The moment the words left her lips, Janet felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her heart — so easy, yet like a drifting bottle lost at sea, she suddenly lost all sense of direction.
Sure enough, her words, neither too light nor too heavy, landed perfectly in both their ears. The car doors swung open almost simultaneously, and Janet’s petite figure was soon engulfed by two dark shadows. A chill swept over her from both sides, sinking deep into her chest, making it hard even to breathe.
"What did you say?" Charles’s sharp eyes narrowed dangerously. Suddenly, he gripped Janet’s arm tightly, his mind replaying her words in disbelief like a cruel hallucination.
"It’s true. This whole thing... it’s your father’s conspiracy. You and August are real brothers. You’re Norman’s son. He wants to watch you tear each other apart!" Janet met his dark gaze unwaveringly. He looked like a wild beast just awoken, radiating an untouchable aura of menace. But Janet had no time to fear—truth must come out someday. And the only way was to stop them from destroying each other.
"You’re lying!" Charles’s eyes darted fiercely as he rejected her words with absolute certainty. It couldn’t be true. He didn’t believe it. Derrick might have never truly loved him, but as a father, he could feel Derrick’s trust and investment in him. There was no way Derrick was the monster Janet described.
"It’s true. I’m not lying. On your mother’s death anniversary, I heard it with my own ears. I was too scared to tell you. Charles, he threatened me before—not to let me have your baby. He’s a cruel demon. He said he would make me lose our child like last time. That’s why I’ve been taking the pills. I told you I wasn’t lying—really, I wasn’t!"
"You and August are really brothers. Don’t let him fool you anymore. He’s no father!"
"Charles, August is your brother. That’s why I’ve been trying to stop you from hurting him!"
"Trust me. Everything I’m saying is true!"
Each of Janet’s words felt like tiny silver needles piercing Charles’s heart—creating countless little holes. They didn’t kill, but they twisted his soul in agony. His mind raced, recalling her every word and Derrick’s past deeds: forcing Janet to abort, forbidding their union, yet desperate for Philip’s heirs. Derrick poured hatred into his head—Norman’s ruthlessness, August’s scheming.
All these threads wove into a tangled web trapping his thoughts. He couldn’t escape this labyrinth of lies and truths.
"Charles, where are you going?" Janet asked as he suddenly turned silent, sliding into his car. A shocking red gash bled down his forehead, and Janet was too scared to approach him any closer.
August stood stunned, unable to grasp the weight of the news. When Charles’s car kicked up a cold gust and pushed Janet aside mercilessly, August finally understood his purpose.
"August, please follow him! He’s hurt! He’s in danger!" Janet knew exactly where he was headed. Only by confronting that man and forcing the truth out could Charles believe it—and once the truth was revealed, he would be devastated beyond words.
Only she—no matter how terrifying he became—must stay by his side.
Now, it was her turn to protect him.
"Janet, August, get in!" Manfred’s Bugatti suddenly appeared beside them. August was in no condition to drive, so Janet nodded and helped him into the car. Without hesitation, Manfred slammed on the accelerator, chasing after the Bugatti that had just vanished ahead, heading straight for Snowpeak Villa.
Crimson blood trickled from Charles’s cheek down his neck, but the injured driver held the steering wheel steadily. His mind was a storm of questions, yet no clear answers came. The truth was right in front of him, but he refused to face it.
For twenty-eight years, Charles had never known failure. His career soared beyond limits, and nothing had ever stopped him — not even Janet. Everything he wanted, he fought for relentlessly. In his dictionary, there was no such thing as losing. And now, after gaining everything he had dreamed of, he was confronted with a ridiculous lie. He refused to believe it.
Though Charles never had deep affection for Derrick, he held an innate respect — a son’s admiration for his father. He couldn’t believe Derrick was only using him.
He was Derrick’s pride and joy. Charles could feel it in Derrick’s approving gaze. And Philip, their brotherly bond ran deep — it wasn’t something that could be destroyed by just one sentence from Janet.
Yet, his heart wouldn’t allow him to remain indifferent. If he was just a pawn, then what could he say to the man he’d called "Dad" for twenty-eight years — the man responsible for killing his father and child?
When Charles arrived at Snowpeak Villa, battered and bleeding, even Robert was taken aback. The usually composed and untouchable Lord Charles looked utterly broken, his wounds unbandaged.
"Lord Charles, what happened to you?" Robert’s concern was evident as he followed Charles into the villa, only to find Derrick absent from the living room.
"Where is he?" Charles emerged from the study, his cold eyes fixed on Robert, who had been with the Elwin family for over thirty years.
"Looking for the lord? He’s with Master Philip. Let me tend to your wounds first—how did you get hurt so badly?" Robert gently took hold of Charles’s arm as two servants arrived with medical supplies. Charles’s status in this house was second only to Derrick, and Robert had watched him grow up.
"Robert... I’m not really Derrick’s son, am I? I’m Norman and Sienna’s child?" Charles’s voice trembled as he struggled to accept the truth that was shaking his heart. Robert, hearing this, lifted his head in disbelief — the scandal from thirty years ago within the Elwin family was known to some, but he never expected Charles to learn the truth.
"Lord Charles... why do you ask that..." Robert’s unease was clear, but Charles only saw through the facade and let out a bitter laugh. Even a servant of the Elwin family knew this secret, yet he had been deceived for twenty-eight years. Was Derrick too cunning, or was he simply too naïve?
"Lord Charles, Lord Charles..." Before Robert could finish tending to his wounds, Charles had already risen from the sofa, his expression calm and composed as he strode toward the North Wing. Watching Charles’s retreating figure, Robert’s eyes flickered with a silent sorrow, whispering to himself, "What a tragedy this all is—"