Chapter 189: The Most Familiar Number

Chapter 189: The Most Familiar Number

The bartender stood there awkwardly, completely at a loss.

Charles slumped back into his chair, slamming his phone down on the bar counter. His unfocused eyes fixed on the bartender: "You... help me make a call. Tell her... Charles is dying. If she doesn't come... he's really going to die here tonight."

The bartender stared at him in shock: "Mr. Windsor, this... this really isn't appropriate..."

"DO IT!" Charles growled, then recited a string of numbers.

Those digits were burned into his memory. Even in his most incoherent state, he could recite them perfectly.

The bartender had no choice but to pick up the bar's landline and dial the number Charles had given him.

It was already three in the morning, and the entire city was fast asleep.

The phone rang for what felt like an eternity. Just as the bartender was about to hang up, thinking no one would answer, someone picked up.

"Hello?"

A cool, slightly weary female voice came through the receiver.

In that instant, Charles, who had been slumped over the bar, shot upright as if struck by lightning. He stared at the phone with laser focus, even holding his breath.

Diana had been jolted awake by the persistent ringing.

"Hello, is this Ms. Johnson?" The bartender's voice sounded nervous.

"This is she. Who is this?"

The bartender glanced at Charles, who was staring at the phone like a predator, and swallowed hard. "I'm the bartender at Mist Bar. There's a Mr. Windsor here... he's completely wasted, refusing to leave, and he's smashed up our furniture. He insisted we call this number, saying if you don't come, he'll die here tonight."

Diana's grip tightened on her phone, her previously calm emotions becoming complicated as memories flashed through her mind.

"What does that have to do with me?" Diana's voice turned cold. "Call the police. Why are you bothering me?"

"Ms. Johnson, please listen—" Before the bartender could finish, she heard chaos erupt on the other end—the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, followed by Charles's slurred roar.

"Diana... It's me."

Charles had somehow wrestled the phone away from the bartender. His voice was fragmented from the alcohol, carrying a desperate humility.

"Diana... please come see me. Please, I really need you! I still love only you!"

Hearing his drunken confession through the phone, Diana's eyes welled up despite herself. She hated this man—hated his arrogance, hated his too-little-too-late devotion. But hearing that almost pleading tone, her heart still clenched painfully.

"Charles, stop this," Diana shouted into the phone. "Do you think hurting yourself like this will make me forgive you? You're only making me despise you more!"

"I don't care," Charles laughed bitterly into the receiver, his voice growing weaker. "As long as you come... even if you slap me... I'd be happy. Diana... I really... miss you so much."

The line went dead, leaving only the harsh dial tone.

Diana sat in bed, staring into the darkness of her room, unable to move for a long time.

Finally, she threw back the covers and got up.

Thirty minutes later, a white sedan pulled up outside Mist Bar.

When Diana pushed through the door, she immediately spotted the man huddled in the corner. He looked nothing like the CEO of Windsor Group—his shirt buttons were undone, his expensive suit jacket lay on the floor covered in footprints.

The bartender saw Diana and looked at her like she was his salvation: "Thank God you're here!"

Diana ignored the bartender and walked straight to Charles.

Charles seemed to sense something and slowly lifted his head. When Diana's cold face came into focus, he rubbed his eyes, his voice trembling: "Hallucination... must be a hallucination. Diana would never come. She hates me."

Seeing his pathetic state, Diana let out a cold laugh. She grabbed a glass of ice water from the table and splashed it directly in his face.

"Jesus Christ!"

Charles shivered from the cold, his mind clearing considerably. He wiped the water from his face and stared at Diana. After a moment, he suddenly threw his arms around her waist, burying his head against her stomach and breaking into sobs.

"Diana... it really is you? You didn't leave... You didn't leave, right?"

Diana froze in place, wanting to push him away. But feeling his violent trembling and the warm tears soaking through her clothes, her hands ultimately fell to her sides.

"Charles, what exactly do you want?" She closed her eyes, her voice carrying infinite exhaustion.

"I won't let go." Charles's voice was muffled but carried a sick obsession. "Unless I die, I'll never let go again. Diana, those two children... whoever they belong to, I don't care. Just stay with me, please!"

Hearing his "whoever they belong to," Diana felt a complex emotion surge through her. This foolish man was still obsessing over this even now.

Just as she was about to mock him, someone burst through the bar entrance.

It was Nathan.

Several bodyguards followed behind him, and he was holding a freshly opened document.

"Mr. Windsor! Ms. Johnson!" Nathan ran in breathlessly, his face flushed red with excitement.

Charles was interrupted and glared furiously at Nathan: "GET OUT!"

"Mr. Windsor, you need to see this first!" Ignoring Charles's anger, Nathan slammed the document onto the table. "A joint report from the private investigator and a new medical team! That previous DNA test was definitely tampered with! And this one—Jason's sample compared with yours in a new test!"

Diana's face turned deathly pale.

Charles was stunned. With trembling hands, he picked up the report. When his eyes fell on the final line reading "Paternity confirmed," he froze completely.

"Diana..." Charles looked up, his eyes filled with massive shock, wild joy, and the crushing guilt that followed. "Jason and Daisy are my children?"