Chapter 18 What Happened Six Years Ago?
Charles grabbed Emily's arm and pulled her toward the office at the end of the corridor.
Emily stumbled as he dragged her, struggling against his grip. "Charles, let go of me!"
Charles ignored her protests and pushed her into the office.
"You'll stay here and think about what you've done! You can come out when you realize your mistake!"
Emily glared at Charles. "Think about what? I haven't done anything wrong. Why should I stay here? Charles, don't push it! I came to Mirage Fashion to work, not to play these games with you. Move aside, I'm leaving."
Charles remained firmly in place, showing no intention of letting her pass.
She completely lost her patience and raised her hand to push him away, but he caught her wrist in a tight grip.
The sharp pain made her gasp. She was about to lash out when she noticed Charles's gaze fixed on where their skin touched, his eyes suddenly becoming unfocused.
His fingertips inadvertently brushed against her forearm, and the sensation of her warm, silky skin sent something like an electric current through his body.
Charles's Adam's apple bobbed as fragmented images flashed through his mind—warm breath, cascading hair, and the same exquisitely soft skin. The memory was both blurry and burning hot, like that night six years ago when he'd been submerged in ice water.
This was abnormal.
He had always detested physical contact with others.
Even when Clara touched him, he felt uncomfortable. Yet now, holding Emily's wrist, he felt a strange reluctance to let go.
Her skin was like warm jade, soothing in a way that made him want to maintain contact, similar to the unusual tenderness he'd felt when holding Emma the other day.
"Let go of me! Charles, you're insane!" Emily's angry shout pierced his daze like an ice pick. She struggled forcefully, her nails accidentally scratching the back of his hand.
Charles snapped back to reality, the dreaminess in his eyes replaced by anger, but he didn't release her.
He had investigated Emily's background and knew she was practically invisible in the Johnson family, while Clara received all the attention, making Emily seem like a joke.
From his perspective, Emily's hostility toward Clara was merely the eruption of jealousy from years of being ignored.
"I'm giving you one last chance. Apologize to Clara, and I'll forget today ever happened."
"She spreads rumors about me, slanders me, and you want me to apologize?" Emily laughed, her shoulders shaking. "Charles, are you serious?"
She wrenched her hand away, leaving visible red marks on her wrist.
Charles's expression darkened further. "She's concerned about you, afraid you're heading down the wrong path."
"She's worried I'm doing too well, isn't she? Well, too bad for her. Six years ago, she tried to push me down the wrong path, but inadvertently helped me become better. I should actually thank her for my current success."
"Six years ago? What happened between you two?"
"What happened? Why don't you ask her? Ask your beloved girlfriend..."
"She's not my girlfriend," Charles suddenly stated.
Emily paused, wondering if that was really the point she was trying to make.
What did Charles and Clara's relationship status have to do with her?
But this revelation gave Emily something to think about.
As far as she knew, Charles and Clara had been involved for six years.
Before Clara came along, Charles had never shown interest in women. Even after living with Clara, Charles had never publicly declared their relationship.
It was strange.
Maybe the online speculation was correct.
Perhaps Charles preferred men, and Clara was just his cover?
That would explain why, after six years of living together, they weren't married and had no children.
Emily looked at Charles's tense profile, and her suspicions grew like wild vines.
The internet rumors suddenly seemed plausible—Charles's protection of Clara seemed more like duty than love; six years of living together without a hint of intimacy; even that hasty "She's not my girlfriend" sounded like desperate denial.
"Not your girlfriend?" Emily drawled, a mocking smile playing on her lips. "Then what is she? Just a tool to keep up appearances?"
Charles's brows instantly knotted together, as if she'd stepped on his most hidden pain. "What nonsense are you talking about?"
"Nonsense? Then explain why you've lived with her for six years without giving her any status. Is it because you can't, or you won't? Mr. Windsor, could it be... Do you prefer men? Is Clara just a shield you use to appease your family and the public?"
"Emily!" Charles roared.
Far from being intimidated, Emily's smile grew more provocative. "Did I hit a nerve? It makes sense. Mr. Windsor, with your status, if you really like men, you definitely need to find an understanding shield like Clara. I actually feel sorry for her, stuck with a relationship in name only, having to help you manage all those rumors and admirers. Looking at it that way, she's quite pitiful."
Charles's breathing grew heavier, like there was a ball of fire in his chest. He desperately wanted to find something to shut Emily's infuriating mouth.
But he was a man who would never raise a hand against a woman.
He stared at Emily's triumphant face and suddenly grabbed the intercom on the desk. "Notify everyone at Mirage Fashion to leave the building immediately. Not one minute longer!"
After hanging up, he didn't even look at Emily as he walked out, locking the door behind him.
Emily stared at the closed door and pursed her lips.
Was it necessary to get so angry just because she'd guessed right?
She walked to the window, watching employees gradually leaving the building. Her sense of triumph slowly faded.
Being locked in here was inconvenient, but the office had food, drinks, and a private bathroom. What was there to worry about?
In the past, she'd often stayed in her office for three days straight to perfect a dress design.
This brief confinement was just like working overtime.
She only needed to call Elodie to look after the children.
Emily instinctively reached for her pocket, then realized her phone was missing. She suddenly remembered that during their struggle, her phone had slipped out and fallen in the corridor.
What now? The computer—of course.
Emily went to the keyboard and started typing, but the screen remained dark.
The power in the office was out.
Not just the office—the entire building had lost power.