CHAPTER 4 – A STRONG-WILLED WOMAN

CHAPTER 4 – A STRONG-WILLED WOMAN

That afternoon, Chatrine really did go home with Liam. She drove her own car, following his pickup truck toward the village.

The decision was completely insane. In truth, Chatrine had never planned to work at the gallery. She had only brought a few changes of clothes.

There was no solid plan.

No long preparation.

Yet Chatrine Madison felt even more challenged.

Even as she drove along rural roads, she handled her expensive black sedan with the elegance of a New Yorker, steadily following Liam’s pickup from behind. Rice fields, farmland, and stone houses of Canterbury stretched across her view. It was a sharp contrast to the glowing lights of Manhattan that usually framed her life.

“Chatrine Madison, welcome to your new battle,” she murmured to herself with a small amused click of her tongue.

Their cars parted at the front yard. Liam turned toward his own house, while Chatrine headed to a small stone house that had once belonged to Evana’s grandmother, now her temporary place to stay.

With style, she stepped out of the car, opened the trunk, and pulled out a medium-sized suitcase, something more suitable for a short trip to the Riviera than for living in the countryside. She straightened up and looked at the small stone house with slightly furrowed brows.

“Not bad,” she commented, tossing her hair back. A bit old-fashioned, but tolerable. At least the doors and windows still worked.

In Chatrine’s life, even pushing a door open was something she rarely did. Most doors she passed through were automatic, and every step she took was usually met with exclusive service.

She walked inside the house, which had been occupied by Evana just a few months ago. It was still fairly clean and organized, though the air felt stuffy from the doors and windows being closed for so long.

Chatrine moved casually, unconcerned with the small space and low ceiling. Instead of panicking or complaining, she placed her suitcase in the front room, took off her expensive blazer, then confidently switched on a table lamp and opened her laptop.

The sleek device lit up, and her beautiful face immediately turned serious.

“I won’t lose to that stubborn man,” she said, typing quickly.

That very night, she began downloading, reading, and taking notes about art galleries and wooden furniture. From classic European interior design to Japanese minimalist trends, she absorbed everything with enthusiasm.

Now and then, she paused, staring at the screen with a playful smile.

“An art furniture gallery? Please. My taste is higher than the Louvre’s collection list.”

Not long after, she came across diagrams of classic English furniture and frowned.

“Okay… maybe I should learn the difference between a Windsor chair and a Queen Anne chair.”

Chatrine began writing detailed notes, everything neatly organized with diligence.

In his own house, Liam tried to calm his thoughts. He had decided not to care about Chatrine’s stubborn nature and her rather reckless actions.

But he still noticed that the lights in Evana’s house were on.

He frowned. Was that woman really not sleeping?

Or maybe that arrogant city woman simply could not sleep in a small stone house. He was sure she would run back to the city first thing in the morning.

City women were usually spoiled and easily frightened. Chatrine was alone, in an old house, in a quiet village. Perhaps she was trembling in fear right now.

Liam shut his bedroom curtains with a slight irritation. Not my problem, he muttered. He was tired and needed sleep.

Time passed. The black coffee Chatrine had brewed grew cold and forgotten. There was no soft couch, no gentle jazz music, only an old wooden table and the sound of night insects outside the window. Yet Chatrine remained focused, meticulous, and remarkably sharp.

There was a fire in her eyes. Plans. Strategies.

For Chatrine, this was not just about working at a gallery. It was about winning a challenge. About conquering a man named Liam Conelli who had underestimated her.

In the middle of her determination, she smiled with satisfaction and whispered, “You may be stubborn, carpenter, but I am stronger than any wood you can cut with your machine.”

Chatrine was completely confident in her strategy.

“Let’s see who gives up first.”

Until late past midnight, she remained seated, typing, researching, and writing notes with unwavering determination. Her blazer lay draped over the chair, and her suitcase was still unopened.

The next morning, Liam was already outside, cleaning his pickup and warming up the engine. Across the road, Evana’s house remained tightly closed. Not a single window had been opened. Liam was certain Chatrine had already run back to the city.

The fresh morning air felt good in his chest. A small smile formed on his lips.

But it quickly froze when the door of Evana’s house suddenly opened, and Chatrine stepped out.

Even in a quiet village, she was still unmistakably herself. Stylish, stubborn, and somehow dangerous.

She looked fresh and polished, her fragrance carrying across the road. A crisp white blouse, a fitted black pencil skirt, mid heels, and her blazer neatly folded over her arm. Her hair was styled perfectly, not a single strand out of place.

She walked with confidence, carrying her laptop bag as if she were heading into an important Wall Street meeting, not crossing a village road.

Liam nearly choked on the morning air.

Chatrine approached him gracefully. “I’m ready to work at the gallery.”

Liam looked at her from head to toe. He wanted to be surprised, but this strange woman was undeniably real.

“In that outfit?” he asked bluntly.

Chatrine lifted her chin slightly. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”

She saw nothing wrong with her appearance. Her voice remained steady and authoritative.

Liam had to take a deep breath to hold back a harsher comment. “The problem is, visitors will pay more attention to you than to the art I’m selling.”

“Oh.” Chatrine looked briefly surprised, her eyes widening. She even glanced at her reflection in the window of Liam’s pickup. “Then what should I wear?”

“Maybe you’re still dreaming, Miss Blonde,” Liam said dryly. “You haven’t realized you’re in a village.”

He gestured toward the neighbors who had already begun their morning routines.

Women hanging laundry, old men sweeping their yards, children running barefoot. They all paused for a moment, staring at Chatrine with curiosity, as if a wax figure from Madame Tussauds had somehow wandered into their village.

“You see? No one dresses like you,” Liam said, trying to stay calm.

Chatrine looked around as some neighbors began whispering behind their hands. Instead of feeling embarrassed, she let out a long breath and shrugged with elegance.

“That’s not a big problem. I just haven’t brought clothes suitable for your environment yet.” Her tone remained professional, as if she were negotiating a multimillion-dollar deal.

Liam’s temporary conclusion was simple. He suspected Chatrine must have hit her head on an elevator door to end up acting like this.