Joyce Monroe liked him.
But he was an illegitimate son, a status that carried a certain stigma.
Rumor had it that she wasn't the family favorite, but regardless, she was the bona fide eldest daughter of the Monroe family. Her maternal family was even more illustrious, and her own brother was already a rising star in the business world.
Their families were not of equal social standing; they were not a suitable match.
But Joyce Monroe didn't care.
Young love is always intense and passionate, an all-consuming fire.
Finally, the two of them officially started dating.
They dated for less than a week. Then, on the eve of graduation, just as she was dreaming of their future together, he dropped a single sentence: "We're not a good match."
Without any further explanation.
He ended the relationship,
and made her the laughingstock of all of Graymoor.
The great eldest daughter of the Monroe family, dumped by an illegitimate son.
His tone was cold and final, as if mocking her devotion. It tore a gaping hole in her heart, so vast that when the hot summer wind blew through, it left her feeling ice-cold.
Her first love—the one she had poured her entire being into, a tumultuous and passionate affair—had ended with her battered and broken.
Then, a month later, her beloved maternal grandfather fell gravely ill and passed away...
That summer, she was heartbroken and had lost a loved one, but she also gained a new identity:
Mrs. Thorne!
The matriarch noticed her distress and gently took Joyce Monroe's tightening hand. "Joyce, two years have passed. You should let it go."
"Grandma, I wasn't thinking about him," Joyce Monroe said with a small smile.
"I remember you two seemed to have a good relationship back then. You finally got together, so why the sudden breakup?"
Joyce Monroe's expression was unreadable. "It was nothing. After we got together, we realized we weren't compatible. Plus, graduation was coming up, and we had different plans for the future, so we broke up."
"I saw the news about him and your sister." The matriarch watched her closely, her gaze filled with concern. "Grandma is just worried it might upset you."
"It's my fault. If only I hadn't..."
The matriarch trailed off, but Joyce Monroe cut in before she could continue. "We broke up a long time ago. Who he's with has nothing to do with me."
The matriarch nodded. "It was his loss for breaking up with you."
"An illegitimate son, a nobody from the wrong side of the tracks. So what if he's doing well for himself now? We Monroes couldn't care less."
She patted the back of Joyce Monroe's hand. "And don't mind your grandma's nagging. Among all my grandchildren, you're the one I worry about the most. I'm getting older, and all I want is to see you settled down with a good family."
As she spoke, the matriarch deliberately glanced toward the kitchen, where Julian Griffin was busying himself.
"I didn't ask him to stay for dinner to try and set you two up. I just want to remind you not to dwell on the past. Try to meet new people."
Joyce Monroe nodded. "I understand."
"Don't worry about what people on the outside say. Just be yourself."
"Okay."
"You're Grandma's little treasure, after all."
Saying this, the matriarch gently pulled her into a hug. Noticing her bare earlobes, she had a maid bring a pair of new lotus-pink stud earrings she had recently bought and gave them to her.
Julian Griffin saw all this, which only strengthened his resolve to pursue Joyce Monroe.
The key was:
He could sense that the Monroe family's matriarch had a good impression of him.
They had run into each other at the police station last time and had a very pleasant chat. Joyce Monroe was a difficult catch, but if he could win over the people around her and proceed step by step, he would eventually win her over.
So he worked even harder to curry favor, successfully coaxing the matriarch into a cheerful mood.
Serving tea, pouring water, pandering to her every whim.
Joyce Monroe's attitude remained indifferent throughout.
Just then, Silas Thorne called. She walked into the courtyard to take the call. A large patch of hibiscus grew in the yard, along with many orchids and potted plants her grandfather had cared for before he passed away.
Heavy clouds hung low, the air hot and still.
"...Are you sure you're not coming back for dinner tonight?" Silas Thorne's voice was, as always, refined and gentle.
"Mhm, I'm at the old family home with Grandma." Joyce Monroe stood under a hibiscus tree, casually stroking one of its blossoms.
"In a bad mood?"
Joyce Monroe paused.
'He really is a big shot,' she thought. 'So perceptive.'
