He never had many won around him — and yet, she was the only one who truly mattered.
Won, to him, were always a source of trouble. Yet sohow, she had effortlessly broken through his defenses. When they first t, she was still his nominal sister-in-law.
"So, what was your relationship with that Ivanka? Did you ever have feelings for her?" Janice asked, her voice edged with suspicion. She’d heard everything about Charles when she first joined Black Rock Co. — how he was almost entirely free from scandal. Unlike Shaun, smooth-talking, or Brian, calculating, Charles was stubbornly loyal in love. Once he claid a woman, he owned her with fierce, unyielding devotion. That kind of man was irresistible.
"I told you, it was just professional admiration. What are you thinking about?" Charles lightly tapped her forehead, annoyed. He wished he could show her his heart — she kept digging up old ghosts. To him, Ivanka was only a fleeting shadow. The mont he saw her clear eyes, he thought of Janice. He struggled, hesitated, even thought about giving up on Janice. But whether she was his secretary or his ’sister-in-law,’ he couldn’t let go. That night she beca his sister-in-law, her first ti was also his first unconditional acceptance of a woman.
"What? Can’t I ask? You seed closer to her than to back then..." Janice complained, recalling Charles’s cold distance. What she didn’t know was how close he had been, yet she had pushed him away ti and again, rejecting, avoiding, even fleeing. A man of flesh and blood, deeply in love, only to be treated like poison. Through Ivanka, he tried to find Janice’s shadow, but no other woman could ever replace her.
"Stop talking nonsense. Don’t you know who’s in my heart?" Charles caught her hand, pressing it over his chest. The fierce, rapid heartbeat nearly burned Janice’s palm.
He had been proud and untouchable, worlds apart from her. She wasn’t immune to his charm — but she doubted she could ever ta this iceberg.
Yet, even the coldest ice begins to lt under warm sunlight, and he had lted completely in front of her.
"I know, Charles. I believe you," Janice whispered, hearing the steady pounding in his chest. She recalled all he’d given her — body and soul — fighting through despair, never giving up.
"Janice, rember, you’re the only woman in my life," he vowed. The one and only.
"So, before , you never had anyone else?" Janice smiled brightly, raising her head. A man like him — successful, mature, irresistibly charming — surely had his share of admirers before true love found him.
Even Shaun was a notorious playboy before Angela. Yet Charles, this perfect man, had kept himself pure.
"You’ve been with long enough — don’t you know no other woman ever got close?" Besides his assistant Novia and her, no one could approach him. Janice knew his habits better than anyone. No smoking, no drinking, no chasing won — a flawless man who ended up in her arms. Yet, she had hurt him ti and again before truly cherishing him.
Thankfully, it wasn’t too late. They had a lifeti to treasure each other. She would love him as deeply as he loved her — to the very bone.
"So, that ans my first was your first too... but sohow, it doesn’t feel like it," Janice teased. Though she’d been drugged that night, she still felt it — his experienced touch, the way he made her transform from girl to woman through pain and passion. That wild night, he claid her endlessly. She never expected Charles had also been a first for soone.
"Idiot, n and won can’t be compared in these things. Need to prove it to you?" That night, when he saw her again, it was like he was the one drugged. Seeing that beautiful body, he pounced like a wolf starved for his prey. He never realized just how much a man could long for a woman—until her. Yet, he was grateful—they were each other’s one and only.
Charles wasn’t a conservative man. People say n think with their lower halves, but in the twenty-plus years before Janice, he’d never once felt desire for another woman—not even physically. Then she ca along and showed him what real passion ant. His heart and body belonged only to her, because she was the only woman who ever entered his soul.
Or maybe it all started when he was eighteen—the mory of those clear, honest eyes made him know she was the one.
"Charles... thank you," Janice whispered, burying her face in his chest as tears slipped down her cheeks. To be loved by him was a gift from fate. All past pain and resentnt felt aningless when he was by her side.
"Really wanna thank ?" Charles teased in her ear, his warm lips sealing hers in a wet, demanding kiss.
"Mm..." Janice’s soft moan was both a reply and a reaction to his touch. Her cheeks flushed crimson as he kissed her deeply.
"Then how about giving a son?" Charles grinned wickedly, flipping her beneath him. His strength and passion were endless when it ca to her.
"Oh, stop it..." Janice’s coy protest floated into his ears, only fueling his animal desire to cherish her fiercely.
Both of them regretted missing out on Trista’s birth, but Charles understood her heart completely. He vowed to make it up in a different way—help her fulfill her dream of motherhood and the joy of watching their child co into the world.
Ternence’s wedding was scheduled for a week later. Janice struggled with the decision for days before finally deciding to attend.
If she could forgive Derrick—who had once hurt Charles, even caused her to lose a child—then she had no reason to keep resenting her own biological father.
On the day of the wedding, the venue was flooded with guests. It was grand, luxurious, and filled with celebration. Janice wore a light pink dress, her delicate features touched with soft makeup. She looked radiant and fresh, standing beside the tall and dashing Charles. The two of them together were dazzling, like they had stepped straight out of a fairytale.
She caught sight of the groom—Ternence. Tall, handso, composed. Their eyes t across the crowd. Ternence smiled warmly at the sight of her and nodded politely at Charles before turning his gaze back to the approaching bride.
"The bride’s stunning," Janice remarked as she looked at Zoey, who was wearing a strapless, form-fitting white wedding dress that showed off every curve with confidence. She nudged Charles playfully. "What do you think?"
"Average," Charles said with an arrogant lift of his chin, not even sparing the radiant couple a glance. Zoey, however, caught sight of the dark silhouette that stood out among the crowd—Charles. Her expression faltered for a brief second, but when she t Ternence’s tender gaze, her lips curled into the proud smile of a princess.
She had once given Ternence a hint—if he ever ca back to France for her, she would give him another chance. And now, he had. Among all the n who had co and gone in her life, only Ternence had given her a sense of peace. So say if you can’t marry the one you love, marry the one who loves you. Ternence was the man Zoey had chosen.
And for that, she followed him back to L.A. without hesitation.
"In my eyes, my wife is still the most beautiful," Charles said suddenly, his hand sliding around Janice’s waist. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered just loud enough for both of them to hear.
Janice’s heart blood with joy. His words weren’t flattery—they were a fact, stated so naturally that she lted in the warmth of his voice.
Harold, seeing the two of them appear together, couldn’t hold back his tears. For him, being forgiven by Janice was his greatest wish. His daughter, like Cornelia, had a heart too pure, too selfless—capable of forgiving him and embracing the pain he once caused.
Janice noticed the glimr in Harold’s eyes as he turned around unexpectedly. Though she stood at a distance, their gazes t across the crowd. And Harold, reading the emotions in her eyes—those bright, expressive eyes—understood her ssage clearly: Mom never hated you, and I’ve forgiven you too.
After the ceremony, Janice and Charles didn’t stay for the reception. They quietly left, hand in hand. Charles shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over her bare shoulders. Then, as if sharing a silent agreent, they decided to take a walk in the soft breeze of the evening.
Charles made a quick call to Giles to pick up the car, and then guided Janice down the nearby path, arm around her waist.
The last rays of the sunset cast a deep amber hue across their figures. Behind them, their shadows overlapped—a tall one and a small one—intertwined like climbing wisteria, wrapped tightly, inseparably.
She couldn’t quite recall the last ti she and Charles had strolled like this. Their shared mories—Paris, Hawaii—were flashes of joy and passion. But now, this mont, so ordinary and peaceful, carved itself into her heart as sothing just as precious.
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