Chapter 389: A Night's Conversation
Father and daughter sat across from each other at the desk, the wind rustling through the trees outside while inside, the stillness brought an unexpected calm.
Simon started with business: "Mirage Fashion—what's your plan for the overseas channels? Have you suspended the Seraphim line?"
Emily took a sip of coffee, forcing herself to shift her thoughts away from Charles. "Suspended. It's not safe there right now. I won't be sending the team back anytime soon. Domestically, I want to tighten up both our direct sales and supply chain—especially the raw materials side—"
She laid it out clearly, her logic solid. Talking about familiar territory, she seemed to reclaim her footing.
Simon listened, then nodded. "Sounds good. You've built Mirage Fashion into something stable these past months. I'm proud of you."
He paused, setting down his cup, his tone softening. "Now—tell me what's really going on with you."
Emily's fingers tightened slightly around her mug.
Simon looked at her steadily. "You and Charles—did you two have a fight?"
Emily was silent for a few seconds. Then she stopped hiding.
She lifted her gaze, her voice quiet but crystal clear. "He said he wants a divorce."
Simon's brow furrowed sharply. "A divorce?"
Emily nodded. "He handed me the papers. Said he'd split everything down the middle—half the assets, half of the Windsor Group."
For the first time, Simon's expression showed visible shock—not pleasant surprise, but disbelief.
"Charles Windsor would voluntarily split the Windsor Group in half?" Simon repeated slowly, as if confirming he'd heard correctly. "Is he out of his mind?"
Emily gave a bitter smile. "I couldn't believe it either."
Simon's voice dropped. "This isn't normal. Money, shares, control of the Windsor family empire—those are all leverage to Charles. He wouldn't hand over that kind of leverage for no reason."
Emily's lashes trembled. "So you think... he's hiding something?"
"Absolutely. Emily, he's not an ordinary man. A sudden divorce demand, sudden massive concessions—there's pressure behind this. Or danger. Something you don't know about."
Emily thought back to that night of carnage at the Seraphim hospital, her throat tightening. "...I suspected as much."
Simon softened his tone slightly. "Stay calm. Don't let his emotions dictate yours, and don't go charging in blindly. What you need to do is figure out what he's actually afraid of—or rather, what he's trying to protect you from. Don't rush to back him into a corner. Give him time. And give yourself options."
Emily met his eyes. "So what should I do?"
Simon's voice was steady. "Be patient. Even love needs breathing room. You can pursue him—but don't do it with tears and desperation. Men like Charles, the more you corner them, the more they'll turn themselves into your enemy. You need to pull him back your way: show him you're not his weakness—you're someone who can stand beside him."
Emily's eyes burned, but she didn't cry.
She nodded, taking a deep breath. "I understand."
Simon studied her. "What are you planning to do?"
Emily was silent for a moment, then her voice emerged low but resolute. "I'll give him more patience. And more love."
She raised her eyes, a fire slowly kindling in their depths. "If he wants to push me away, I'll walk toward him step by step. I'll drag him out of whatever protective shell he thinks he's built—and teach him to trust me."
Simon nodded, as if acknowledging she'd finally regained her clarity. "Go ahead. But remember—keep your independence. You still have your children. You still have the Johnson family."
Emily answered softly, "I will."
Outside, the wind gradually died down.
For the first time that night, she wasn't crushed by the weight of Charles's "divorce."
She decided to treat it as a campaign—not to win a title, but to bring Charles home.
Emily barely slept that night.
After talking with her father, she managed to extract one clear thread from the tangle of emotions—she needed to find the root cause of Charles's erratic behavior.
She didn't contact anyone from the Windsor family directly; that would only tip her hand. Instead, she called Louis. The moment he picked up, she got straight to the point. "Uncle Louis, I need you to look into two things. First, the explosion at that hospital in Seraphim—I want every detail about what happened behind the scenes. Second, has the Windsor family been facing any new threats recently, either in business or in Seraphim's political landscape?"
Louis was silent for a moment on the other end. "Alright. Give me half a day."
Emily leaned against the study's floor-to-ceiling window, watching the sky gradually lighten. She forced herself to stay calm, her mind racing through every possibility and contingency plan.
The Rivera family? Political enemies of the Windsors? A business rival?
She refused to believe Charles would push her away without reason—just as she refused to believe a massive ship would change course for no reason at all.
However, Louis's callback came faster than she expected—and far more... clean than she anticipated.
"I've got answers. The hospital explosion—Seraphim police have closed the case. The perpetrator was an unemployed drifter with antisocial tendencies. His family member died in a botched surgery at that hospital years ago, and he'd been harboring a grudge ever since. He chose an extreme form of revenge. No connection whatsoever to the Windsor family or the Rivera family. It was just... an unfortunate accident."
Emily tightened her grip on the phone. "An accident?"
Louis's voice betrayed no cracks. "Yes. Police found a diary and homemade bomb schematics at his residence. The motive chain is airtight. He targeted the VIP ward simply because security there was relatively weak, making it easier to create chaos. Charles just happened to be a patient there. The bomber wasn't after him specifically."
The explanation was too perfect. So perfect it felt staged.
Emily pressed further. "What about the Windsor family itself? Their current situation—"
"Also stable. Windsor Group's stock hasn't shown any unusual volatility. Their major overseas projects are all progressing smoothly. As for the Rivera family, ever since their backed candidate Prince Marco fell from grace, they've been quiet. No recent moves against the Windsors whatsoever. Emily, I checked thoroughly. The Windsor family is currently... smooth sailing."
Smooth sailing.
Those words felt like ice water dousing every theory burning in Emily's mind.
No danger. No threats. No power struggles. No conspiracies.
Then why... why would he want a divorce?
Emily's voice came out dry. "I see. Thank you, Uncle Louis."
"Of course." Louis paused, then added, "Emily, don't overthink it. Sometimes the answer is simpler than you think."
After hanging up, Emily stood frozen, her mind blank.
The answer is simple?
What was that simplest answer?
The one Charles had said aloud—I don't love you anymore?
She wandered back to her room in a daze, wanting to occupy herself with something, anything—but found she couldn't focus on a single task.
She picked up her tablet, scrolling mindlessly, trying to drown her thoughts in an ocean of information. Just then, an entertainment notification popped up, the headline blazing in garish red text: