Chapter 83 Good Mood
"You're talking nonsense!" Emily's heart plummeted.
How could Charles possibly know?
Elodie had sabotaged his paternity test, and even if Clara knew the truth, she would never tell Charles. How had he figured it out?
Charles let out a low chuckle, filled with certainty and long-suppressed anger.
"Ethan and Emma's paternity test report is right here in my jacket pocket. It confirms they're my children!"
"The report is fake!"
"You think that after all your interference, I'd just give up? Guess why I went abroad a few days ago?"
Emily froze. Could it be...
"That's right. I personally oversaw the testing and monitored every single step to ensure there was no chance of tampering. They are my children without question! Emily, even now, you still want to deny it? Have you forgotten what happened at Azure Palace Hotel six years ago?"
Emily stammered her denial, "Even if they are your children, I didn't give birth to them! I'm not the woman you're looking for. You've got the wrong person! Let me go!"
Charles watched her vehement denial, his eyes darkening to an impenetrable black, but he didn't continue to block her.
Emily finally managed to unlock the door in her panic, stumbling out of the car in complete disarray, rushing into the elevator, and disappearing from sight.
Charles leaned back in the driver's seat, watching that flustered yet stubborn figure escape. Rather than being angered, his lips slowly curved upward, a pleased aura radiating from his eyes.
Like a languid panther who had finally identified its prey, he wasn't in a rush to chase—he was savoring the control as the game reached its most intriguing phase.
'Keep being stubborn, Emily. Let's see how long you can keep running.'
He straightened his slightly rumpled cuffs, stepped out with his long strides, and walked calmly toward the executive elevator.
When Charles entered the top floor of the Windsor Tower, the reception desk staff and several passing executives greeted him with their usual deference. "Good morning, Mr. Windsor."
Charles nodded in response, "Good morning."
His face even bore a rare, almost gentle expression.
For a moment, time seemed frozen.
The executives exchanged glances, their eyes filled with terror. Charles had actually smiled while saying "good morning" to them?
The receptionist's palms were sweaty as she clutched her clipboard, her smile frozen on her face. The last time Charles had been this cordial was right before he'd cleaned house on an entire department.
Within five minutes, news of Charles smiling, nodding, and greeting employees during work hours spread through the Windsor Tower like a virus.
What followed was massive panic throughout the building.
"What's going on? Why is Mr. Windsor in such a good mood?"
"We're doomed! This is way too abnormal! Is the Windsor Group planning some major restructuring?"
"Our department was second-to-last in performance last quarter. Are we about to get axed?"
"Quick! Finish processing all those backlogged files!"
"Send word down—today's reports are due two hours early! Anyone who makes a mistake can pack their bags!"
...
The top floor office area began operating with unprecedented efficiency; even the keyboard clicks carried the urgency of the condemned.
After wrapping up some work, Charles rubbed his temples and pressed the intercom, "Ms. Johnson, come to my office."
Emily's hand holding the design pen paused. Since her frantic escape from the car that morning, she'd been deliberately avoiding Charles, wanting only to bury herself in work and temporarily forget that heart-stopping conversation in the underground garage.
"Mr. Windsor, what is it?"
"I'm out of coffee. Could you brew me a cup? Make sure it's made by your own hands."
Emily looked exasperated. "I'm not your personal assistant. I don't have time."
Charles's voice carried an unmistakable authority. "I am your boss, after all. If I say you have time, then you have time."
Emily reluctantly set down her pen, gritting her teeth, "Fine."
The CEO's office.
Charles stood with his back to her before the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the city skyline, his tall silhouette appearing particularly profound in the morning light.
A delicate coffee service was already set up on the nearby coffee table, with the coffee beans prepared.
She deliberately ignored the strange flutter in her chest, walking over to focus on grinding the coffee beans and heating water. The coffee's aroma gradually filled the air, somewhat dispelling the invisible oppressive atmosphere in the office.
Charles had turned around at some point, leaning casually against his desk, his quiet gaze resting on her.
She wore a well-tailored business suit, her head slightly lowered, with a few strands of long hair falling across her cheek. Sunlight streaming through the glass bathed her in a soft, golden outline.
Emily could feel that his gaze was lingering on her. She tightened her grip on the coffee pot handle, trying to pour the coffee into the cup, but that gaze was too intense. Her hand trembled, and several drops of scalding coffee splashed onto her skin.
The slight burning sensation made her frown.
Almost instantly, Charles was beside her.
Without hesitation, he grasped her hand, touching the reddened area.
Emily's entire body tensed, instinctively trying to pull her hand back, "I'm fine!"
"You call a burn 'fine'?"
Charles pulled her toward the nearby sofa. "Sit down."
Then he turned away, speaking in low tones into the intercom, "Bring burn ointment up here. Immediately."
Hanging up, he returned to her, dropping to one knee slightly, taking her hand again to examine it closely.
They were too close now. The crisp scent of cedar mixed with the rich aroma of coffee created an intensely invasive atmosphere of intimacy.
Charles looked at her downcast lashes, those butterfly-wing lashes trembling restlessly, betraying their owner's panic.
"Why do you always resist me? You ran away six years ago, too." His fingertip gently caressed the reddened area, sending waves of tingling sensation and stirring up certain buried memories.
Emily's heart pounded like a drum, the skin on her wrist where he had caressed burning more intensely than where the coffee had actually touched her.
She struggled to pull her hand back. "Charles, this is an office!"
"So what if it's an office?"
Charles not only didn't back down but moved even closer, his other hand bracing against the sofa back beside her, nearly trapping her in that small space.
His deep eyes stared intently at her evasive gaze. "Emily, is it really so difficult to acknowledge your past? To acknowledge the children?"
They were close enough to feel each other's breath, the temperature rising rapidly.
Just as Emily was being pressed with nowhere to retreat, her face flushed and ears burning, on the verge of losing control—
The heavy, solid wood door of the CEO's office was violently shoved open from outside, crashing against the wall with a heavy thud.