chapter224

Suzanne looked down, the weight of her emotions making it impossible to speak. Her silence hung in the room like a physical barrier.

“Is that a yes?” Nathan whispered, his voice tinged with a raw, rare vulnerability.

Suzanne finally let out a choked sob. “No.”

Nathan’s eyes fluttered open, misty with a rare show of emotion. He let out a slow, steadying breath and stood up, turning his back to her to regain his composure. “I don’t care what thoughts are clouding your judgment, but the word ‘divorce’ is no longer part of our vocabulary. It is simply impossible.”

He paused, his voice dropping to a serious, low tone. “If there is something I can do better, tell me. I am a man of action, not a mind reader. Be upfront with me. Don’t make me second-guess the person I’ve chosen to stand beside.”

With that, he headed toward the bathroom. Suzanne remained on the bed, quietly drying her tears. She had to admit that Nathan’s serious side intimidated her; his command was absolute, and even in her moments of hurt, she felt the gravity of his authority. Yet, a spark of defiance remained.

She walked to the bathroom door and spoke firmly. “I want a letter of guarantee. Promise me, in writing, that Sally Hoffis is no longer a part of your life or our future. If that promise is ever broken, the divorce will be unconditional.”

There was a long silence from behind the door. Suzanne quickly retreated to the dressing room to change.

When she emerged, refreshed and composed, Nathan was sitting on the balcony in a wicker chair, a pen in his hand. He stood up and handed her a single sheet of paper.

The document read: “I, Nathan Morrison, promise my wife, Chubs, that I will never betray our family or the bond we share. Should I ever fail in this commitment, I will agree to her terms without hesitation.”

Suzanne read it twice, her heart softening, though she paused at the name. “I’m not Chubs.”

“Grandma seems to think otherwise,” he countered calmly, though a flicker of something unreadable crossed his face.

The brevity and directness of the letter were typical of Nathan—short, professional, and to the point. Yet, for Suzanne, it was enough. The resentment that had built up over the last few days began to dissipate.

“Let’s go downstairs,” she said softly. “It’s time for breakfast.”

Nathan stepped into her path, his eyes searching hers. “Are we reconciled then?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

But as she turned to lead the way, Nathan reached out, his hand finding her waist. He drew her back against him, his presence suddenly overwhelming. Suzanne looked up in surprise, meeting a gaze that was no longer distant or aloof, but filled with a scorching, unmistakable intensity.

“What are you doing?” she breathed.

“I’m claiming the rights of a husband,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on her lips before he leaned down, sealing their reconciliation with a kiss that was as passionate as it was profound.