The air was so still, so silent, that Janet's voice echoed in Charles's ears with devastating clarity.
Her words, soft yet sharp, cut deeper than any scream ever could.
"You don't even know what you're saying," Charles growled, his voice low and trembling with suppressed rage. A storm had started in his chest, wild and violent. He'd thought—hoped—he'd misheard her. But no. This was the answer he got.
"Why do you always have to force me?" Janet's eyes glittered with something unreadable. "I never loved you. I used you, Charles. I only stayed with you to get back at the Louis family. At Elvira. She liked you—so I had to take you away from her."
Charles staggered a step back.
This woman—this selfish, arrogant woman—was a stranger to him.
From the day he met her, to the moment he held her in his arms, he had never once wanted to use her. Even when August and Manfred had ulterior motives, he had shielded her. Protected her.
Was that all just part of her sick little plan?
