"Are you cold?"
Spring was just around the corner, but Janet had spent nearly the entire harsh winter confined to her room. Ti had quietly slipped away, and she hadn’t even felt the bite of the season.
Wrapped in Charles’s long overcoat, she sat on his lap, her heavily pregnant belly pressing gently against him. His strong jaw rested on her shoulder, one arm loosely encircling her waist, the other toying with strands of her hair.
The warmth of his chest seeped into her skin, offering silent comfort. A chilly breeze brushed across her cheek, and she instinctively leaned closer into his embrace. After a long pause, she let out a soft, wistful sigh.
"Charles... do you think our baby will be healthy?"
There was a deep, unshakable unease in her voice. She had a feeling—almost like a mother’s curse—that the baby hadn’t been well taken care of. During her monts of confusion, she might’ve even hurt the child unknowingly. The doctor had said more than once: it was a miracle the baby had survived this long.
Charles’s hand covered hers, pressing gently over the swell of her stomach. "She’s my child. Of course she’ll be healthy," he said firmly, though his voice was tender. "Don’t worry. Nothing will happen to our baby."
The scent of her hair lingered in the air. He closed his eyes, savoring this rare, peaceful mont with her.
Janet tilted her head, her voice soft. "Then... what na would you give our daughter?"
Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she turned to face him. She didn’t need sight to feel the way he looked at her—with a love that lted into every inch of her.
Charles pressed a kiss to her lips, light as air. Then he paused as though in thought, tightening his grip on her fingers. "How about Trista Elwin...?"
Trista. Her na. Was he hoping their daughter would inherit her joy, her light, her very soul?
Tears shimred in Janet’s eyes as she nodded. How could she not feel the depth of love Charles poured into this na?
"Trista... It’s beautiful," she whispered, repeating the na under her breath like a prayer. All she wanted now was for heaven to place every hardship on her shoulders—so her little girl could live a carefree life, healthy, happy, untouched by pain.
"Silly girl," Charles chuckled, tapping the tip of her nose. Her childish wish made him smile, but his eyes held a sadness, a desperate desire to freeze this fleeting mont. If only ti could stop here. If only today could last forever.
"Charles..." Her voice trembled as dizziness washed over her. Gripping the front of his shirt, she pleaded, "If I ever forget you again... give a sedative. That kind of confusion... it hurts too much."
She would rather live with a pounding headache and rember the man she loved most than forget everything and float in a blank, lifeless void. That emptiness made even breathing feel unbearable.
"No, Janet," Charles murmured, holding her tighter. "I’ll stay with you... I’ll be here..."
He would fall with her, suffer with her—because at least then she was alive. He didn’t want her to beco a lifeless doll, eyes closed and soul gone. That scared him more than anything.
He was selfish. Selfish enough to want to hold her forever. Selfish enough to want her hand in his, never letting go. Just this—just her, breathing in his arms.
Peggy had only learned about Janet’s condition through August.
Ever since Charles handed over the company’s key accounts to August, collaborations between the Pei Corporation and Black Rock Co. had deepened. And that naturally brought her and August closer.
As she got to know him more, she realized he truly was exactly as she’d imagined—clean, distant, almost too perfect. He always wore white, kept to himself, and stayed far away from won. Although he sotis hinted he wasn’t a "good man," Peggy could tell there was sothing painful in his past. But she didn’t want to dig it up.
She liked the August in front of her—the man he was now. No matter who he used to be, she liked him all the sa.
When Janet stopped coming to the office, and Charles disappeared as well, Peggy grew suspicious. August refused to talk about it, and she didn’t push. But when she tried calling Janet, there was no answer—not even once. That had never happened, not even when Janet was overseas in Paris. Sothing wasn’t right.
Even Manfred, when asked, remained silent. That only confird Peggy’s fears.
"Is she sick? Is it serious?" she asked August, surprised by the reluctance in his voice. He looked like he was holding sothing back—perhaps even the truth itself.
But even August hadn’t seen Janet again.
And that scared Peggy more than anything.
"Yeah. She’s under Charles’s full protection now," August said calmly, his tone smooth and composed. "Janet is pregnant."
Peggy’s lips parted slightly in shock, but before she could speak, August’s matter-of-fact explanation left no room for further questions.
"I see..." she murmured, nodding slowly. The surprise in her expression gradually softened into understanding.
So that was why Janet had disappeared. Because she was pregnant—Charles had locked her away, hidden her from the world. It was the only explanation that made sense.
Still, a knot of unease tightened in Peggy’s heart. For so reason, she couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at her.
"Charles, there’s news about Dr. Corrine." Shaun’s voice carried both urgency and excitent. "He’s in Italy. I’ve already contacted Reyn—he’s using his network to locate Corrine. No matter the cost, we’ll get him to agree to the surgery. All we need now is for Janet to deliver the baby."
A glint of sothing fierce shone in Shaun’s eyes. With Reyn—Italy’s mafia godfather himself—personally involved, success was almost guaranteed.
Charles’s sharp features remained calm, but the tension in his eyes gave him away. This wasn’t just business. This was everything.
He was grateful—deeply grateful—for the brother who stood beside him now, just like he always had. Through blood, through fire, through life and death.
"Then we’ll prepare for hospitalization imdiately," Charles said, voice low but steady. "She’s seven months along. We can proceed with a C-section and get the baby out. There’s no ti left—we do it now."
He weighed every risk, every consequence. As long as he could ensure the safety of both mother and child, he was ready to bear anything.
"Charles, relax," Shaun said firmly, placing his hand over Charles’s in a rare show of vulnerability. "They’ll both make it. I swear."
Their eyes locked—no grand speeches, no need for more words. Between them was a silent trust, a bond stronger than blood. They would move mountains together if that’s what it took.
"But... Charles, are you sure about this?"
Janet’s voice was barely more than a whisper, trembling with hesitation.
A premature birth... Her fragile body... The migraines that still haunted her daily... How could she take that risk?
She had dread of experiencing it all—of feeling every contraction, every wave of pain, of truly rembering the mont life was pulled from her body. She wanted it seared into her mory as sothing real, raw, unforgettable.
Was she really ready to give that up?
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