Annabelle Grant
CHAPTER ONE
It was a cool evening.
Chicago had never looked so gray—
but today, it did.
Annabelle rested her forehead lightly against the cold windowpane of her workplace, watching the snow fall in heavy, slanted sheets. It coated the streets like a thick white blanket, swallowing the noise of the city.
Christmas had always meant something warm to her.
Lights, laughter, lovers holding hands…
Moments where everything felt whole.
And of course, she believed hers would be just that.
She couldn’t wait to drop her pen and go home to her boyfriend.
Her heart fluttered at the thought.
Annabelle was a journalist—always digging, always chasing stories—but today wasn’t about the news. Today she felt… unsettled. Tired. Irritated. Their boss had them all pinned down in a long meeting, doing what he knew best—giving “more knowledge,” as he dramatically called it.
They had been stuck there for over two hours.
Murmurs rose across the room like tiny rebellions.
Annabelle wasn’t the type to murmur, but the grunt that escape her lips was very real.
She was tired of her boss and his over-the-top energy.
“So we’re done… go home and spend your jollof Christmas! Keep the juicy gist!” Jericho Addams announced with his wide grin, adjusting his glasses.
Yup.
That was Jericho—CEO of Addams Entertainment.
A not-so-popular industry, but it survived on vibes, hope, and Jericho’s questionable humor. He was funny, stress-free, but turned serious when he needed to.
“Annabelle,” his vice called, stopping her just when she had packed up and was ready to bolt out of the building.
She froze, shoulders dropping.
Why always her?
“Oh dear, not to worry… it’s just a gift, huh!” he said with a smile, waving her into the office.
She followed, exhausted.
He brought out a neatly wrapped package.
“This is my heartfelt gift as a boss to his worker who’s excellent in her field,” he said, still smiling.
Annabelle returned the smile, though weaker.
She reached to take the gift, but her mind flickered to Frank—
her boyfriend.
The jealous one.
“Not to worry, it’s not something that will get Mr. F all worked up, huh!” the man chuckled, reading her expression perfectly.
She sighed, embarrassed, and took the gift.
Leaving the building, she headed straight to the garage where her old-fashioned Toyota waited patiently. It had been a gift from her late father—her last piece of him—and she cherished it more than anything.
She turned the key.
“Tortortor… tortortor…”
The usual sound.
Her co-workers had even nicknamed it Tortortor.
She was just grateful they didn’t call her that too.
★
She parked in her small compound.
Quiet. Familiar. Hers.
The house, also inherited from her father, protected her from rent and stress. She took care of herself well enough…
but then, there was Frank.
Always coming with a new “investment,” a new “emergency,” a new “plan.”
And every time he came, at least ten thousand left her account.
She sighed, entering the house with her heels clicking lightly on the tiled floor.
In her room, she stripped off her work clothes and was about to step into the bathroom when her phone buzzed.
A message.
From My Love.
“Meet me at our usual spot tonight.
I have a surprise.”
Her heart skipped.
A surprise?
Was he going to propose?
Maybe his investment had finally paid off…
Her smile widened.
She had already marked this Christmas as the best.
She showered quickly, humming, and put on her most beautiful gown—the one he always loved. She stared at herself in the mirror once she was done.
She looked stunning.
A blush dusted her cheeks at the thought of his compliment.
Minutes later, she found herself standing in the cold at their usual spot. Her breath puffed in front of her. The wind bit her arms. But her heart was warm, glowing with hope.
She spotted him immediately.
Frank.
And he looked good.
Really good.
But someone stood beside him.
A woman.
Annabelle’s steps slowed, a faint confusion crackling inside her chest.
Who was she?
She opened her mouth to call him—
But then it happened.
Frank dropped to one knee.
Right in front of the woman.
He opened a small velvet box.
A beautiful ring sparkled inside.
“Will you marry me, Amelia Hart?”
Amelia Hart???
Amelia…!!?
Annabelle’s entire world tilted.
Her stomach dropped.
Her vision blurred instantly.
Hot tears slipped down her cheeks before she even realized she was crying.
Six years.
Six years of loving him.
Six years of believing they were building something.
And he was proposing to someone else.
She turned sharply, choking on her breath, tears blinding her as she rushed away.
“Anna!”
His voice called out.
She felt him step behind her.
“I’m sorry, but I had to…
You’re not the one for me.”
That was the last thing she heard
before her knees buckled
and
everything went dark.
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