "As you wish, ma'am."The e
Howard couldn't sleep. The bed felt empty, mocking him. He rose quietly, drawn to the couch like a moth to a flame.Charlotte slept peacefully, the pearl nightgown clinging thin—a second skin revealing every curve. Smooth legs stretched out, bare shoulder glowing in lamplight, neck bearing his red bite mark. He stared, transfixed—curves rising with each breath, softness begging touch.No, he thought, clenching fists. I don't want this. But he couldn't stop, eyes devouring her.His hand moved on its own, fingers brushing her shoulder, caressing down her arm to her waist, tracing those tempting curves, sliding to her silken leg. So soft, so beautiful. Half an hour ago, he'd insulted her, pinned her in rage—now melting? He bit his lower lip hard, warring with himself.Howard cursed under his breath. Why her? A gold-digging schemer—nothing more. Attraction clawed at him, unwanted.He yanked his hand away, stepping back sharply. Turning to the bed, he lay down, face to the wall—avoiding he
Anastasia's tray rattled as she spun on her heel, cheeks flushing crimson—not from shame, but fury barely leashed. The door slammed behind her.,Howard's eyes flicked to the dustbin, jaw ticking, then to the door. His sister's hurt cut deeper than Charlotte's barbs, "Anna," he growled low, striding after her, leaving Charlotte with a final, venomous glare.In the dimly lit hallway, crystal lamps casting long shadows, Anastasia leaned against the wall, shoulders heaving. Fake sobs bubbled up, soft and theatrical, tears glistening on her lashes as she buried her face in her hands.Howard approached, his large frame softening just for her. "Anna,"She peeked through her fingers, her voice trembling like fragile glass. "I told you, Howard... ever since your wife came, she's been snatching you from me—from us. See? She threw out the coffee I made for you. I've made it since I was a teenager, just how you like—black, steaming, every night after your meetings. And now? She changes everything
Charlotte slipped through the Carter Mansion's grand foyer; marble floors gleamed under chandeliers, portraits of stern ancestors frowning down. Spotting Maria, the head maid, dusting a side table, Charlotte waved casually. "Maria—Grandpa Wendell around?"Maria bobbed a quick curtsy, the cloth pausing. "Yes, ma'am—in his study. He's been there since dinner."Charlotte nodded thanks, veering left down the oak-paneled hall—doors heavy-carved, rugs muffling her steps. Study door loomed at the end, brass handle cool under palm. She twisted it gently, pushing in.Laughter bubbled instantly—Wendell Carter, silver patriarch in plaid sweater and slacks, mid-swing with a putter over the Persian rug "green." His ball rolled true... plunking straight into a crystal wine glass propped as a hole at the hearth. Improv golf, vintage Wendell.He whirled at the creak, putter propped like a cane, face creasing in a wide grin—eyes twinkling behind specs. "Charlotte! Caught my birdie. Join? Your swing's
The hospital's pediatric ward hummed softly under fluorescent lights, monitors beeping a steady lullaby for the tiny patients. Charlotte, white coat draped over her scrubs, stood outside Ruby's room. The door creaked open, revealing Gabriela Foreman, Ruby's foster mother—a weathered woman in her late 40s, lines etched deep from years of quiet battles, simple cardigan over jeans, hair pulled into a practical bun.Gabriela's eyes, warm brown pools rimmed red from worry, lit as she spotted Charlotte. She stepped forward, hands clasping Charlotte's in a fervent grip. "Dr. Valco, I don't have words. That funding came through like a miracle—ECMO machine humming, meds flowing. Ruby's stable because of you. Thank you. From the bottom of this old heart."Charlotte squeezed back, a genuine smile softening her fatigue. Gabriela's hands felt rough, callused from factory shifts, yet tender—hands that rocked Ruby through fevers and fears. "Gabriela, stop. You're the hero here. Taking such great car
In Howard Carter's corner office atop Carter Enterprises, sunlight sliced through floor-to-ceiling windows, glinting off the polished mahogany desk strewn with contract drafts. Howard leaned back in his leather chair, tie loosened, dark eyes sharp on the new business deal—Ryan sat across, flipping pages of the merger proposal with a pen tapping rhythm."Lock this clause tighter—vendor liabilities cap at 5%," Howard murmured, pointing. Ryan nodded, scribbling a note. "Solid. Sign by Friday, we're golden—"Ryan's phone buzzed sharply on the desk, screen lighting up. Clark. He glanced at Howard, then answered casually, thumb swiping. "What’s up, Clark? Make it quick."Clark's voice crackled with tense, hushed urgency: "Sir, Mrs. Karla Carter’s here. Barged in, demanding all recent contracts tied to Howard Carter. Pulled files already—mergers, trusts. I tried privilege, but... she’s Karla Carter."Ryan’s brows shot up, surprise freezing his pen mid-air. "Wait—Mrs. Karla Carter? Demanding
I knew I had to face my parents now. I was fully aware that I had disappointed them, and soon I'd have to confront them about it. But before that, I needed to settle a few things. I had sold my bike to pay back Mike, whose money my brother Brian had borrowed. Mike had been bullying Brian ever since
I hoped I wouldn’t have to marry Howard. As I walked down the corridor, a sudden grip on my wrist startled me. Before I could react, I was pushed into the medicine storage room, and the door slammed shut behind me. It was Howard, and he looked furious—just as he always did.His eyes burned with ang
I returned to reality; I found myself standing in front of Mr. Carter's door. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped inside. The room was bright and sterile, filled with the faint scent of antiseptic. A nurse was present, and she looked up as I entered.“Mr. Carter’s vital signs and bl
Each step felt heavier as I approached his room. The muted sounds of the hospital enveloped me—the soft beeping of machines, distant conversations, and the shuffle of nurses attending to their duties. I paused outside the door, memories flooding back of that day.As soon as I entered the room, I sa







