CHAPTER 177: CHAPTER 177- JANET...? JANICE...?

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Charles murmured, his voice low but sincere.

Though he hadn’t realized it back then, the moment he met her at eighteen—that elfin girl who appeared out of nowhere and lit up his world—that had been the beginning of everything. The beginning of love. The beginning of his heart’s awakening.

"Wait... you had feelings for me then? But I was totally drunk that night!" Janice blinked at him in disbelief, her mouth slightly agape. If he had fallen for her after she was forced to marry Philip and stayed by Charles’ side—that she could accept. But a drunken mistake? She barely even remembered it.

Charles chuckled and tapped the tip of her nose. "Silly girl. I’m talking about twelve years ago—the first time we met."

"Twelve years ago?" Janice echoed, her brows furrowed in confusion.

She’d still been just a little girl then. The carefree princess living happily by Cornelia’s side. How could they possibly have known each other back then?

"You don’t remember? It was at the River Villa. I accidentally hit you with my car." Charles’ eyes softened at the memory. "That was the first time I saw eyes that clear... like they’d never been touched by the world."

He had seen her then—like a fallen angel with eyes that mirrored the skies.

That day, little Janice had accompanied Cornelia to the Louis residence to see Harold, only to be driven away by Anila. On their way down the hill, she was nearly hit by a car—his car. A young, handsome boy stepped out and handed her a handkerchief.

Back then, Janice had been too stunned by his cold demeanor to even respond properly.

That same day, the coastal resort was engulfed in flames. Cornelia had died protecting her. Janice’s head was struck—almost causing irreversible damage. It had all started with Anila... and her daughter.

It turned out their encounter had already been written in fate. That blurry figure in her childhood memories—that cold, proud teenager—was the very man she had married today.

"It was you..." Janice whispered, eyes wide with stunned realization. Her breath caught as her heart fluttered—so many pieces falling into place.

The scent on him... that familiar Dior fragrance she’d always been drawn to...

So it had been him all along.

"Now do you believe me?" Charles smiled as he tilted her chin up gently, letting her study every detail of his face—as if to match it to that shadow in her memories. And the moment their eyes met, all she felt was love.

More love than ever before.

"I believe you. Charles... meeting you is the greatest blessing of my life." Janice wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest, breathing in his scent—warm, steady, unforgettable.

"No. You are the miracle of my life." He whispered into her hair. His world had once been filled with nothing but hatred and darkness. But her presence had brought color and light. She had softened the coldest parts of him. She was the one who made him believe in love—the kind of love that Shaun and Brian had passed down to him.

There truly was one woman in this world who could make him surrender everything, willingly.

And that woman... was Janice.

Their kisses deepened, breath mingling, hearts syncing—as if their souls had finally caught up with the years they had lost.

"I missed you so much... it hurt," Charles murmured, tugging at her robe. His hands found her curves, his palm imprinting every contour with reverence. Her scent enveloped him like a dream—sweet, familiar, addicting.

"I’m sorry, Charles... let me make it up to you with the rest of my life." Janice arched into his touch, her voice trembling with emotion. The years hadn’t dulled her beauty—she had only grown more radiant, more captivating. And Charles... could no longer look away.

Their clothes slowly fell away, like autumn leaves—each layer baring trust, love, and everything they had hidden.

He kissed her like he was praying—fingers reverent, movements gentle—as if she were porcelain, too precious to ever hurt again. His lips traced every inch of her, until finally, he entered her with a slow, aching longing.

Tight. Warm. Trembling.

The overwhelming sensation swallowed him whole.

In that moment, it was not just their bodies that reconnected—it was every shattered piece of their past, reforged into something whole

"You’re so... tight..." Charles whispered hoarsely, his breath ragged as he moved carefully within her.

His hips thrust with controlled restraint—each motion slow and deliberate, as if afraid to hurt her. It had been nearly two years since he last touched her, especially after the pregnancy. Yet even with desire burning in his veins, he still prioritized her comfort over his own longing.

Janice, feeling the tenderness behind his strength, was overwhelmed. Her arms wrapped around his back, and her slender legs lifted instinctively to circle his waist—an unspoken invitation, an intimate promise.

The moment she moved, Charles understood. He no longer held back.

The warmth of her body, the way she fit him so perfectly, sent his mind into a haze of euphoria. Every rhythm, every gasp, brought them closer—again and again, until the world melted away and all that remained was them.

Their lovemaking lasted deep into the night, the moonlight their only witness. By the time dawn arrived, they were still tangled in each other’s arms, hearts beating in sync, breaths mingled with sweetness.

"Charles!" Janice suddenly gasped, sitting up with a start.

The man beside her—breathtakingly handsome and unapologetically bare—lay sprawled across the sheets. The memories of last night came rushing back, and her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. Unable to bear it, she quickly buried her face in her hands.

For a year, every morning she’d woken up alone, calling out his name as if he could somehow appear beside her. Now that he was really here, within reach, the happiness swelling in her chest was almost too much to contain.

The kisses he’d left on her skin had bloomed into visible traces—proof of the night they’d shared.

Janice gently pulled the covers over his sleeping figure and slipped out of bed. Watching him sleep so soundly, eyebrows finally relaxed without their usual tension, she bent down to press a soft kiss between them. Then, slipping into her robe, she quietly made her way to Trista’s room.

She owed both of them—Charles and Trista—a lifetime of love to make up for all the pain.

Charles, still half-asleep, reached instinctively for her warmth beside him. When his arm met only cool sheets, his eyes snapped open, a sharp edge of panic twisting in his chest.

"Janet...? Janice...?"

He sat up abruptly, tension coursing through him, and was just about to head out to search for her when—

"Janice..."

The door opened.

She walked in, arms cradling a sleepy Trista. Charles had hastily thrown on a bathrobe, his hair disheveled, his face unusually tense. Janice paused, then gave him a soft, radiant smile.

"You’re awake?"

Trista’s eyes lit up the moment she spotted him. She squirmed in Janice’s arms, reaching out eagerly. "Daddy! Daddy!"

But Charles stood frozen, his face darkening.

She’d gone to their daughter first. She hadn’t kissed him good morning, hadn’t even looked for him. Just... disappeared. And now she returned smiling, all her attention on the little girl in her arms.

A sour feeling settled in his chest.

Charles didn’t move to take Trista. His jaw clenched slightly, the flicker of jealousy flaring once more—this time, even toward his own daughter.