Chapter 312
Charles’s voice, deep and unmistakable, echoed from outside the room.
“Ms. Dahlia and Ms. Evelyn are inside.”
The moment the bodyguard finished speaking, Charles’s face shifted dramatically. It had been two years since Charlie passed, and Evelyn still hadn’t moved on. Her resentment burned bright-for him, sure, but even more so for Dahlia.
Now, with Dahlia bound to a wheelchair, Evelyn had her cornered. Charles’s expression grew icier as he made his way to the door. He tried the handle, only to find it locked tight. His face turned even grimmer.
“Evelyn, open up! Calm down and don’t hurt Dahlia!”
Dahlia perked up at the sound of Charles defending her. Her eyes gleamed as she shot Evelyn a vicious glare, wordlessly declaring: Evelyn, you’ve had it now.
Evelyn suddenly raised her hand. Dahlia, already rattled, flinched. But then she realized Evelyn wasn’t going for another hit-she was loosening the ties around her wrists. Dahlia’s eyes flashed with scorn.
She yanked the cloth off her mouth, sneering, “Scared now, huh? Too late for that!”
Treating her this way, Evelyn was sure to face Charles’s wrath. No sooner had she spat her insult than Evelyn kicked her again without hesitation.
“Charles, I’m in here, help me!” Dahlia cried, her legs useless. Seeing Evelyn gearing up for another kick, real fear gripped her. Pride be damned; she just needed to dodge Evelyn’s blows before Charles intervened-it hurt too much already.
Using her arms, she scrabbled toward the door, calling out, “Charles… Charles…”
Evelyn stood back, watching coldly
as Dahlia crawled desperately, like a wounded animal, toward the door, pleading for Charles. Just as Dahlia made it to the door, Charles, driven by worry, kicked it open and stormed
in
“Charles…” Dahlia stopped crawling, lifting her tear-streaked face to him, looking utterly helpless.
“Dahlia!” Charles’s eyes widened in shock at her state. Her cheeks, though free of distinct marks, were flushed an unnatural red-clear evidence of abuse. He quickly crouched to lift her off the floor.
“Ouch-” Dahlia winced as his hands touched her.
“Charles, be gentle, it hurts. I’m sore all over.”
Her words told Charles everything he needed to know-Evelyn had left her battered and bruised. The sight of Dahlia, so harshly mistreated, darkened Charles’s expression with anger. He adjusted his hold, careful not to hurt her further.
Dahlia clung to him, sobbing, trying to nestle against his shoulder. Charles hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. Dahlia’s face was streaked with tears and snot, and he had a mild dislike for such messes. Acting on instinct, he gently set her down in a wheelchair before she could get too close.
Dahlia looked momentarily surprised but quickly dismissed her doubts when she saw Charles stand and turn a steely gaze on Evelyn. How could she doubt him? He loved her too much to ever turn away.
“Eve, Dahlia’s already dealing with paralyzed legs,” Charles said in a low, steady voice. His words seemed to say that Dahlia was already suffering enough, and Evelyn shouldn’t have added to her pain.
Evelyn’s eyes grew colder, understanding his unspoken message. Two years ago, she’d stabbed him, and now, Dahlia’s time in a wheelchair seemed to be the price paid for Charlie’s death.