Chapter 23 Seduction
Charles returned home with alcohol on his breath well after midnight.
The motion-activated lights in the foyer illuminated as he entered. He tossed his suit jacket onto the sofa before heading straight to his second-floor study.
The alcohol hadn't numbed his nerves as he'd hoped; instead, it made the fragmented memories from six years ago even more vivid.
He sat at his desk, fingers hovering over the keyboard for a long moment before finally opening an encrypted folder.
Inside were Emily's records: crayon drawings from when she was three, high school award certificates, design sketches from her time abroad, and even candid photos of her working at Mirage Fashion without makeup.
Charles stared at the natural face on the screen, his frown deepening.
Why did she seem so familiar every time he saw her? Especially when she looked up defiantly, she resembled the woman in his memories so closely.
Outside the door, Clara adjusted the thin straps of her silk nightgown, the hem barely covering the tops of her thighs. Her skin glowed with deliberately applied shimmer in the warm light.
She admired her seductive appearance with satisfaction.
No matter what, tonight she would claim Charles! She would become the true Mrs. Windsor!
"Charles, still working so late? I brought you some milk," Clara called, her voice deliberately soft and sweet.
"Not necessary," came Charles's cold voice from within.
Clara's expression faltered momentarily before she quickly resumed smiling. She hadn't even seen Charles yet—was he really going to send her away?
For six whole years, Charles hadn't touched her once.
Why was it that bitch Emily could sleep with Charles, but she couldn't? It wasn't fair!
She refused to accept this.
"Your stomach has been bothering you, and you've been drinking. I just wanted to check on you."
Clara boldly pushed open the door, her gaze instantly fixing on Charles's face, her heart skipping a beat.
His brow was prominently defined, the arch sharp as if carved with a knife, exuding a natural authority.
His eye sockets were deep-set, his lashes thick and long, casting shadows beneath when he looked down, concealing the emotions churning in his eyes.
His perfectly straight nose had been sculpted with delicate precision at the tip, as if by God's own hand.
Even the slight movement as he breathed carried a forbidden allure.
Clara set the milk on the desk, then pressed herself against Charles's back. She deliberately pushed out her chest, allowing her nightgown to slip down, revealing her elegant collarbone.
Charles's hand froze as he moved the mouse.
Her fingers trailed across the back of his hand in a seemingly casual gesture.
Usually, even if he didn't respond to her hints, he wouldn't push her away. But tonight, he yanked his hand back as if burned.
"Get out." Charles's eyes held no warmth, like ice-tempered blades piercing straight through her.
The color drained from Clara's face, her fingers clutching the edge of her nightgown so tightly that her nails nearly broke skin.
She had thought her hints were obvious enough, believing that Charles would at least show some courtesy to his "lifesaver" even if he didn't desire her.
"Charles, I..."
"My patience is limited." Charles cut her off, his brow furrowing deeper as his gaze swept over her nightgown. When his eyes reached her face, a wave of nausea hit him.
For reasons he couldn't explain, a blurry face kept appearing in his mind—a face he somehow knew wasn't Clara's.
He remembered the woman from that night had a faint scent of cedar, that she trembled when she cried, that her hair was softer than Clara's... None of these details matched the woman standing before him.
Clara froze at his outburst, her eyes instantly welling with tears. "Charles, what's wrong? Did I do something wrong?"
She reached out to touch his cheek, but was roughly pushed away.
"Out!" Charles pointed to the door, the disgust in his voice undisguised.
Clara had never seen him this angry before and stumbled backward in shock.
As she turned to leave, she caught a glimpse of Charles's computer screen before he could close it completely—it was a photo of Emily!
The background showed Mirage Fashion's design department, with Emily bent over her drawings, her profile bathed in a soft glow of sunlight.
A chill ran through Clara as her nails dug deeper into her palms. So he was hiding in his study, looking at Emily's files!
No wonder he was so cold to her, no wonder he hadn't bothered to clarify the rumors swirling around them!
She left the study with clenched teeth, hearing Charles angrily throwing files to the floor as she closed the door.
Jealousy wrapped around her heart like poisonous vines as she silently screamed, 'Emily, I won't let you have your way!'
In the study, Charles sat in his chair, massaging his throbbing temples.
When Clara had leaned close, he'd smelled heavy perfume, completely different from the fresh, subtle scent in his memory.
What disturbed him more was his visceral repulsion to Clara's touch, while the flutter he felt when holding Emily's wrist had been so real it alarmed him.
Could it be... the woman from six years ago wasn't Clara?
Charles's heart began to race. He picked up his phone and dialed Nathan. "Back then, how exactly did you confirm Clara's identity?"
...
Clara's retaliation came with shocking speed.
Within just three days, the narrative online completely reversed.
The trending topic #Charles And Emily Romance# was replaced by #Gold Digger Emily#.
Social media influencers seemed to receive coordinated instructions, flooding platforms with "evidence"—photos of Emily and Charles together after her return were cropped to suggest she was "making eyes at him," old charity gala pictures of Clara linking arms with Charles were circulated to prove her status as the "legitimate girlfriend," and anonymous sources claimed Emily had been jealous of Clara since childhood and repeatedly stole from her.
The comment sections exploded.
[No wonder Mr. Windsor didn't clarify earlier—he was being stalked by Emily!]
[These wealthy families are so messy. Emily stealing her sister's man—have you no shame?]
[Poor Clara, having her relationship of six years ruined by her own sister...]
Emily's assistant's phone was overwhelmed with calls, and the company email inbox was filled with accusations and hate mail.
Looking at the vile words on her screen, Emily's fingertips grew cold, yet she remained calm, simply instructing her assistant to block all harassing numbers.
She had anticipated Clara would pull something like this, just not something so despicable.
She couldn't believe Clara would disregard Mirage Fashion's reputation this way.
Meanwhile, at Starlight Manor, the three children trembled with anger as they stared at the tablet.
Emma buried her face in a cushion, her shoulders shaking. "Why are they saying mean things about Mom? She's not a homewrecker!"
Ethan clenched his fists, his little face showing a coldness beyond his years. "It's Clara's doing. I knew she was up to no good."
Jasper silently scrolled through the vicious comments, a sharp glint in his eyes.
He closed the page and spoke with surprising composure. "Arguing back won't help. We need to make these filthy lies disappear."