More Than A Carpenter

Chatrine Madison had everything, an elite career, a powerful name, and a life built on ambition in New York. But one rainy encounter with Liam, a rugged and irresistibly calm carpenter from a small town, shatters the world she thought she wanted. Drawn to a man so different from everything she knows, Chatrine makes a reckless choice... to leave it all behind and chase a love she doesn’t fully understand. But in Liam’s quiet world, she soon learns that not every heart is easily won… and some risks may cost her everything.

I was laid off. Having reached middle age and lacking any special skills, I could only work as a warehouse manager in a private company. On the first day of work, I saw a large, dusty object in the corner. An imported precision instrument worth four million dollars sat there as scrap metal. My new colleague scoffed. "Stop looking. The boss spent a fortune on it. Even ten experts couldn't handle it. It's just a decoration." I walked up and touched the familiar body of the machine. "I can fix this." The entire workshop fell silent. My boss came upon hearing the news. He looked at me with contempt. "If you can fix it, I'll give you half of my shares. If not, you'll pay with your life."

Ailani Hart works as an architect for Skyframe Consortium, a small firm under Dominion Industries, owned by the most feared man in all of Denburg. With complications with her grandmother's health and medical debt from insurance, she is forced to take up a project from a dangerous man that would turn her whole life into different shades of black. With each shade less prettier than the last. Dominion Industries is sketchy; Ailani knows this. What she doesn't know is that the CEO of the company she works for is the leader of the Denburg Mafia. But the real question is… Will she find out who he is? And even if she did, is she ready to rub shoulders with the King of the criminal world?

Living with my aunt and her family was meant to be a temporary, quiet arrangement just helping out and keeping to myself. On the first day of the new year, while everyone else was out celebrating, I stayed home, enjoying the rare silence and catching up on sleep. But when we ran out of water, I reluctantly stepped outside to fetch some, and that’s when I saw him. He stood by the gate of the house next door, effortlessly commanding attention with just a glance. A smirk played on his lips, and a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes behind his blue-ray glasses. At that moment, he was impossible to ignore. Meanwhile, I felt disheveled and barely awake, my hair was a mess and still shaking off sleep. But he didn’t seem to mind. There was something about him an air of mystery that made me wonder who he was and why he was there. Before I could look away, he spoke, “Hi.” Caught off guard, I managed a quick, “Hi,” while trying to pull myself together. “Can I know your name?” he asked. I hesitated but replied, “I’m Clara,” and kept walking. “Can I have your number?” he called after me. “Just as friends.” I almost refused but reluctantly agreed, entering my number into his phone. “There,” I said, handing it back. “I’ll call you,” he promised with a smile, as I turned to leave. What began as a chance encounter soon became an inexplicable connection. He had secrets, but there was something about him that saw through me, understanding things no one else did. The man I met next door wasn’t just a fleeting stranger,he became the reason I started questioning everything I thought I wanted.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, my wife left me for the man she could never forget. "Winston's raising a child on his own. You know that being a single father isn't easy. Besides, you're both men, can't you cut him some slack?" Not only was I willing to "cut him some slack," but I was also willing to step aside completely. I was willing to be the bigger man so the two of them could raise that child together. I packed my things and left, taking the initiative to apply for an overseas program in architecture. To my confusion, she came running to me, crying and begging me not to go. Still, it was too little, too late.

After I left prison, my best friend and I opened an auto repair shop together. He provided the money, while I brought the skills. We agreed from the start to split the profits seventy-thirty. Thanks to my talent for performance tuning and custom car builds, our shop quickly became the talk of the local wealthy car‑enthusiast scene. In our first year alone, we cleared a net profit of eight million. When I went to collect my share at the end of the year, my so‑called brother handed me a check for only one hundred thousand. “The business is doing well because I became friends with those rich kids,” he said with a dismissive laugh. “Anyone can modify cars. Do not tell me you actually think you are someone special.” He looked at me with open contempt. “Most repair shops pay their mechanics six grand a month at best. I am giving you ten. You should be grateful.” I stood there in stunned silence, and anger rose in my chest. I had trusted him like family, only to discover that my loyalty had been repaid with lies and betrayal. I quit on the spot without another word. I rented the workshop across the street and opened a repair shop of my own. Six months later, he showed up at my door with all his arrogance gone. “If you come back,” he pleaded, “I will pay you five hundred thousand a year. That should be enough to keep you with me this time… right?”