His Innocent wife

First Glance

  Evelyn Hart stepped out of the New York Public Library, the cool evening air brushing against her skin as she adjusted her coat. The city was alive with its usual hustle and bustle—taxis honking, people rushing by, the distant hum of conversation blending into the ambient noise. But for Evelyn, the world seemed to move in slow motion as she descended the library steps, a soft smile lingering on her lips from the afternoon spent lost in the pages of her beloved book.

  Across the street, Aiden Thorn leaned against the sleek, black car parked along the curb, his phone in hand as he waited for his driver to return. He was wrapped in thoughts of the day's negotiations, his mind always calculating, strategizing. But as he glanced up from his phone, something unexpected caught his attention.

  There she was—walking out of the library, her movements graceful and unhurried, a picture of quiet elegance amidst the chaotic backdrop of the city. Her hair was pulled back, revealing a delicate face with soft features. Aiden's eyes narrowed as he observed her. There was something about her that stood out, something that drew his gaze and held it.

  She seemed... different. The way she smiled to herself, the way she looked at the world around her as if she were seeing something beautiful that no one else could. It was as if she didn't belong to this city of steel and ambition, but to some gentler, quieter place. And her eyes—there was a warmth in them, a depth that intrigued him more than he cared to admit.

  For a moment, Aiden was captivated. It wasn't the usual attraction he felt toward women—those were brief, superficial, and easily dismissed. This was something else, something he couldn't quite put into words. He watched as she began to walk down the street, her steps light and unassuming, and felt a strange urge to follow her, to know more about this woman who had so unexpectedly captured his attention.

  But then, just as quickly as the feeling had come, Aiden pushed it away. He was a man of reason, of logic. He didn't have time for distractions, especially not those that made no sense. He didn't even know her name, and in his world, emotions were a liability—one he couldn't afford.

  With a dismissive shake of his head, Aiden turned back to his phone, brushing aside the fleeting attraction as nothing more than a momentary lapse. He had more important things to focus on—the merger, the upcoming negotiations, the pressures of his empire. Women were a dime a dozen in his world, and there was no room for sentimentality.

  His driver returned, and Aiden climbed into the back of the car without another glance toward the library. As the car sped away, he immersed himself in emails and messages, burying the memory of the woman he'd just seen under layers of business and strategy.

  But later that evening, as Aiden returned to his mansion, the thoughts he had worked so hard to suppress began to resurface. His home, a sprawling estate on the outskirts of the city, was as cold and imposing as the man who lived there. The silence inside was a stark contrast to the constant activity of his day, but Aiden didn't mind. He preferred solitude—it was simpler, easier to control.

  He moved through his nightly routine with mechanical precision—dinner in the dining room, alone as always; a glass of whiskey in his study while he reviewed the day's reports; and finally, a long shower to wash away the stress of the day. But no matter how hard he tried to focus on his usual tasks, his mind kept drifting back to the woman he had seen outside the library.

  There was something about her that had unsettled him, something that lingered in his thoughts like a stubborn shadow. He could still see her face, the way her eyes had sparkled with a quiet joy, the way her smile had been so genuine, so different from the calculated smiles he was used to. It was a softness he wasn't accustomed to, a softness that made him feel... off balance.

  Aiden scowled as he dried off and pulled on a pair of dark lounge pants, trying to shake off the thoughts that clung to him. This was ridiculous. He didn't even know her. She was just some woman on the street, one of thousands in this city. He shouldn't be thinking about her at all.

  But as he lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling of his dimly lit bedroom, Aiden found that her image refused to leave him. Her face, her eyes, her smile—they haunted him in a way he didn't understand. He tried to rationalize it, to push it away, but it was no use. She was there, in his mind, and no amount of logic or reason could banish her.

  Aiden sighed in frustration, turning over in bed and forcing his eyes shut. He would forget her, he told himself. By morning, she would be just a fleeting memory, insignificant and easily discarded.

  But deep down, a part of him knew that wasn't true. And it was that realization that unsettled him the most.