Loved You Once But He's My Forever (Chloe)

We sent Jeffrey off, the final step of a long journey. Everything had been planned by him, down to the smallest detail—his burial beside his first wife.

It wasn't in the Bolton family plot, but in a quiet valley, where the air was crisp and the wildflowers bloomed in abundance.

There were no speeches, no grand ceremony. It was just us, the immediate family, standing in silent respect as he was laid to rest.

Carter spoke first, breaking the stillness. "He always said we didn't need to visit on holidays. He owed her too much. She spent her life tied down, trapped by the Bolton name. She never knew a moment of peace. But now, in death, he can finally make it up to her. He has all the time in the world to share with her, to explore the world they never had."

A man who had spent his whole life bound by duty-who would've guessed that in the end, he'd choose to let go?

When the rich are buried, it's always a grand affair-the best time, the best place, the perfect conditions for prosperity and family legacy. People consult experts, check the stars, and ensure that everything is just right.

But Jeffrey? He didn't care about any of that.

He spent his years working to preserve the Bolton legacy. But on the day he chose to die, he was free.

Carter wiped away the tear at my cheek. "Dad said not to cry, this isn't an end. It's a new beginning."

I nodded, unsure of what to say.

"It's beautiful here," Carter continued. "The birds, the flowers... He won't be alone."

"Yeah."

It didn't feel like a funeral. It felt more like a quiet goodbye.

We set the tribute and the wreaths, and that was all.

Everett and Everly had been still, calm in their stroller. But then, they started laughing.

Their tiny hands reached up, swiping at the air, their eyes focused on something only they could see.

Above them, two butterflies danced-one pure white, the other bright with color. Maybe they didn't see butterflies at all.

The white one landed gently on Carter's shoulder, while the colorful one fluttered in front of me.

Suddenly, I remembered Jeffrey's words. "Your mother-in-law always had a love for beauty. Even if she turned into a butterfly, she'd still be the most beautiful one in the garden."

The white butterfly gently landed on Carter's shoulder, as if a soft hand had rested there, offering a quiet blessing. It seemed to whisper, "The Boltons are yours now", a weight passing from one pair of hands to another.

The colorful butterfly hovered near me, its wings flicking with a deliberate grace. It felt like it was studying me, examining the life I had led. Jeffrey must have told it everything—the trials, the twists, the paths I'd taken.

I forced back the lump in my throat, my voice thick with emotion. "Jeffrey, don't worry. I'll take care of the kids and Carter." I wanted to believe it myself, but the weight of his absence was already pressing down.

The butterfly hovered over the dessert beside the gravestone, resting for a moment. Carter had prepared it as a small tribute to Jeffrey's wife, remembering her fondness for sweets. It was a simple, quiet gesture, but somehow, it felt like the most meaningful one.

Like a child darting around, the butterfly flitted from place to place, never pausing for long. It danced with the breeze, as if the world were a playground to explore, never bound to stay in one spot.

In my mind, a vision bloomed-a young girl, no older than 20, carefree and full of life. She ran through a bustling night market, laughing as she held candied apple in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other. Milkshake and snacks swung from her wrist as she moved.

That girl was innocent, a picture of youth and joy, standing beside a tall man who spoke softly, offering wisdom in gentle tones, guiding her forward, and protecting her from the world.

The white butterfly drifted past every Bolton descendant, as if saying its goodbyes.

It lingered only for a moment before it moved on, one last farewell to each of them.

Once its goodbyes were done, it returned to the colorful butterfly, their reunion quiet but full of meaning.

The colorful butterfly paused again, fluttering its wings before it landed on Adam's tie.

It seemed fitting. This was the child she had fought to bring into the world, the one she had given up everything for.

From Carter's words, I learned the dark truth about the twins. The old hag had plotted to use them as weapons in her vengeance against the Boltons.

When they were a mere eight years of age, the sister had died protecting her brother.

The brother clung to life, his body broken, his legs fractured, his spirit shattered too. He was like a puppet, moving only because his strings hadn't snapped completely.

The worst part was the resemblance he looked so much like a young Jeffrey. The old hag had kept him close, as if he were some kind of rare treasure, a forbidden thing she couldn't bring herself to release.

She had a twisted, cruel plan to bear a child from the Bolton bloodline.

All along, we thought her obsession was with wealth and legacy. But the truth was far darker.

Years ago, she had loved Jeffrey. They were a perfect match-both from respected families, destined to marry, or so it seemed.

But Jeffrey's heart had chosen a different path. He had fallen for a poor flower seller, and Commander's eyes had turned toward Brynn instead.

Brynn had thought that agreeing to the marriage would make Jeffrey see her as the one he needed to choose.

She believed it would force him into making a decision, but all it did was prove that he only saw her as a sister. She had given everything her time, her heart, her life-for a love that was never truly hers to claim.

Losing her love, she married the Commander. But that marked her descent into madness, into cruelty.

