Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 120

As dusk settled, Wesley personally drove Charlotte back to Tranquility Manor. Just as she was about to get out of the car, he spoke up. "Are you free after eight tonight?"

Charlotte paused at the door, puzzled. "Why?"

"I've got a dinner party tonight," he explained. "I'm new in the city and don't really know anyone else. Would you be my date?"

He looked at her, then added thoughtfully, "I can pay you extra."

Charlotte agreed without hesitation.

Wesley simply smiled, saying nothing.

But she grew serious for a moment. "No need for more money. For Mrs. Rayburn's sake, I'll be your date for free."

He was already paying her a thousand dollars a day—more than enough. She wasn't greedy.

A flicker of surprise flashed in Wesley's eyes. Then he grinned, his eyes crinkling. "I'll come pick you up later."

After he left, Charlotte went inside and took a long, hot shower.

She opened a drawer and found it filled with cosmetics, standing there in a daze for a while. She'd almost forgotten that she used to love dressing up—that she hadn't really made an effort in a long time.

Staring at her reflection, she saw not only herself but also the girl she used to be—six years spent begging for love, desperately trying to please someone who never cared.

Tonight, she decided it was time to make peace with the past—and with herself.

…

Night had fallen, and the city glowed with streetlights. Wesley waited by his car, glancing toward the manor just as she appeared. Charlotte moved with quiet confidence, wearing a vintage velvet red dress with a square neckline, strappy heels clicking softly on the pavement. Her long hair, softly curled, cascaded over her shoulders.

She was the kind of woman whose striking features needed little embellishment. Heavy makeup would have ruined the effect, but tonight she wore only a touch of rouge on her lips—enough to set off her elegant bone structure and luminous skin.

Wesley looked her over, genuine admiration in his eyes. "That dress suits you."

"Thank you," Charlotte replied with a smile.

She didn't know much about the evening's event—just that it was a charity gala hosted by some company's senior partner, and the guest list was small.

The venue was Celestia Towers, the city's most famous and luxurious hotel. Not just a place for fine dining, Celestia Towers was the only restaurant in the capital licensed to host antique auctions. The most exclusive private room, "The Imperial Suite," required a minimum spend of thirty thousand dollars a night. Its lavish décor was modeled after an old European palace, complete with a private spa, live chamber music, and tableware crafted from fine porcelain and crystal.

As Charlotte turned, she spotted Jonathan across the room. He raised his glass in greeting.

Charlotte made her way through the crowd to him. "Jonathan, you're here too?"

He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering. "I am. But I didn't expect to see you here—with Mr. Rayburn, no less. I guess I underestimated you."

"He's something of a benefactor," she replied.

Jonathan's eyes softened. He reached out, gently twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. "You hardly ever dress up. You look beautiful."

Charlotte froze, caught off guard by his sudden tenderness.

"Mr. Howard!"

A voice called out from behind them. Charlotte stiffened, turning her head toward the crowd.

And in that instant, her gaze locked with a pair of dark, fathomless eyes.