Chapter 94
Willow had been lost in memories when Charles's words yanked her back to reality.
Forgive? He was forgiving her?
For a moment, she almost laughed. What had she done that required forgiveness?
"Charles," she said, blinking back tears as irony filled her voice, "do you need to accuse me of something similar to your own actions before you can admit your mistakes?"
Charles frowned. "That's not what I meant—"
"Then what gives you the right to forgive me?" she challenged. "What exactly have I done wrong?"
"You've been too close to Uncle Sterling lately," he replied. "And you took a job at the Lancaster Group without my permission."
His tone softened. "But I'm willing to overlook all that. If you like working there, you can stay—as long as you come back to me."
He'd thought it through carefully. Willow at the Lancaster Group could eventually work to his advantage.
With her abilities, she might climb to a senior position. If he ever needed leverage against Sterling, she could help from the inside. Besides, he was tired of this standoff between them.
Any warmth Willow had felt moments ago evaporated instantly. She'd thought Charles was finally acknowledging his mistakes, but even this gesture was calculated. He clearly still resented her connection to Sterling.
"That won't be necessary," she said evenly. "I don't need your forgiveness. What I want is an explanation."
She fixed him with an unwavering gaze that made Charles visibly uneasy.
"That night," she continued when he tried to interrupt, "you asked when Uncle Sterling and I became involved. If I recall correctly, you suspected it happened on our wedding night."
Charles fell silent, the color draining from his face.
"Shouldn't you have been by my side all night?" Willow pressed with deliberate innocence. "Why would you even have such suspicions?"
"Willow, let me explain—" Charles began, panic rising in his voice.
"Where were you after I fell asleep that night?" she asked, studying his alarmed expression with grim satisfaction.
"I was with you, of course!" he insisted desperately. "I was just talking nonsense—I was angry and not thinking clearly."
Willow observed his lies with detached calm. Revisiting that night no longer stirred any emotion in her.
Her silence intensified Charles's panic. Before, he'd only suspected she knew something. Now her questions confirmed it—she knew about that night! This explained her changed attitude toward him after their wedding.
His heart pounded as he studied her expression, trying to determine if she had actual evidence or was merely guessing based on his slip of the tongue.
After a long moment of tense silence, Charles stepped forward and took her hand in his.
"You can doubt anything about me," he said, placing her hand over his heart with practiced sincerity, "but not my feelings for you. All these years, you've been the only one in my heart. I believe you know that."
Willow felt the steady heartbeat beneath her palm and, for an instant, almost wanted to tear his heart out to see how Charles had managed to deceive even himself.
She yanked her hand away and walked out of the palace.
"Tear the house down," she said without looking back. "No one will return to it. Keeping it is meaningless—just self-deception."
With that, she turned and leave.
Charles was stunned by her indifference. Looking at the home he'd preserved for three years, he hurried after her.
Before he could speak again, Willow's phone rang. It was the hospital.
Her heart lurched as she quickly answered. "Ms. Spencer," came a tense voice, "your grandmother's condition suddenly deteriorated. She's in the emergency room now. Please come as soon as possible."
Willow's mind went blank, and she stumbled. Charles caught her arm to steady her.
"What's wrong? Is it your ankle?" he asked, not having heard the caller. "I'll take you to a hospital—"
"Grandma..." Willow clutched his sleeve, panic filling her eyes. "Something's happened to her. The hospital called—she's in emergency care."
Charles's expression changed instantly. After collecting himself, he said, "Try not to worry. We'll go right now."
He helped her to the car and started driving, but after a short distance, he pulled over, his hands visibly shaking.
"This won't work," he muttered. "Wait here—I'll find someone else to drive."
He returned quickly with a film studio employee who took the wheel while Charles sat in the passenger seat.
During the drive, he didn't say a word—not even attempting to comfort Willow. It was unlike him, but in her distress, she didn't notice his strange behavior.
When they reached the hospital, Willow immediately got out, ignoring her injured ankle as she hurried toward the emergency room.
Charles followed more slowly, watching her with guilt-filled eyes.
Maria's caretaker was waiting in the hallway when they arrived.
"Ms. Spencer, Mr. Lancaster," she acknowledged, standing as they approached.
"What happened?" Willow asked, her face pale. "I thought her condition was stable. How did it suddenly get worse?"
The caretaker glanced between Willow and Charles, hesitating as if unsure what to say.
Willow caught the look and immediately sensed something was wrong. She bit her lip, forcing herself to stay calm. "How long has she been in there?"
"About thirty minutes," the caretaker replied after checking the time. She had called Willow as soon as Maria was taken in.
The emergency light was still on.
Willow turned to look at Charles standing behind her. She opened her mouth to question him but found she lacked the strength.
Instead, she turned away and sat on a bench, her eyes fixed on the emergency room doors, silently praying that her grandmother would be alright.
If anything happened to Maria, Willow would never forgive herself.