At the moment the knife came at her, Dahlia didn''t close her eyes. She looked straight at Charles.
There was a sh of triumphant satisfaction in her gaze.
Charles really had raised his hand against her.
She had destroyed the man she loved most, right before her death.
But deep in her eyes, there was also an agonizing pain—bone-deep, soul-tearing.
The man she loved with all her heart truly hated her.
Hated her enough to wish her dead.
Amidst the tangled emotions, the pain she expected never arrived.
The knife was aimed at her heart, but just as it touched her chest, it stopped.
Dahlia''s eyes lit up with a desperate hope, and she blurted out, almost against her will, "Charles, you can''t do it, can you?"
"There''s still a ce for me in your heart, isn''t there?"
A cold, bitterugh escaped Charles.
He looked at Dahlia, his expression icy enough to freeze her soul. He changed the direction of the dagger, pressing it against one of her many wounds. "I just don''t want to dirty my own hands."
She wanted to drag him to hell with her-did she really think she deserved that?
He did wish he could tear Dahlia apart, piece by piece.
But for Dahlia, to stain his own soul wasn''t worth it.
Death would be too easy for her.
"Dahlia, your tricks won''t work on me. Wesley has already handed me the
evidence of your plot. I''ll personally see to it you go to prison."
Hearing she would live, Dahlia visibly rxed.
No one is truly unafraid of death.
Especially not someone as meticulous and self-serving as her.
Even her love had conditions.
If Charles hadn''t been wealthy and powerful, she never would have fallen for him just because of his handsome face.
Charles watched her expression with an inner sneer.
She thought prison was her escape route.
Little did she know, it would be the start of her real suffering.
He would make sure she suffered inside-worse than death-until the memory of Charlie and his grandmother could finally rest.
An hourter, the police, having received Charles''s call, arrived at the abandoned warehouse.
Dahlia was released from her restraints.
But as soon as she was free, her wrists were cuffed. "Dahlia, you are under arrest for conspiracy tomit murder."
Dahlia, barely conscious from pain, was ced in the back of the squad car.
When the police came to arrest Wesley, Charles stepped forward.
"Mr. Jenkins," the officer said, treating Charles with clear respect.
"Could you give Wesley half a day?~~ Let him attend his daughter''s
funeral. My people will be withel.ne
you he won''t get a chance
escape."
Thew rarely makes exceptions for personal pleas.
But Charles''s word was as good as a guarantee.
Wesley, sobbing, begged the officers to let himy his daughter to rest.
Eventually, the police relented.
Apanied by a couple of Charles''s bodyguards and two officers, Wesley was allowed to go to the hospital.
With Charles''s approval, Wesley saw Sandy onest time in the morgue.
When the white sheet was lifted, seeing Sandy''s battered body, Wesley broke down in heartbroken sobs.
At that moment, he regretted that he''d gone too easy on Dahlia.
Wesley took Sandy''s body to the crematorium, alone.
After the cremation, Wesley held Sandy''s ashes and let Charles''s men drive him back to his hometown.
There, behind his old house, he buried Sandy''s ashes with his own hands.
...
Charles didn''t go to see Sandy onest time. He didn''t attend her funeral, either.
After Dahlia was taken away, Charles called ke.
He asked him to follow up on the case.
Then, he went to see Rosa.
He knelt before her.
"Grandma you were right. I was a
I let you down. I let Charlie doeng. fool-I couldn''t tell right from wrone
I''ve
let Eve down, too."
"I know
resents me-she can''t
forgive me easily. But I won''t up. I''ll do everything I can to
forgiveness." Content beloet
her
Someday, he would prove himself to Eve, and she''d give him another chance.
Then, together, he''d return with Eve to visit Grandma''s grave. Grandma would be proud of him atst.
...