"Crazy... crazy! You’re nothing but a madman!" Janet screamed at him, her voice trembling with rage and disbelief. She never imagined someone could be so cold-hearted. Derrick was his own brother—his flesh and blood. Charles was the son he raised with care. And yet, step by step, Derrick had pushed him into a corner. Worse, he had orchestrated a tragedy just to watch his brothers tear each other apart?
"If Charles ever finds out the truth... who do you think will suffer more? Him? Or me?" Derrick’s cold smile sent a chill down Janet’s spine. Then, unexpectedly, he released Janet’s wrists. He hadn’t wiped out August yet, so he didn’t want the world to know too soon. In fact, he intended to keep Charles under his control for life. If Philip could never stand up again, Derrick needed a son to guard Black Rock Co. for him.
"This is the day I’ve been waiting for!" Derrick’s cruel laughter stabbed deep into Janet’s eyes. But she couldn’t shed a single tear. What could she do? If even an outsider like her couldn’t accept such a horrifying truth, how could Charles bear it?
Once the truth was out, despair would swallow him whole. The father he revered—the merciless demon—would become his mortal enemy. The hatred he clung to now would seem like the cruelest joke. His brother, his father... what could he use to make amends for all this?
No. For someone as proud as Charles, that would be worse than death.
Old grudges unresolved, new wounds inflicted—her Charles didn’t deserve to live in such misery, drowning in endless hatred.
It was too unfair. Too cruel.
"Have you decided what you’re going to do?" Derrick’s tone was as cold and composed as the first time Janet met him. No threats, no scolding—just a question that felt like the hardest puzzle she’d ever faced.
He knew she wouldn’t tell Charles the truth. And once again, he was right. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it.
"Now, get out of here. Pretend you never came into this room," Derrick said calmly, taking a step forward. Janet’s mind had already gone fuzzy; she barely heard what he said next as he walked deeper inside.
When she finally left the mansion, a Bugatti Veyron was parked outside. Charles leaned against the hood, smoking quietly. August was nowhere to be seen.
Janet wanted to see him so badly, but was too afraid to meet his gaze. When Charles noticed her, he suddenly dropped his cigarette and walked over without a word, pulling her into a tight hug.
"I thought you’d already left," Janet whispered, her tears falling freely as she breathed in his familiar scent. She was terrified he might leave her alone on this endless road—she wasn’t sure if she could keep up.
"Fool, how could I ever leave you?" Charles’ voice trembled with sorrow. Janet didn’t know what had happened between him and August, but she saw fresh scratches and bruises on his handsome face. She stood on tiptoes and gently kissed his cheek, wishing she could hold him forever, through the end of time, until only the two of them remained on Earth.
"Charles, you still have me. I won’t lie—I’ll always, always be by your side," Janet sobbed and smiled, kissing every line of his face. Their silhouettes intertwined under the sunset, stretching long and warm. Upstairs, a shadow watched them silently; the curtains fluttered softly in the breeze, scattering fallen leaves that swayed and settled, until the night returned to quiet stillness.
Tonight, Janet was unusually passionate. Usually slow to express affection, as soon as they were alone in the room, she wrapped her arms around him and hurriedly began to remove his clothes, as if seeking comfort from his touch. Charles noticed the panic in her eyes, wrapped his arms around her waist, and together they fell back onto the wide, soft bed.
When dry wood meets raging fire, it ignites instantly. Charles, who had been passive until now, couldn’t hold back any longer when he saw Janet’s desperate, tearful expression—so lost and aching for release. He flipped over and climbed on top of her, reclaiming control.
Never before had he felt such an intense need for her. Janet didn’t want to be apart for even a second—she only wanted to give him more warmth with her own body heat.
Seductive breaths filled the room in an instant. Sensing her desire, Charles skipped the usual teasing and plunged deep inside her, his lips silencing the sweet moans escaping from her tempting mouth.
At the peak of passion, Janet clung to him, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist, refusing to let him go. He was buried deep within her, slowly savoring the softness that enveloped him layer by layer—so tight, so sweet—that even he didn’t want to leave.
"Wife, how did you get so passionate all of a sudden?" Time seemed to freeze as Charles lay on top of her. Afraid of pressing down too hard, he flipped and pulled Janet close against his bare chest. Their bodies slick with mingled sweat, neither wanted to move.
"Stop it... don’t say that!" Janet’s cheeks flushed with a shy smile. She reached out to cover his mouth with her delicate hand, only to have him playfully nibble on her fingers, clearly addicted to every side of her—whether shyly resisting or boldly inviting, he loved her to the bone.
"What? Feeling shy? You were the one who started all this passion just now!" Charles’ hand slid down mischievously from her waist. Janet didn’t stop him; eyes closed, she waited for his kiss to land, reigniting the fire between them for another round...
That night, from bed to carpet, and then to the bathroom, they moved like conjoined souls, as if their emotions couldn’t be fully expressed any other way. Their union wasn’t just physical—it was a merging of hearts.
Charles adored this Janet—the way she bloomed beneath him made him feel complete. At this moment, his eyes held only her, and hers only him.
"Charles, can you please let August go?" After the storm had passed, their quiet breaths filled the room. Janet’s deep, shining black eyes sparkled like stars in the night sky.
But the moment Charles heard her words, his whole body tensed, and his gaze turned dark and unfathomable.