"How many times is this, and you're still so fierce!"
Charlotte Sullivan, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, had just uttered a coquettish complaint when the man scooped her up by the waist and sat her upright on the bed.
"How many more times do you want?" His voice, deep and husky, could make anyone's heart race no matter what he said.
Charlotte adored the way this man took charge in bed.
But alas, tonight would be the last time.
She had grown accustomed to the pleasure, yet she placed a hand on his muscular chest, her voice hoarse and her limbs limp as if boneless. "No more."
The man couldn't help but smirk, his gaze filled with indulgence as he looked at her delicate, languid form. He gently set her down and headed to the shower.
When he emerged, Charlotte was already dressed, standing in front of the mirror putting on her earrings.
Her reflection was stunning—a beauty so striking and fierce that few in the entertainment industry could rival her.
Her long, dark curls framed her porcelain skin, captivating anyone who laid eyes on her.
Especially her slender waist—it always felt as if it could snap with a single touch.
The man, wrapped only in a towel, walked up behind her and encircled her with his arms. "Not staying the night?"
Charlotte turned to face him, her eyes lingering on his impossibly handsome face. She couldn't help but feel a pang of reluctance.
They had been together for a year, their bodies perfectly in sync. To end it so abruptly felt like a waste.
But there was no other way.
She feigned a sorrowful expression, though her eyes betrayed a lingering allure.
She reached up to caress his cheek. "I don't want to either. But what can I do? Who would've thought my husband, who's been dead for three years, has come back to life? I have to go back and play the dutiful wife and mother."
At her words, the desire in the man's eyes vanished, replaced by a dark, brooding intensity.
"You're married?" he asked, clearly surprised.
Charlotte was equally shocked. She had assumed he knew she was a widow.
It hadn't mattered before, but after tonight, if they continued, she would be labeled an adulteress.
And she wasn't about to give up the Wynn family's billions for a fleeting physical pleasure.
"Yes," she said, holding up her hand to show him the diamond ring she had never worn before.
In the next instant, the man slammed his hands on the vanity, trapping Charlotte in his embrace.
She was startled, but after a brief pause, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him softly.
"Let's part on good terms. This past year has been wonderful."
As she reached for her phone to transfer money, the man grabbed her wrist.
Then, he slid the ring off her finger.
"This is enough."
*
Charlotte was still clutching her sore waist as she got into the car. She hadn't expected the man to drag her back just as she was leaving, pinning her against the vanity for one final farewell before letting her go.
Half an hour later, she arrived at Wynn Manor. The moment she stepped inside, dozens of eyes turned to her.
"What's all the fuss about?"
It was just William Wynn coming back from the dead. No need for such a spectacle.
As soon as she spoke, Sophia Wynn, her sister-in-law, approached with a smirk. "Oh, look who's so calm. Just wait—there's quite a show waiting for you!"
A show? What kind of show?
Charlotte didn't respond, instinctively rubbing her aching waist.
Before she could retort, the butler called her upstairs.
She knocked on the door and entered the study.
Three years had passed since she last saw that man—her husband in name only. It felt surreal.
Three years ago, she had married William Wynn, only for him to leave her on their wedding night, claiming it was for work.
She had endured it.
As a foster daughter of the Wynn family, she had never had much of a choice. She did as she was told.
But soon after, news of William's death reached them—he had supposedly perished in an avalanche, his body never found.
The Wynn family refused to accept it, searching for him for three years, unwilling to admit he was gone.
During those three years, the family was rife with internal strife. As William's wife, his assets naturally fell to her, the widow.
The Wynn family, fearing she might flee, had forced her to stay.
And now, William was back...
Standing before her was the same tall, cold, and dignified man, unchanged from three years ago—no, even more mature and magnetic.
"Charlotte, what are you standing there for?"
At Old Mr. Wynn's command, Charlotte quickly stepped forward.
"Grandfather."
"Now that William is back, the two of you must work together to lead the Wynn family to greater heights." Old Mr. Wynn's eyes were moist, clearly overwhelmed by his grandson's return.
Charlotte nodded, surprised at her own calmness.
Her identity had shifted from a wealthy "widow" back to a high-society lady, but in truth, it made little difference.
It was just another form of widowhood. After all, William had made his stance clear from the start.
"Charlotte Sullivan, don't think I'll ever lay a finger on you."
"Charlotte Sullivan, I will never love a scheming woman like you!"
Fine. If he didn't love her, she didn't care.
"I understand, Grandfather," Charlotte replied respectfully, showing no objection.
Before Old Mr. Wynn could say more, the study door opened.
A gentle-looking woman with a serene demeanor walked in, carrying a two-year-old boy.
She went straight to William. "William, Little Edward kept asking for you. I had no choice."
Charlotte's eyes twitched as she watched William take the child from the woman with practiced ease.
She couldn't help but laugh in disbelief. "Wait, William, you have a son?"
