Chapter 255

Chapter 255

Carol must have sensed Emily's confusion, because she continued without prompting.

"Saskia was a wonderful, capable woman. It's just... she died young." Her voice carried the weight of old grief. "The businesses she'd managed went to her husband. But he wasn't a Howard by blood, and over time, he grew greedy. Started conspiring with others against us." She paused, her gaze distant. "We thought it was something we could forgive—at least Saskia's son seemed decent. But then his boy turned out to be cut from the same cloth..."

Carol trailed off with a long sigh, her eyes lingering on the photograph with unmistakable regret.

"Well. They've all been exiled abroad now. No connection to the Howards whatsoever." Her voice softened. "Such a waste. My beautiful sister, married to such a wretched man."

Shawn's gnarled fingers drummed against the table—a measured, controlled rhythm that belied the tension coiled beneath his calm exterior.

He frowned, his tone turning severe.

"Emily, you have nothing to worry about marrying into this family. The Howard code is absolute: a husband must treat his wife well. If Charles ever steps out of line, I'll discipline him myself."

Charles, suddenly dragged into the crossfire, shot his grandfather a look of pure bewilderment—the kind of expression that made him look impossibly young. He glanced at Emily, then back at Shawn.

"Grandfather, you raised me. You know exactly what kind of man I am." His voice carried an edge of wounded pride. "I've kept my nose clean my entire life. Before Emily, I'd never even been in a relationship."

Shawn's brow furrowed as he mentally catalogued his grandson's history—childhood through adulthood, every milestone accounted for. He cleared his throat, conceding the point.

"I was simply making a preemptive statement," he said gruffly. "Of course I know you're a good man. You and your father both take after me in that regard." A pause. "Though I'll admit, before Emily came along, I'd nearly given up hope of seeing you married. Started to wonder if I'd imagined the whole thing."

Truth be told, he'd even questioned Charles's orientation for a while—what kind of man turns down a corner office to spend his days surrounded by other men in the police force?

He took a strategic sip of water, derailing that particular train of thought before it could leave his mouth.

Emily watched the two of them bicker, warmth spreading through her chest. She squeezed Charles's hand gently, her voice soft with affection.

"I know Charles would never do something like that, Grandfather. You've all raised him too well."

Charles felt his racing heart settle at her words. He looked at her with something close to relief.

"See? She gets it."

Robert and Kelly exchanged simultaneous eye-rolls. The sight of Charles reduced to this—pathetic and puppy-eyed—was almost too much to bear.

The brief disruption lifted the heavy mood that Saskia's story had cast over the room. The conversation moved on—who to invite, where to seat them, how to orchestrate the whole affair.

Two hours evaporated before anyone realized it.

The gathering finally dissolved when both elders reached their limits, fatigue settling into their bones.

Emily and Charles retreated to their room. After quick showers, they slipped into bed.

The room was dark save for a single nightlight casting soft shadows across the walls. Silent.

Neither spoke first.

Emily closed her eyes, trying to summon sleep. It wouldn't come. She shifted positions.

Charles felt the movement and turned to face her, bringing them nose to nose in the dim glow.

"Can't sleep?" His voice came out rough, textured with exhaustion.

Emily's lashes fluttered. When she spoke, her voice was quiet.

"My mind won't shut off."

"Delbert?"

"Yeah."

The wedding itself didn't make her nervous—it all felt natural, inevitable. But Delbert loomed like a ticking bomb in the corner of her mind, impossible to ignore.

Charles's expression darkened. He pulled her close, his hand settling at the small of her back.

"We'll know who he is soon enough."

Delbert had covered his tracks well, but this was Charles's territory. With enough resources, enough pressure, cracks would form.

Gregory and Sean were working their angles. Charles had also hired a private investigator to shadow Delbert's every move.

"Whatever he's planning," Charles murmured into her hair, "it won't work."

He waited for her response.

None came.

He glanced down. Emily's breathing had evened out, her features relaxed in sleep. Charles loosened his grip slightly, rested his chin against the top of her head, and let his own eyes close.

Sleep. Tomorrow will be better.

 

Dawn arrived pale and hesitant, thin light seeping through the curtain gaps and pooling on the floor. Emily remained deep in dreamless sleep, her brow smooth, the previous night's tension completely erased.

Charles had been awake for hours.

He'd held her as she drifted off, felt the peace of it settle into his bones—only to have it shattered before sunrise by an urgent phone call.

Gregory. His tone carried an unfamiliar weight, clipped and serious. He'd found something critical. Charles needed to see it immediately.

Moving with excruciating care, Charles extracted himself from Emily's embrace. His fingertips ghosted across her temple, feather-light. He tucked the blanket around her shoulders, then padded to the balcony and eased the glass door shut behind him.

Only then did he answer.

"Talk."

The sound of rustling papers came through the line. Gregory's voice followed, tight with something that might have been apprehension.

"Charles, we've identified Delbert. It's... worse than we thought. Brace yourself."

Gregory paused, and Charles could practically hear him rubbing his temples on the other end. This felt like stumbling into a family crypt that should've stayed sealed.

Charles's knuckles went white around the phone. Last night's photograph flashed behind his eyes—that green-eyed boy standing at the edge of the frame. His throat worked.

"Just say it."

"Delbert's from Aetheria, yes, but he emigrated as a child. Changed his name. Both parents are dead—he was raised by his grandfather..." Gregory hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "His grandfather's name is Walter. His grandmother was Saskia. If my intel is solid, that's your grandfather's sister. Which means Delbert is your cousin."

The words hit like artillery fire—precise, devastating.

The world tilted.

Charles's grip on the phone tightened until the casing creaked. His mind went blank, then flooded all at once.

Of course. That's why he and Emily had both felt that uncanny sense of recognition. Delbert was the boy from the photograph—those unmistakable pale green eyes staring back through decades.

If that was true, then his intentions crystallized with brutal clarity.

Delbert had never cared about Windsor Group. His target had always been Howard Group. The Howard family itself.

And Emily—Emily had only been dragged into this ancient blood feud because she'd married him. She'd become his weakness. A weapon Delbert could wield against the Howards.