LONELY HEARTS
Esmé's life takes a dramatic turn when she becomes entwined with Eiser, a son from a powerful family. Haunted by loss and trapped in a loveless marriage, she battles to connect with a man who conceals his emotions behind a wall of sile...
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THE HEART'S SURRENDER
"When you look at me, when you think of me, I am in paradise." – William Makepeace Thackeray
Esmé stood on the balcony of her room, her fingers lightly brushing the elegant brick railing.
The winter air was sharp and cold, the kind that clung to the skin and made her breath swirl like smoke in the still air.
Below, the pristine garden stretched outward, its paths meticulously cleared of snow, and in the distance, a classic black car rumbled softly, its engine fading into the quiet expanse of the estate as it disappeared beyond the gates.
It had been two days since they arrived at the mansion. Two days of silence.
Eiser was gone. Again.
She had expected it. After all, this was his world—a world of power, secrets, and danger that stretched far beyond her understanding.
But knowing didn’t make it easier.
The mansion, with all its elegance and luxury, felt oppressive without him.
Its grand halls and finely furnished rooms couldn’t fill the void his absence left.
Esmé pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, the chill not just from the winter but from the gnawing sense of isolation she couldn’t shake.
Her gaze drifted to the snowy grounds below, to the empty pathway that curved toward the driveway.
She frowned, her fingers tightening on the brick.
How many times had she watched him leave without explanation? How many times had she stood like this, waiting for his return, with no idea when—or if—it would come?
She hated it. Not the mansion, not the life, but the waiting. The silence. The way he would vanish into his world without a word, leaving her to piece together her emotions in his absence.
She had always known who he was, what he did. She had married a man who bore the weight of power and responsibility, but that didn’t mean she liked the way he shouldered it alone.
Esmé exhaled sharply, her breath clouding in the air.
She turned her gaze to the horizon, where the sun was a pale blur behind the clouds, casting a weak, silvery light over the estate.
Was this what it meant to be his wife? To always wait? To be left behind while he carried the burdens of a life she could never truly be part of?
She turned away from the railing, stepping back into the room. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, but it did little to comfort her.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The memory of their time in the cottage lingered in her mind difference to the coldness of the mansion.