For one, she was reminded of her breakup all those years ago.
And for another, there was Julian Griffin. His fawning, pretentious behavior was physically nauseating to watch.
She just chuckled. "It's just some work stuff. A bit annoying."
But she quickly changed the subject. "Has Mrs. Zimmerman started dinner? If you have any dietary restrictions or anything you'd like to eat, just let her know."
"I'm not eating at home tonight."
"A business dinner?"
"I have to visit an elder."
Joyce Monroe didn't press further. After hanging up, she continued to wander around the courtyard, afraid that if she went back inside, she would have to deal with Julian Griffin again.
Lily Kennedy sent her a message:
[Joyce, that thing with you hitting Ina Sutton a couple of days ago... someone filmed it and posted it online.]
[Now everyone in Graymoor is talking about it. They're saying the rumors are true, that you're really something else. Even someone as domineering as Ina Sutton was too scared to fight back after you hit her.]
[They're also saying you instigated the fight between her and Julian Griffin. They're calling you a troublemaker, which is just making your already bad reputation even worse.]
Joyce Monroe replied with resignation: [I don't care.]
[I don't know which damn bastard is spreading these rumors. You're so good-natured, but they insist on calling you arrogant and saying you bully your younger siblings. That's bad enough, but now they even dare to say you had a messy private life abroad. It's absolute nonsense.]
[Joyce, be honest with me. Besides Ina Sutton, who else have you pissed off? Someone really doesn't want to see you happy.]
Joyce Monroe strolled leisurely through the courtyard, head down, replying to the messages.
Just then, a drop of rain landed on her phone screen. She instinctively looked up as the sky seemed to suddenly overturn, and fat raindrops began to smash against the ground, kicking up dust.
She was still in the courtyard, some distance from the house, so she ran to the nearest gazebo for shelter.
The rain came with a sudden gust of wind that drove the downpour sideways. The gazebo wasn't large, so even standing in the middle, she was inevitably spattered with water, her body quickly enveloped in a damp, humid warmth.
She frowned and wiped the rain from her phone screen. In the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a car pulling into the old residence's driveway.
Someone holding an umbrella got out. He was tall and slender, with a straight back. His features were hidden in the shadow of the umbrella, and with the dim curtain of rain, she couldn't make out his face, only that he was wearing a black suit.
The person didn't seem to see her and simply walked toward the house.
Just then, her phone vibrated. It was a call from the house.
"Joyce, where did you go?"
"Grandma, I'm in the gazebo in the courtyard. The rain is too heavy, so I'm just taking shelter. I'll head back when it lets up a bit."
"It's raining so hard. Be careful you don't catch a cold. I'll send someone to get you."
The moment she hung up, she heard a familiar voice. "What are you doing out here?"
Startled, she looked up, and the face came into focus.
Her gaze traveled up from a sharp jawline...
A pointed collar, a half-Windsor knot, a black suit. He was holding a large bouquet of red poppies, his eyes deep-set. He closed the distance in two long strides, and his umbrella enveloped them both.
Shielding her from the rain completely.
He had a naturally cold aura, and even his breath seemed to carry a chill.
"Mr. Thorne?" Joyce Monroe couldn't believe he was here.
"Surprised to see me?"
"But you said you were going to visit an elder..."
'Could it be... that he came to my family's home to visit Grandma?'
"Let's go. We should get inside. This rain won't stop anytime soon," Silas Thorne said, handing the flowers to her.
Joyce Monroe thanked him with a nod. As she stepped out of the gazebo, she realized the rain was even heavier than she'd thought. One umbrella for two people was a tight fit.
She wanted to huddle deeper under the umbrella but was afraid of crowding him, so she moved cautiously.
But then,
a hand suddenly tightened on her shoulder. Caught off guard, she stumbled, half of her body colliding with his chest. His body heat flooded her senses, sending her heart into a frantic, disorderly rhythm as a voice murmured by her ear:
"Joyce."
"Hm?"
"We're husband and wife. You can lean on me."
The rain was damp and cool, but his breath on her cheek felt unnervingly thick and warm.