She was just the nanny. Quiet, kind-hearted, and desperately in love with the children she cared for. He was a grieving widower with too many secrets and a heart locked in silence. And when her world fell apart, his offer came with one condition—marriage. After walking away from her first love and discovering a truth that shattered her dreams of motherhood, Monet Palmer finds herself caught between a life she planned and the one she never expected. The Abbott house was only supposed to be a job—but somewhere between bedtime stories and tear-stained lullabies, it became home. Now, with a wedding she’s not sure she wants, and a man she’s afraid to love, Monet is forced to confront the one question that haunts her: What happens when the heart chooses a family… but not the groom? In this emotional slow-burn romance, secrets, healing, and unexpected affection collide. Because sometimes, the most powerful kind of love… is the one you never saw coming.
View MoreThe law office smelled faintly of leather and polished wood, the kind of old wealth and respectability that always felt more like judgment than comfort. Richard sat at one end of the long conference table, his hand drumming lightly against the arm of the chair, though his face betrayed nothing. The hollow in his chest, however, was impossible to mask.He hadn’t meant the word to come out so sharp, so final.No.It had sliced between him and Monet like a blade, and her silence afterward haunted him more than her tears might have. Even now, as he sat beneath the watchful portraits of stern-faced judges along the wall, the echo of her eyes—wide, wounded, unbelieving—tugged at him.Florence sat beside him, her presence a shield of calm. She had insisted on coming, and he was grateful. His grandmother had always had a way of planting her feet firmly when storms threatened to tear him off balance. For that, he was grateful. And yet, gratitude couldn’t lighten the guilt that pressed on him.
Monet hadn’t slept a single wink.Her body had begged for rest, but her mind had kept circling back to his voice, his lips, and the brutal weight of his words. When dawn finally pried open the darkness, her eyes were raw, heavy-lidded, and rimmed in red. She still moved through the house as if on muscle memory—setting the kettle on, laying out the plates, cutting fruit with a hand that trembled slightly.The manor felt too still, as though it held its breath with her.Meredith wandered in first, hair a wild halo, dragging her book bag behind her. She stopped halfway into the kitchen, frowning faintly at Monet.“You’re up early,” she murmured, sliding into her chair.“I’m always up early,” Monet answered softly, smiling as she set down her plate.“Not like this.” Meredith’s gaze lingered—on the pale shadows beneath Monet’s eyes, on the stiffness in her movements. “You didn’t sleep.”Monet forced a small laugh. “You’re becoming far too observant.” Carter came thundering in then, de
Monet’s fingers trembled around the document as if it were a snake that might coil and strike.Her lips parted, then closed, then parted again. At last, her voice came, thin and breaking.“They want to take the children from you.”Richard’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer. The silence between them swelled, filling the room until it seemed to push against the walls. His chest burned with the effort of holding back—words, rage, fear—it all pressed at the seams of his restraint.Her gaze rose to his, wide and wounded. “From us.”That word—us—was too much. His throat thickened, a knot rising that he forced down with a brutal swallow. He turned away, pacing toward the fire that had long since burned to embers. He pressed his hand against the mantel as though the cold stone could anchor him.“They’re just bluffing,” he said finally, the steel in his voice undercut by something rawer, almost fragile.Monet stood frozen in the center of the study, the papers dangling from her hand. “They’
The office was too still. The radiator hummed faintly, the old clock on the mantel ticked with merciless precision, and yet the silence pressed against Richard like a living thing.The manila folder lay on his desk, untouched, its presence heavier than any brick or stone he’d ever set in place. His hands rested on either side of it, fingers twitching with the instinct to shove it away, to pretend it wasn’t there. But Juliet’s voice clung to his ears, her words replaying with icy clarity.“You would regret marrying that blood-sucking nanny.”His throat tightened. With a sharp breath, he snapped the folder open.Legal papers. Custody filings. Accusations written in cold, black ink.The Pendleton's demanded guardianship of Meredith and Carter. Their reasoning was scathing, Richard was “compromised by grief,” incapable of sound judgment. And Monet—Monet was painted as an opportunist, a manipulative girl who had ingratiated herself with him and the children for her own gain. They argu
The cold chill that coursed through his blood had little to do with the freezing degree of the countryside. Something was coming. He didn’t know how, but he knew it. The air itself seemed to bristle, carrying an omen he couldn’t shake.A brisk, sharp knock disturbed the silence.“Richard, the Pendleton's are outside and demanding to speak to you right now.”Mrs. Haines hovered just inside the doorway, her face a picture of nervousness and unbridled tension.His heart lurched in his chest, uncharacteristically rattled. He had no idea why his life was spiraling into something resembling a melodramatic soap opera, but it was, and here he was, caught in the script.His back went rigid with nerves, but steel hardened his spine. “Send them in.”Mrs. Haines twisted her lips like a nervous schoolgirl, and if not for the fear shadowing her expression, Richard might have laughed.“It’s okay, Mrs. Haines,” he said softly.She stepped inside, closing the door behind her with careful quiet. Her ey
Morning crept into the manor with pale light, soft and brittle as frost. Monet was already awake, though her body begged for rest. Her limbs ached with the weight of a night spent turning over memories she didn’t want but couldn’t silence. She moved through the kitchen on quiet feet, the children still tucked in their beds, the cleaner not yet there for her weekly appointment.The silence was her refuge, and her torment. It let her hide, but it also left her exposed to thought—to the memory of his mouth on hers, his hands at her waist, and the shattering words she had hurled at him afterward like stones she could never gather back.Her gaze snagged on the flowers. Meredith’s bouquet had been placed with pride in a vase at the center of the table, their colors bright against the muted kitchen. The second bouquet—hers—sat shoved into the corner, its white petals already beginning to sag. Only the single red rose stood upright, defiant, bleeding against the pale blooms.Her chest tighten
Welcome to GoodNovel world of fiction. If you like this novel, or you are an idealist hoping to explore a perfect world, and also want to become an original novel author online to increase income, you can join our family to read or create various types of books, such as romance novel, epic reading, werewolf novel, fantasy novel, history novel and so on. If you are a reader, high quality novels can be selected here. If you are an author, you can obtain more inspiration from others to create more brilliant works, what's more, your works on our platform will catch more attention and win more admiration from readers.
Comments