Every time she saw him with the flower seller, her heart broke a little more.

Jeffrey's affection for the woman only deepened, while her own life with Commander slipped further into darkness.

The more she was with him, the colder her heart became. Her bitterness grew like

an unforgiving vine, twisting and pulling her further away from the person she used to be.

It was the sight of couples in love that hurt the most-couples like the Carlyns.

She had seen them at the temple, Jeffrey with his pregnant wife, his arm around her as he whispered soft words of affection. The tenderness between them pierced Brynn like an arrow.

It was everything she had longed for, everything she could never have.

But my grandmother had not been trying to please Commander. She had her eyes set on Mrs. Carlyn Senior from the very beginning.

She had noticed the woman at the temple, pregnant and seeking blessings. My grandmother's eyes darkened with jealousy as she watched Mrs. Carlyn Senior. "She must be about to give birth," she murmured to the servant, her voice dripping with bitterness.

The servant passed on her words to my grandmother. The hag, consumed by the jealousy she had carried for years, took action.

When Commander saw Mrs. Carlyn Senior, he did not hesitate.

He was immediately drawn to her beauty. But it wasn't just that-he admired her kindness, something he hadn't found in his own life. He grew to care for her, and he had plans about taking her in as a concubine, but fearing his wife's wrath, he hid Mrs. Carlyn Senior away with the Sander family.

When Brynn learned the truth, fury boiled inside her. She couldn't stand the thought of Commander loving

another woman, especially one sot

kind. In a fit of rage, she set out to destroy Mrs. Carlyn. She sent her into another man's bed, breaking her

both physically and emotionally. With that, she crushed any hope the Commander had for her.

And in doing so, she tore apart the Carlyns' happiness, leaving them broken and

shattered.

As for the Sander family, my grandfather was a man too weak to stand on his own, easily swayed by those around him. My grandmother, though strong and determined, had no illusions about love. They cared for each other, but there was a burden between them that neither could shake.

Quietly, she nudged my grandfather down a path he would have never chosen, introducing him to other women, hoping to break his faith in loyalty and love. This subtle manipulation set the stage for the Carlyns' revenge. My grandfather's health had already begun to fail. The Carlyns knew exactly how to finish him off— by introducing a few more women and some carefully placed poison. His life would soon end in their hands.

But through it all, the one person Brynn hated above all else was Mrs. Bolton-the woman whom Jeffrey had fiercely protected, the woman who had captured his heart and never let go.noveldrama

She had tried, over and over, to send him women. Women she secretly drugged, hoping he would fall for them. But every plan crumbled to dust.

In the end, she chose a darker path. She orchestrated Jeffrey's wife's death during childbirth, then spread lies that drove him to abandon his children.

She had thought that after her death, Jeffrey would betray his vows. But, to her surprise, he remained faithful. He never remarried and kept no woman by his side. Then, as if summoned by fate, someone appeared who looked eerily like his late wife-Carter's mother. She resembled her in ways that seemed almost supernatural, her mannerisms, her gentle strength. Under the old hag's influence, Carter's mother fell in love with Jeffrey.

But it wasn't her who drugged him. It was the old hag. She had schemed to break Jeffrey's sacred promise to his late wife.

When Jeffrey woke up, his mind clouded by the drug, he leaped to the wrong

conclusion. He accused Carter's mother of betraying him, and in that fury, she vanished from his life, never to return.

Yet, she still loved him. Despite the hurt, she didn't abort the child. She carried it

to term and gave birth, hoping for something better.

But fate wasn't done with her. She died in a carefully laid trap, an accident designed by the very forces that had shaped her life. Jeffrey, grieving deeply, took Carter into his home, offering the boy what little comfort he could.

The Boltons, the Sanders, the Carlyns-every mistake, every wrong turn, had her fingerprints all over it.

Her plan had been to use Jeffrey's son to have a child of her own. But when age

stole her ability, she manipulated other women into bearing children, swapping Luke and Silas.

She had meant to hold this thread for the perfect moment to make Jeffrey's heart shatter when he least expected it.

That's why, when Wisteria and Sheila entered the Boltons, neither one ever aimed

to take Jeffrey's life.

She wanted him alive, to witness the fall of the Boltons with his own eyes.

Her twin brother couldn't take it anymore. The torment was too much, and he ended his own life.

Knowing her time was nearly up, she decided to drag Jeffrey down with her. To take him to the very bottom, so he could never escape her grip.

But Jeffrey, his will to live shattered, killed her before she could destroy him

completely. He succumbed to the poison she'd planted, and so ended the cycle. Generations of vengeance, buried in the dust.

Too many lives were destroyed in her path of vengeance.

But today, Jeffrey was free.

The white butterfly and the beautiful butterfly soared together, wings stretching

toward the sun. He had finally found his true love.

Together, they would walk this life side by side.

As I watched the butterflies grow smaller, vanishing into the horizon, I whispered,

"Farewell. May we meet again in the hereafter."