Chapter 51: Who is charles

The hum of the desktop computer monitor was the only light source in the corner of Harriet’s private office. Outside the window, the city was a grid of cold streetlights and towering glass, but inside, everything felt completely static. The workshop downstairs had gone quiet as the late-shift tailors packed up their shears, leaving the upper floor in a heavy, suffocating silence.

Harriet sat back in her leather chair, her fingers resting loosely near the keyboard. The air conditioner clicked on, blowing a cold stream of air directly across her neck. Then, her phone vibrated against the wooden desk. The sudden buzzing sound made her flinch.

She picked it up. The lock screen showed a text notification from an unlisted, private number. There was no greeting, no context, just a high-definition video file ready to download.

Harriet tapped the screen. The file loaded instantly, revealing a wide-angle security perspective she recognized immediately—the white marble pillars and crystal chandeliers of her family’s main drawing-room at the Walter estate.

Her breath hitched as two figures appeared on screen.

The movement was too fast for human eyes to track completely. A blur of black fabric crossed the frame, and then Charles was there. His large frame towered over Hayley, his arm extended with brutal precision. With a single, fluid motion, he slammed Hayley against the concrete wall, his hand clamping around her neck so tightly that her twin sister’s legs dangled off the floor.

Even through the tiny phone speaker, the audio was terrifyingly crisp. The sound of Hayley’s back hitting the wall was a dull, heavy thud that resonated in Harriet’s chest. She watched Hayley clawing frantically at his wrists, her face turning an unnatural, deep red as she suffocated.

Then came Charles’s voice. It wasn't the voice he used when he held Harriet in the dark. It was a flat, gravelly rumble, stripped of any human warmth.

"Don't you dare think for a single second that I won't harm you just because you share her face," the speaker vibrated with his low snarl. "Killing a human like you is absolutely nothing to me."

The video cut to black.

Harriet dropped the phone. It clattered against the wood, sliding a few inches before stopping near the edge. Her hands were shaking so violently she had to tuck them under her thighs to keep them still. Her chest heaved as she stared at the blank screen.

The image of the protective, fiercely loyal husband who had saved her from the gutter completely shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. Hayley’s words from the night before echoed in her mind with a new, undeniable weight. You aren't his wife. You are his captured prize.

He had choked her twin sister. He had stood in that room and spoken about human lives as if they were nothing more than insects to be crushed under his polished shoes. And he had done it all while pretending to be her shield.

The heavy front doors of the fashion house swung open twenty minutes later, and the distinct, overpowering scent of a dominant Alpha flooded the hallway. Harriet didn't need to look up to know Charles had entered the building.

She quickly grabbed her phone, shoving it deep into the pocket of her coat just as the door to her private office pushed open.

Charles walked in, his long black coat open, his dark hair slightly windswept from the parking lot. His expression was calm, almost casual, but his eyes instantly locked onto her face. Behind him, Godwin stood in the doorway, his fingers casually adjusting his silk scarf, though his sharp eyes were tracking every movement in the room.

"It is late, Harriet," Charles said, his voice smooth as he walked over to her desk. "The workshop is empty. You shouldn't be sitting here in the dark."

"I was just finishing up the final inventory list for the gala," Harriet said. She forced her voice to remain steady, but as she stood up, her knees felt loose and unreliable.

The moment she stepped out from behind the desk, Charles closed the distance between them. He reached out, his large hand coming down to grip her waist, intending to pull her against his side as they walked toward the exit.

The second his palm touched her side, Harriet’s entire body went rigid. She froze completely under his hand, her muscles locking up as if she had been touched by live wire.

Charles stopped. His eyes narrowed instantly, turning a shade darker as his wolf registered the sudden change. The air in the small office grew heavy. To a regular human, nothing had changed, but to Charles, the room was suddenly filled with the sharp, unmistakable scent of pure, unadulterated fear. His mate was smelling like a prey cornered by a predator.

He didn't say anything until they were inside the back seat of the luxury SUV, the doors sealing them away from the outside world. Godwin pulled the vehicle onto the main road, driving with a quiet, unusual seriousness.

In the back, Charles shifted closer, his hand moving from her knee up to her thigh, his thumb pressing firmly into her fabric. He pulled her toward his chest, his possessive nature flaring because he could feel her entire soul withdrawing from him.

"Why are you shaking, Harriet?" Charles asked bluntly. His dark eyes searched her face in the dim light of the passing streetlamps.

Harriet kept her eyes fixed on the leather seat in front of them, her fingers clenching into fists inside her coat pockets. "I'm not shaking. I'm just cold."

"Don't lie to me," he murmured, his thumb digging deeper into her thigh, a silent command for submission. "Your pulse is racing, and you smell like you are waiting for a blow to fall. What happened at the workshop after I left?"

Harriet swallowed the lump of bile rising in her throat. She had to test him. She had to know if he would lie to her face. "I saw Hayley's new social media update before you arrived. Someone mentioned she looked... unwell. Like she had an accident at home."

Charles’s face didn't twitch. Not a single muscle moved in his sharp jaw. He looked at her with a calm, smooth expression that made her blood run cold.

"I told you before, Hayley won't be a problem for you anymore," Charles said, his voice steady and completely dismissing her concern. "She is a shallow girl who lives her life for an audience. Forget about her, Harriet. She doesn't belong in our world."