2025-07-01 15:30:19
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Epilogue — 2 years later“What are you going to do?” Thomas asked, watching Charles pace like a caged lion, hair messy, thoughts racing.“Huh?”“I mean…what are you going to do?” Thomas repeated, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.Charles stopped mid-step, eyes wide. “We can’t…abort, right?”“You can,” Thomas said smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “Technically. But we’d have to erase Grandma’s memory, your parents’, Hailey’s…oh, and Charlotte’s, of course. Strategic amnesia—like a clean reset.”Charles froze, terror written all over his face. “Wait…Sadie couldn’t have told them!”“Bro, think logically,” Thomas said, shrugging. “She told you last night. She probably called your mom this morning with the ‘big news alert.’ That’s just…common sense.”Charles ran a hand through his hair, sweat beading at his forehead.Thomas leaned forward, grinning like a man who owned the world. “Honestly, it’s not that complicated. Pay me a little cash, I give you lessons. You’ll need dad jo
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"Okay. I’m just trying to help your life here. How much debt do you owe now?” Charles asked, cold and measured.“Forget about the debt,” Harington waved a hand. “I will clear them all.”“I doubt that. But I have a gift for you.” Charles pulled out his phone and dialed a number, tossing it to Emmy.Harington snatched it.“Harrington, dear,” Helena’s voice rang through, calm and cutting. “Never thought I’d speak to you again, but Charles is considerate. Because of all your debts—and for old times’ sake—I’ve decided to employ your daughter and wife under me, to pay off part of your obligations.”“Shut—” Harington snapped, but a bullet tore through his shoulder. Pain exploded through him as he hit the floor, screaming.“Keep quiet,” Charles warned, voice ice.Harington tried. Survival instinct screamed at him—he was smart, he could outmaneuver Charles. He could negotiate…he knew that.Helena’s voice continued, unnervingly cheerful. “They’ll work as my stunt doubles. You know how I handle
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Charles loaded the gun, his hands steady despite the storm raging in his chest. Two long days in the gym had sharpened him, stripped away everything but one obsession: his brother, every memory, every laugh, every word. Nothing else mattered.Piece by piece, it all fell into place. The man he’d called his godfather, the one he’d trusted blindly, was part of the order that had destroyed his life. He hadn’t pulled the trigger, yes—but that didn’t matter. No. Not anymore.He loaded another gun, slipped on black gloves, and examined himself in the mirror. Head-to-toe black. Two guns in his pockets. Every muscle coiled, ready.Minutes later, he was at the Harrington estate. The guards swarmed immediately, anticipation in their eyes. Harington had clearly been warned—he was ready.“I’m sorry, you can’t enter right now,” one guard said. “Unless…you tell us what you want to do.”Charles didn’t speak. He snapped his fingers. In a blink, men poured in, tearing through the guards like paper. Bla
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Charles’ mother didn’t respond. No flicker of emotion crossed her face. Nothing. “And…Charlotte told me. You didn’t believe…he’s alive. That’s why…we came. To tell you…” She bit her lower lip and, without another word, turned and left the room. Sadie rose quickly, some of the things on the table clattering to the floor. She hastily gathered them, her eyes catching a photograph tucked behind the mirror. She slowly lifted it. Her heart skipped. It was Charles—designer shirt, stylish pants, that familiar smirk. Charlotte was beside him, smiling. And a man—older, strikingly similar to Charles, but with a mature, world-weary air. Unlike the others, his gaze carried a depth that hinted at the weight of experiences far beyond his years. Sadie slowly put the picture back where she had found it, her hands trembling. She couldn’t tell how…but she could feel it—a faint echo of the pain Charles carried from his brother’s death. Maybe it was intuition, maybe delusion, but she sensed the frac
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After the meal, Sadie offered to help with the dishes while Lauren decided to follow Charles’ father to the factory. He seemed genuinely happy to have her along. “It’s the only thing he’s built all his life,” Charlotte muttered, arranged some of the dishes in the plate holder. “I feel like he loves that place more than he loves me. If it could become a child, he’d pour all his love into it.” Sadie chuckled softly, keeping her voice low. “But Charlotte, they don’t seem like they’d get mad if you mentioned Charles,” she whispered. “That’s because you haven’t. They think he’s dead. They don’t want to talk about him.” “He…never sent money home?” Sadie asked, hesitating. “I mean, Charles.” “Someone did. An anonymous, untraceable account—about a million Canadian dollars every month. The first deposit came ten days after we couldn’t find him. Dad tried to track it but failed. That money…he used it to start the factory. We haven’t touched it since. I’d guess it’s around five hundred mil
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“She’s a fan,” Lauren said quickly, lying smoothly. “We came here for a secret fan meet, then begged her for a place to stay—we couldn’t deal with the paparazzi online.” “You two must have a hard time,” Charles’ mother said softly, her eyes lingering on Sadie. “This is why I never wanted Charlotte to become a musician—or whatever she wants. Imagine this happening to her… that fragile girl.” Lauren laughed lightly. “Even though my family’s already popular, my mom worried when I said I wanted to be more famous. I get exactly what you’re feeling.” “You see?” Charles’ mother said, her voice firm but gentle. “All I want for her is to finish college. I don’t care if she struggles, fails even—let her finish. After that, she can join her father’s company or do whatever she wants.” “Oh, that’s cool. What do you produce in the factory?” Lauren asked, trying to lighten the mood. “Pastries, mostly,” Charles’ mother said, pride shining in her eyes. “Bread, cakes… all kinds. It’s my little wor
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