Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)
Melanie Martins
Disclaimer
This novel is a work of fiction written in American-English and it is only intended for mature audiences. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should never be confused with those of the author. This novel contains strong and explicit language, slang, graphic sexuality, some D/s dynamics, and other sensitive content.
To all of you, my dear readers.
Thank you.
“There is nothing worth living for,
unless it is worth dying for.”
- Elisabeth Elliott
Prologue
Rotterdam, January 2003
Tess Hagen
“I want a divorce.”
Roy doesn’t seem surprised by my announcement. After all, our relationship has been superficial. Empty, to say the least.
“I see,” he replies quietly.
My eyes are drawn to the flames, but the crackling logs in the fireplace do nothing to dispel this cold silence that seems to mirror the harsh winter outside.
“And I bet you want fifty percent of everything I’ve worked so hard for…”
My husband lets his words trail off as he leans against the doorway of our living room, perfectly dressed in a three-piece suit like always. Despite being only thirty-eight, he already has salt-and-pepper hair and wrinkles under his eyes—probably due to the constant stress from work.
Coming from a modest family, Roy is known on Wall Street as a respectable, self-made, well-mannered gentleman and a brilliant, hardworking hedge fund manager. With a light stubble, short haircut, dark-brown eyes, and height over six feet, he’s also very charismatic—the type of man whose presence alone is intimidating.
“I don’t want your money, Roy,” I snap, before emptying my fifth glass of sauvignon blanc. “I just want to divorce you. Go to New York, go to your lovers, and leave me and my daughter alone.”
“You know that’s not possible, Tess. I refuse to leave Petra with you. And with your drinking habits, no judge will ever grant you custody.”
Consumed with hatred and rage, I throw my glass in the fire, where it shatters instantly. Then I turn to face him—hopefully for the last time. “You won’t take my daughter, Roy. Never!”
Petra was unexpected. Roy never wanted a child. He loves finance, money, and power. That’s it. He also likes women, but less than his circle of friends.
Ironically, the last thirteen months have shown how attached he is to his daughter. More than I ever expected.
I know Roy has many friends, mainly from the oldest and most powerful families in the Netherlands. With his network and connections, going against him will be a hard battle. A battle I’m not in a position to win. They will destroy me, paint an ugly reality to the judge.
And who knows if the judge would be a member of his entourage, a friend of a friend, or a close friend himself…
“Tess, let’s be rational,” he begins while moving toward me. “Let me take care of our child.” His hands hold my arms. “I’ll get her a great nanny. She’ll have the best education at the best private schools. I’ll personally make sure she visits you regularly here in Rotterdam.”
I look down, pondering his words.
“You can even keep the house. I’ll give you a generous alimony for the rest of your life. We can reach a good agreement. Beneficial for both of us and, more importantly, good for Petra.”
His voice reassures my mind, but not my heart. Tears start rolling down my face. I don’t want to let her go. New York is far. Too far. Petra is the joy of my life. My only child. My little angel, as I call her. But how can I fight against Roy Van Gatt and his multimillion-dollar lawyers? How can I fight when I’m an alcoholic who doesn’t want to get help?
I’m lost, depressed, and broken. Worst of all, I feel powerless. Totally and utterly powerless. There is no alcohol that can drown the pain of a mother losing custody of her child. But despite my unconditional love for my daughter, I know I can’t fight back.
I put my head on his shoulder and let myself cry.
Chapter 1
Manhattan, May 9, 2019
Petra Van Gatt
“Ms. Van Gatt! Dinner is served!” Janine calls out.
I’m sitting on my bed in a locked bedroom upstairs with Emma, Carol, and Laura—my friends and classmates from high school. Still wearing our uniforms, we’ve come straight here for a peculiar meeting.
“Dad will never let me go,” I finally admit.
“C’mon, Petra. You never go to any of my parties. It’s time to take some risks, babygirl,” argues Emma.
Even though she’s the oldest, I’m not convinced.
“Look,” she says, counting on her fingers. “You’ve never drunk alcohol, never smoked, never had a boyfriend, never disobeyed your father… Fuck, at least come to my farewell party this weekend.”
“I did drink a glass of champagne with Mom in Rotterdam.”