Chapter 387: Cutting Ties
If the Rivera family couldn't touch Charles, they'd go after his weakness. As long as Charles and Emily were together, she'd be a walking target. But once they divorced, Emily would no longer be Mrs. Windsor—and the Rivera family would lose their most valuable bargaining chip.
That was the root of Charles's decision.
The Windsor family had once supported Princess Isabella, while the Rivera family backed Third Prince Marco. Political rivalries were never about polite exchanges on the surface—they were about eradicating the opposition, root and branch.
Charles was in the open, the blade's edge. Emily was in the shadows, the handle.
If the Rivera family couldn't grip the edge, they'd hack at the handle.
Charles closed the agreement, a surge of pain flickering in his eyes for just an instant.
"What about the Campbell family?" he asked.
Nathan nodded. "Louis has already deployed people. As long as Mrs. Windsor stays within their protection perimeter... she'll be much safer."
Charles's voice was barely audible. "I'll make sure she walks away from the Windsor family's vortex."
Nathan lowered his gaze, silent for several seconds. Then, as if reaching some final decision, he pulled out his phone, opened a conversation thread, and hesitated before typing out a single line:
I never liked you. Don't wait for me anymore. Don't contact me again.
Send.
The next second, he blocked the contact.
When it was done, Nathan leaned back in his seat, expression flat, but exhaustion lingered in his eyes.
Charles glanced at him but didn't ask.
They both understood: in the Windsor family's current situation, entanglement was a cruel luxury.
Nathan's voice was low. "Starting tomorrow, I'll add another layer of security."
Charles closed his eyes, as if locking all his emotions into darkness. "Thank you."
The cabin fell silent.
Outside the window, clouds churned like a soundless storm.
Charles opened his eyes again, staring at that divorce agreement.
He told himself over and over: Divorce is so she can live better.
But every time he said it, the pain cut deeper.
The next morning, Emily arrived at the hospital carrying an insulated bag.
The whole way there, she'd been thinking: He was still in bed last night. How could he suddenly become so cold? Is he in terrible pain? Did he cough up blood again? Is he... hiding something from me again?
The elevator doors opened. The sharp smell of disinfectant mingled with something burnt.
Yellow tape cordoned off the VIP ward. Large sections of the walls were scorched black. Shattered glass had been swept up, but dark red stains still streaked the floor beneath the grime.
Emily's footsteps froze.
At the end of the hallway, she saw a row of body bags, neatly aligned. The air reeked of gunpowder and blood mixed into something sickening.
Her throat constricted. "What happened?"
A nurse, eyes swollen from crying, answered in a trembling voice. "Last night... someone broke in. Several doctors from our department, several nurses... they're all dead."
The bag slipped from Emily's hands. The soup container tumbled out, its lid cracking open. Warm broth spilled across the floor.
Her mind went blank. Only one thought remained: Charles.
She bolted toward the hospital room. The door hung ajar. Inside—empty. The bed was made so neatly it looked like no one had ever been there. Even the water cup he always kept on the nightstand was gone.
Emily stood in the doorway, suddenly aware of her own heartbeat pounding against her eardrums like a drum.
"Where's Charles?"
No one answered.
She turned to rush inside, but a bodyguard stationed outside blocked her path. "Miss, you can't go in there."
Emily looked up, eyes bloodshot. "Where's Charles? Is he—"
She couldn't say the conclusion out loud.
The bodyguard's lips moved, but he didn't dare respond.
That moment of hesitation was enough to push Emily into the abyss.
Her legs buckled. She nearly collapsed, fingertips clawing at the wall to keep herself upright. Nausea surged up again. She bent over, dry-heaving, but nothing came out—only tears hitting the floor.
"Emily!"
Kate came running from around the corner. Seeing her like this drained the color from Kate's face. She rushed forward to steady her. "Don't scare me like this! What's wrong? Sit down first!"
Emily grabbed Kate's arm like it was a lifeline. "Where's Charles? Last night... did something happen to him?"
Kate startled, then immediately shook her head. "No! No! Charles is fine!"
"Fine? Then where is he? Why is the room empty?"
Kate bit her lip, realizing she couldn't hide it anymore. She lowered her voice. "He left last night... flew back to Thalassia."
Emily froze. The tightness in her chest finally released, like a drowning person breaking the surface. But her heart ached so badly it felt numb. "He went back?"
Kate nodded. "He left in a hurry. Didn't tell anyone... I only just found out myself."
Emily closed her eyes. Tears kept falling.
He's alive. That's all that matters.
But he'd dragged his injured body out of the hospital in the middle of the night and left Seraphim—just to avoid her.
She wiped her tears, voice hoarse. "He deliberately didn't tell me, didn't he?"
Kate was silent for a moment, then whispered, "...Yes."
Emily looked up, the pain in her eyes sinking deeper. "Okay. I understand."
She stood, spine rigid. "I'm going back too."
Kate panicked. "Emily, don't be impulsive—"
"I'm not being impulsive. If he's running, I'll chase him. I'm not signing that divorce agreement. If he runs, I'll drag him back."
She paused, glancing toward the blackened, bombed-out corridor. Her heart turned cold. "Besides... it's not safe here anymore."
Kate nodded firmly. "I'm coming with you. Nathan told me to protect you."
Emily immediately rebooked her flight. She barely went back to her place—just had her assistant send her passport and essentials to the airport.
Before boarding, she stood at the security checkpoint, fingers absently tracing the edge of her phone screen.
She wanted to text Charles. But she was afraid that the moment she did, he'd push her even further away.
In the end, she only sent one message—to Louis: I'm going home.
When the plane landed in Thalassia, dawn was breaking.
She wheeled her luggage through the arrivals gate and saw a familiar figure in the distance—Simon standing amid the crowd. Though older now, his posture remained upright, his gaze steadier than before.
And in front of him stood three small figures, six eyes shining like stars.
Emily's steps faltered. Her eyes instantly burned with tears.
"Mommy—!"
All three children rushed toward her at once.
Jasper ran fastest but stopped steadily in front of her, tilting his head up to look at her. Ethan circled to her left and wrapped his arms around her leg. Emma reached out directly, voice soft and sweet. "Mommy, carry me!"
Emily crouched down and pulled all three into her arms. "What are you doing here?"
Simon walked over, taking her luggage. "Jasper looked up your flight. Said he wanted to surprise you. I couldn't stop him."
Jasper pressed his lips together, standing like a little soldier. "Mommy, you worked hard."
Emily's nose stung. She ruffled Jasper's hair. "How did you even find my flight?"