SWEET LOVE

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2025 Violet Crosby

All rights reserved.

Cover: Violet Crosby

English translation: Violet Crosby

No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

In Montana, Melody Cameron and Ryan Stewart have loved each other in silence since childhood, unaware that the sweetness of their lives is about to be shattered by truth and violence. The secret of Melody's abandonment is a ticking time bomb: she is the hidden heir to a vendetta that only blood and power can extinguish. When the flames and shadows of the past catch up to her, Ryan, from a family of warriors, must transform into a vigilante to save her. Between the peaceful land of Montana and the dark depths of the past, only one question remains: will their love survive the truth?

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Chapter 1: An Unexpected Gift

Hamilton Fire Station

Hamilton, Montana, United States of America

December 25, 2000

The bleak lights of the Hamilton fire station cast trembling shadows on the young woman. It was late, well past midnight, the heavy silence broken only by the irregular sigh of the winter breeze. The biting cold of that Christmas night seeped relentlessly through her thin coat, chilling her to the bone. Her cheeks, once so full of life, were red from the stinging wind, and her hazel eyes, usually bright and sparkling, were now drowned by an inexhaustible wellspring of tears. Every fiber of her being screamed in pain as she clutched an wicker picnic basket to her heart, its precious contents wrapped in a soft, child-patterned blanket. Each step toward the fire station was a torment, an unbearable tearing, the painful amputation of a part of herself, a sacrifice she never thought she'd have to make.

Arriving at the massive, red firehouse door, she hesitated, her short, jerky breaths condensing into small white clouds in the freezing air. A silent sob shook her frail shoulders, but she refused to let it escape, to break the fragile cocoon of her despair. She looked at the basket one last time, tenderly caressing the tiny tuft of red hair poking out from the blanket, an innocent and distinctive sign of the life she was about to abandon. Melody, she thought, her name echoing like a broken prayer in the oppressive silence of the night, a sweet, sad melody she would never have the right to sing.

With desperate resolve, born of the deepest suffering, she gently placed the basket on the cold threshold, her heart pounding in her chest, threatening to burst with each painful beat. Every second spent there was an increased risk of being seen, of being forced to go back on her decision, to reclaim a burden she could no longer carry. She quickly slipped a folded letter inside, near the peacefully sleeping baby, who was oblivious to the drama unfolding around them. A final look filled with infinite pain, with heartbreaking love, then she turned and fled into the night, her rapid, uneven steps carrying her far, ever further, from the only hope she had left. She vanished into the darkness, like a ghostly shadow, carrying with her secret and her grief.

Inside the Fire Station...

The joyful crackle of the fire in the immense fireplace and the hearty laughter, imbued with the conviviality of the holidays, filled every corner of the Hamilton fire station on that Christmas Day in 2000. The comforting aroma of roasted turkey, infused with aromatic herbs, mingled with the sweet scent of freshly baked cookies, creating a festive and warm atmosphere that invited comfort. The men of the station, a band of brothers united by shared danger and unwavering camaraderie, were in full swing, each busy with their task with contagious energy. Sparkling garlands hung a little crooked, and a Christmas tree, decorated with an enthusiasm only firefighters, accustomed to action and controlled chaos, could display, stood proudly in a corner, its blinking lights casting colorful reflections on the walls.

"Alright, guys! Who's on mashed potato duty this year? I hope this time we don't get a mortar consistency!" shouted David Hanson, the assistant chief, affectionately nicknamed "The Surfer" for his tousled blonde hair and sparkling green eyes that reflected his carefree spirit. He was juggling an unstable stack of tin cans, narrowly avoiding a hilarious collision with Kenneth Wallace, nicknamed "Carrot," whose fiery red hair seemed ready to catch fire at the mere mention of a culinary task, so clumsy was he in the kitchen.

"Definitely not me! Last time, I turned the potatoes into wallpaper paste; we could've wallpapered the whole station with it!" exclaimed "Pappy" Bob Murphy, a big-hearted man with contagious joviality who, despite his nickname, was far from old. He was desperately trying to untangle a string of fairy lights that eerily resembled a nest of phosphorescent snakes, drawing amused laughter from around him.

William Cameron, the fire chief, also known as the "Gentle Giant" due to his imposing six-foot-five stature and fiery red hair, watched the joyful chaos with a weary smile. His piercing blue eyes, usually sparkling with mischief and good humor, still bore the recent shadow of loss. His wife, Maddy, had been gone for a month, taken by a sudden illness, leaving an immense, gaping void in his heart and in the life of the station. Christmas this year was a heartbreaking ordeal, a mountain of bittersweet memories he was striving to climb. He had spent the morning organizing the distribution of gifts for underprivileged children and young patients at Hamilton Hospital, throwing himself body and soul into the work to escape the deafening silence of his own grief.

Amidst this contagious excitement, Captain, a majestic Belgian Malinois and the true guardian of the fire station, was taking a nap at the foot of the Christmas tree, peacefully snoring and undoubtedly dreaming of balls and treats. But suddenly, a faint whine, a light and persistent wail, cut through the ambient hubbub, a strange and unexpected sound. Captain, ears perked like antennae, half-closed eyes slowly opening, softly growled, an instinctive warning. He got up with surprising agility for his size, his tail wagging with unusual curiosity, his body tensed by a sudden alert. The sound seemed to come from outside, right at the main door of the station, clearer now.

