Chapter 1

Maybel's POV

"What do you need the letter of non-prosecution for?"

Adrian Whitaker sat behind the desk in the CEO's office on the top floor of the Whitaker Group, dressed in a custom-tailored suit as he looked down at me.

Yet just a few months ago, he'd been the man in an old tank top who followed me everywhere I went.

The air-conditioning in the executive office was cranked so high that goose bumps rose across my skin.

All I could think about was my husband sitting in detention, so I answered honestly, "I have a relative who worked for your company. He was made the scapegoat for someone else and got arrested.

"I don't want money or a life of luxury. I just want this letter confirming the company won't press charges so he can get out."

When Adrian heard I was trying to save a relative, some of the tension in his expression eased.

But Charis Lambert, standing beside him, felt her eyes well up with tears and said sarcastically, "Adrian, Maybel Dawson saved your life and took care of you for so long. Even if she asked you to marry her in return, no one could really blame her.

"But now she's pretending she doesn't want anything and making up this ridiculous excuse. Obviously, she's upset because I'm here.

"I feel so guilty, but why should I? You and I were the ones in love before you lost your memory! And now somehow I'm the one who looks like I don't belong."

With that, she burst into tears.

Adrian immediately pulled her into his arms. When he turned back to me, his gaze was cold again.

"Maybel, remember your place. Charis is generous enough not to hold this against you, but I've already told you that she is the only woman who will ever be Mrs. Whitaker."

I kept my head down. There was still only one thing I cared about.

"Okay. Then, Mr. Whitaker, can I still have the letter of non-prosecution?"

Come on. Hurry up.

A place like the county jail could wear a person down more with every day they spent inside.

My husband, Nico Reynolds, already had a terrible stomach condition. A few more days in there would be awful for him. And his case was about to be handed over to the district attorney for prosecution.

We were running out of time.

My response seemed to catch Adrian off guard, and his expression darkened further. He gave a cold scoff. "Fine. You're an ordinary woman who took care of me for so long in that coastal town. I've always believed in repaying what I owe. I'll sign the letter."

Caleb Foster, his assistant, presented the official document to me with both hands.

I took it just as carefully, as though I'd been handed a treasure.

"Thank you, Mr. Whitaker!" I bowed, turned, and rushed for the door.

I was moving so fast that I even stumbled in front of the glass doors.

I left too quickly to see Adrian instinctively reach out as if to steady me, only for his hand to freeze halfway.

However, I did hear his cold scoff behind me.

"Running away that fast because she doesn't even dare let me see her cry. So much for pretending she doesn't care."

Charis turned and nestled against Adrian's chest, giving him a light, petulant tap. "Adrian, look at her. She got what she wanted and couldn't even bother to say anything nice."

Adrian slipped an arm around her waist and patted the back of her hand reassuringly. "Don't be upset. She comes from a humble background. It's only natural that she doesn't know how to behave properly."

Adrian stared toward the office doors, a complicated emotion flashing through his eyes—part satisfaction, part absolute certainty.

"She took a bottle meant for my head when those thugs came after me. Then, during that torrential downpour, she carried me to get medical help even though she had a high fever herself. She's hopelessly devoted to me. She was willing to risk her life for me."

"Now I've taken over the company, and she has to watch me holding your hand. She must be devastated. That's why she's deliberately acting so indifferent. She wants my attention."

Charis bit her lip, jealousy flashing in her eyes. "Then what are you going to do with her?"

Adrian gave a quiet laugh. "She saved my life. If I simply let her walk away, what would everyone in our circle say about me?"

He turned to Caleb and lowered his voice. "Draw up an employment contract. Maybel Dawson will be my personal housekeeper. Have her move into the hillside estate. After Charis and I are married, we'll decide what to do with her."

Caleb froze for a moment before quickly agreeing.

Charis's face instantly went pale. She grabbed Adrian's sleeve. "Adrian! You said..."

"Charis, be good." Adrian cut her off, his voice gentle but carrying an authority that left no room for argument. "You're the one who's going to be Mrs. Whitaker. No one can take that away from you.

"But Maybel is deeply in love with me. Keeping her around as a housekeeper will at least give her a small piece of what she wants. As long as she behaves herself at the estate from now on and stops trying to compete with you, what's the harm in supporting her for the rest of her life?"