The Day I Stopped Waiting Was the Day He Started Begging novel Chapter 1

During the dreary rainy season in the Capital City, Madeline Monroe caught a mild cold. When she returned to the magazine office from the clinic, her colleagues were busy admiring a man on the television screen.

"Look at that V-taper."

"Shoulders for days."

"Lean muscle, and those long legs."

After a round of critiques, a female colleague sighed with envy. "Whoever gets to sleep with York Yates is hitting the absolute jackpot."

Someone immediately glanced at Madeline.

As the third son of the Yates family, York was refined yet carried a rebellious edge. Over the years, he had rarely been involved in any scandals.

The single exception happened after a magazine team-building event, when York coincidentally arrived at the same exclusive club for a gathering with friends.

As the night wrapped up, someone snapped a photo of him gripping Madeline's waist, pressing her against a limited-edition Porsche.

In the photo, Madeline wore a stunning silk cocktail dress that highlighted her stunning curves. He had one hand clamped securely around her waist and a cigarette in the other. The night breeze caught York's overcoat, making him look devastatingly aristocratic and seductive.

The boundless night had cast their intimate silhouette in absolute tension.

That single photograph had spread like wildfire through their elite circles.

However, Madeline had simply explained it away afterward: "I just twisted my ankle, and York was kind enough to catch me."

In truth, as the years passed, the two seemed to have no intersecting paths. He became a high-ranking, powerful prosecutor, navigating the Capital's elite circles with ease as his reputation soared. She remained a magazine editor, gentle and beautiful, but largely fading into the background of ordinary life.

Yet, that initial photograph had sparked an endless amount of jealousy. Even though it was ancient history, it still rubbed people the wrong way.

The gazes landing on Madeline grew scrutinizing.

Madeline had just walked in from the rain. Drops of water still clung to her eyelashes, making her look dewy and luminous. Her skin was radiantly fair, her lips naturally flushed without a drop of lipstick, and dressed in a simple white dress, she possessed an almost ethereal beauty.

Her eyes only lingered on the television for a split second before she withdrew her gaze. She lowered her head to organize her drafts, entirely unbothered by the chatter and jokes around her.

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