The men, too busy debating the comparative merits of chestnut stuffing and apple stuffing, hadn't heard a thing. Captain, true to his post and his keen protective instinct, walked with determined steps toward the door, his snout sniffing the cold December air, identifying the source of the sound. The wails grew clearer, more urgent, tiny, heartbreaking cries that could not be ignored. He scratched at the door with a paw, then let out a small, plaintive whine, finally attracting William's attention.

"What's wrong, big guy? Did you see a giant squirrel steal the turkey?" joked Kris Lambert, "Ladder King," a thin and agile man who was about to climb a ladder to hang a giant Christmas star on the ceiling, always ready for action.

Ignoring the friendly teasing, Captain continued to frantically fidget at the door, his pleading gaze turned toward William. Intrigued, Chief Cameron stood up, his tall silhouette eclipsing the fireplace and the joyous kitchen scene. "What's bothering you, Captain? You look like you've found national treasure," he asked, approaching with a hint of amusement.

The moment William opened the door, a chilling gust of air swept in, bringing with it the now distinct and heartbreaking wails of a baby. On the frozen doorstep, in a simple wicker picnic basket, wrapped in a soft, checkered blanket, lay an infant. Captain, without waiting for an order, delicately grasped the basket's handles with his mouth and, with a sure, instinctive movement, walked into the comforting warmth of the fire station, depositing his precious burden right at the chief's feet. A gesture of unexpected, almost human, tenderness.

Silence fell all at once, heavy and deafening. The Christmas hubbub vanished, replaced by a stunned muteness. All eyes turned, incredulous, toward the basket, then toward the baby who, now warm and safe, had stopped crying and looked at the world with large gray eyes, a small tuft of red hair, messy but adorable, sticking up on their head.

"My God..." whispered David, the first to find his voice, his jaw dropping. "It's... it's a baby. A real one."

Chief Cameron, his face pale, marked by surprise and rising emotion, slowly knelt, as if the whole world had suddenly stopped. The baby looked at him with innocent curiosity, their small, plump fingers wiggling and grasping at the air. Nestled beside the infant, a folded letter, rolled and tied with an undone ribbon, lay in the basket. William grabbed it, his hands trembling, and began to read, his voice low and hoarse, barely audible above the ambient silence:

"To whoever finds my baby,

I entrust you with the most precious thing in my life. I cannot keep and protect her. It is not for lack of love, but out of desperation. Her father must never know. Give her a better life, a love I cannot offer. Her name is Melody."

The letter, stained by a few old tears, contained no name, no date, nor any information about the mother's identity or the circumstances of this heartbreaking abandonment. Just these few lines, etched on the paper, a silent cry of distress and maternal love, a forced farewell.

The initial shock, frozen by surprise, gave way to a wave of collective emotion. "A baby... on Christmas Day," murmured Scott Sinclair, nicknamed "Mr. Sunshine" for his unwavering optimism, his usually cheerful face marked by an unexpected gravity.

"What do we do, Chief?" asked "Thumbelina" Thomas William, the smallest of the team, his eyes wide with surprise and a hint of fear at this unexpected responsibility.

William didn't answer right away. He looked at the infant, their deep, large gray eyes, that small tuft of red hair... the same vibrant color as his own and gray eyes so similar to those of his late Maddy. A wave of unexpected tenderness enveloped him, chasing away the lingering grief that had haunted him for a month, if only for a fleeting moment. He extended a finger, which baby Melody grasped with astonishing strength, a small, firm grip for such a tiny being. A spark, a fragile but persistent glimmer of hope, passed through his grieving heart, like a promise amidst the darkness.

The Gentle Giant, widowed for a month, looked up at his men. Their faces, a touching mix of perplexity, undisguised tenderness, and a hint of awkward humor, looked back at him, awaiting his decision, their leader, their brother. Captain, proud of his priceless find, lay down near the basket, watching over the newborn like his most precious treasure, a silent and loyal guardian.

"Well, guys," William said, his voice regaining confidence, a hint of his usual humor piercing through the emotion. "It looks like Santa Claus decided to make a special delivery for us this year. And he forgot the instruction manual." A slight, nervous but warm laugh rippled through the assembly, breaking the tension. "But I think we have a Plan B."

He looked at Melody, her serene little face, then at his men, a slow smile spreading across his face, a smile that reached his eyes for the first time in weeks. "First, does anyone have a diaper? And second... I think we have a new team member."

That Christmas, instead of the usual toy distribution and holiday routine, the Hamilton fire station had received the most precious gift, a fragile and resilient little being, a new soul. And William Cameron, his heart broken by loss, felt a small flame reignite within him, a promise of renewal. Fate, in the form of a keen-nosed Belgian Malinois and an unexpected picnic basket, had just offered him a new reason to live, a new path to explore, paved with unexpected love and responsibilities. Melody was there, and her presence would transform their lives forever.