Chapter 430: Resemblance
He deliberately dragged out the time, his gaze lingering on Fiona's face, showing no sign of raising his hand.
Fiona fell silent for a moment, a flicker of impatience crossing her eyes, but she didn't force her way past him either.
She could sense Nathan's concession. After a standoff lasting roughly three minutes, she raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "Last three minutes. If you keep blocking me, don't blame me for what happens next."
Nathan nodded quickly, gratitude flashing in his eyes. "Thank you, Ms. Hayes." The moment the three minutes elapsed, he voluntarily stepped aside, murmuring quietly, "Please, I won't stop you anymore."
Fiona shot him a cold glance, saying nothing more. Her footsteps were brisk as she headed toward the alley entrance, the icy aura around her softening slightly. A faint, almost imperceptible curve touched the corner of her lips.
Nathan watched her retreating figure, the daze still lingering in his eyes. He let out a gentle sigh, then turned and melted into the nearby shadows. Charles and Emily's conversation should be wrapping up soon.
Rewinding a few minutes—just after Fiona left Emily—a tall, frail silhouette emerged from the shadows at the alley entrance.
Charles wore a thin overcoat, his frame gaunt, his pallid face devoid of any color except for a barely detectable urgency and tension flickering in his eyes.
He'd calculated Fiona's cautious nature. He'd anticipated Emily's concern for the safety of the Campbell loyalists. He'd known she would tacitly permit this private encounter—from the moment Emily deliberately avoided his gaze on the dance floor, he understood she hadn't truly let him go.
This strategic calculation wasn't manipulation—it was desperation, a final gamble just to see her once more, even if only for a fleeting moment.
Charles approached the sedan and gently tapped on the window.
Emily slowly turned her head toward the familiar figure outside. Her heart instantly kicked into overdrive, her breathing growing ragged.
She hesitated for a split second before lowering the window. The night breeze carried the evening's chill inside, along with the faint antiseptic scent clinging to Charles. This man—the one she knew better than anyone—had haunted her dreams countless times over the past three years.
"Emily." Charles's voice was hoarse, his gaze burning as it locked onto her, the longing and tenderness in his eyes impossible to conceal any longer. No matter how hard he tried to restrain himself, his voice still carried a faint tremor.
Emily's eyes instantly reddened, her fingers clutching her dress so tightly her knuckles turned white, fighting desperately to suppress the emotions churning inside her. "Mr. Windsor, did you just follow me?"
Charles gave a slight nod, his gaze still riveted to her face. "Yes, I followed you. I couldn't help it. I missed you too much."
His candor was like a key, instantly unlocking the gates Emily had sealed away in her heart.
All her restraint, all her pretenses, all her pride—in that moment, they crumbled to dust. She looked at his pale, weakened appearance, at the longing that saturated his eyes, at the traces of illness lingering at the corners of his mouth. A bittersweet ache swept through her entire body. Tears welled up in her eyes but she stubbornly refused to let them fall.
Charles saw her reddening eyes, saw the way she forced herself to appear strong, and his heart felt as if it were being viciously squeezed, the pain suffocating. He hesitated no longer. Leaning slightly forward, he reached out and gently grasped her chin, his fingertips' warmth instantly seeping through her skin straight into her heart.
"Emily, I've missed you so much."
Those words, carrying endless longing and grievance, carrying three years of constant yearning and silent endurance, fell softly between them. Without waiting for Emily's response, Charles leaned in and kissed her fiercely.
This kiss held no hesitation, no restraint—only dense longing and desire. His lips were cool, carrying a faint medicinal taste, and the kiss instantly overwhelmed both their senses.
Charles kissed her forcefully, possessively, as if trying to make up for every lost moment of the past three years in this single kiss.
Emily's body trembled slightly, then she completely abandoned all resistance, allowing herself to drown in the kiss.
Neither could control their emotions anymore. The entire world now consisted only of each other's heartbeats, only this kiss saturated with longing and trembling desire.
Time became meaningless until they finally, slowly, pulled apart. Their foreheads touched, their breathing mingled, both faces flushed with lingering heat and disarray.
Charles gently wiped the tears from her face. Between them lay too much history, too much hatred. Some words, once spoken, left no room for retreat.
Emily turned her head slightly, avoiding his gaze, struggling to steady her breathing. Her cheeks burned, her heart still racing as if it might burst from her chest. She didn't dare look into his eyes, didn't dare touch that tenderness that made her unravel, and could only force herself to sound calm, her tone recovering a trace of distance. "Mr. Windsor, what exactly do you want?"
Charles drew a deep breath. He slowly straightened, leaning against the car door.
"I want to work with you. My partnership with Ace isn't solely about the Windsor family's interests—it's also meant to check Miguel and the Rivera family. There's something else you should know—Ace himself is also running for president. He and Miguel are direct competitors. He would never help Miguel. This works in both our favors—for what we both need to accomplish."