CHAPTER 183: CHAPTER 183- UNSUITED

Philip’s tight frown finally eased the moment he saw August and Charles appear. Silently, he stepped back, letting them pass through security first, giving space to the trio.

"Trista, say goodbye to Uncle!" Janice waved at Philip, who was already going through customs. That radiant smile, more beautiful than any flower, lingered in Philip’s mind. He raised his hand, waved back at her, then sealed that slender figure forever in his memories — and locked it away.

Maybe, just maybe, he had once felt something for her. But before it could even begin, he buried it deep.

"Bai...bye..." little Trista mumbled awkwardly to Philip’s retreating figure. Janice smiled proudly, kissing her little lips. "Good job, Trista!"

As Janice walked toward Charles, she clearly heard both Charles and August call out "Dad" in unison to Derrick. When Derrick turned around, Janice caught the glistening tears in his eyes. After bidding farewell, Derrick quickly disappeared into the crowd — afraid, no doubt, that his beloved son would see his tears.

"Let’s go!" Charles pulled Trista from Janice’s arms, then wrapped his other arm around Janice. August followed close behind. Charles’s mood was as clear and bright as a cloudless blue sky.

"You just called him Dad?" Once in the car, Janice glanced at his handsome profile and nervously asked. Charles never liked her bringing up Derrick — maybe because of past hurts. But Janice had long stopped caring.

"What, got a problem?" Charles started the engine, drifting away from August’s car as they headed home with Janice and Trista.

"N-no! Nothing!" Janice waved her hand quickly, flustered by his half-question, half-answer.

"Trista, say ’Dad’ again, let me hear it!" Charles raised his thick brows teasingly and coaxed the little girl. Trista clearly understood, puckered her lips, and sweetly said, "Dad!"

"That’s not fair! You were so cold to your daughter before, and now she calls you ’Dad.’ Why won’t she call me that?" Janice pouted, eyes wide as she stared at Trista’s shiny, bright eyes. Even though the past year was strange between them, they’d been inseparable lately — yet Trista never once called Janice "Mom."

She could say "Dad," "Brother," "Aunt," and even "Grandpa," but those easiest two words never came from her.

"Silly girl, she’ll call you when she’s ready. No need to worry," Charles said softly, gazing at Janice with a doting smile. More than once, he realized she was just like their daughter — a precious treasure cradled in his hands. Sometimes, she even felt more like a daughter than their own, making him want to give her the stars themselves.

"When Trista was born, she almost didn’t make it, right? Charles, why didn’t you tell me?" Janice’s voice trembled. A few days ago, she’d taken Trista to the hospital for shots and found the old records — how fragile the baby had been back then. Without Charles, maybe Trista wouldn’t be here today. Despite his coldness this past year, he’d taken great care of her.

The truths Charles had hidden all along only made Janice’s heart ache more when she finally learned them — the silent sacrifices he made, Trista’s near-death struggle. Back then, she had been blind to it all, ignoring the facts that were right in front of her. Now, all that remained was pain and bittersweet memories.

"Don’t dwell on it. You gave me a healthy wife, and I gave you a healthy daughter. That’s fair," Charles said, his eyes comforting her. Back then, both she and Trista were fragile, and only his arms were a safe haven. Those painful memories haunted him like a nightmare he’d never escape. Without that heartbreaking past, he wouldn’t have known just how much he couldn’t live without her...

"Thank you, Charles. For never giving up on Trista... and on me," Janice whispered, her mind struggling to imagine the torment, the agony he must have endured.

What kept them going until today was a shared, unshakable faith — a love that transcended life and death, binding them together forever.

Janice never expected that when she returned to Harold this time, she’d carry a lingering attachment in her heart.

Suddenly, her phone rang — it was Peggy. She’d heard everything from August. As Janice’s best friend, Peggy felt guilty for not being there when Janice needed someone most. They used to share everything, and now, seeing Janice safe and sound brought her relief.

"Oh my, little Trista is really beautiful! No wonder she’s already ’reserved’!" Peggy teased. The media had already caught wind of Trista and Callum’s childhood friendship. Janice had argued with Charles over it — they were just kids! Love could change anytime, and it wasn’t fair to tie them down so young. But Charles’s response left her speechless.

He’d even used Shaun’s reputation to guarantee Callum would marry Trista someday. How could they plan all this so early? Didn’t they worry Trista might refuse when she grew up?

Janice smiled helplessly and let Peggy take Trista’s hand as they crossed the street toward the restaurant.

Her eyes caught the large LED screen in the square, broadcasting news. A familiar figure grabbed Janice’s attention.

Years ago, Charles had cruelly taken over Louis Corporation, transferring its ownership to Janice’s name. But she hadn’t followed the company’s affairs since then. Now, she learned Charles hadn’t wiped out everything — he’d only targeted those who had hurt her.

Harold was left with nothing, Anila was in prison, Elvira had lost her mind — justice had been served. Louis Corporation was still managed by Ternence.

The news now announced his upcoming wedding. Janice stared at the long-unseen face on the screen — and standing beside Ternence was the alluring woman named Zoey.

Ternence was marrying Zoey.

Janice’s brow furrowed instinctively. She remembered a few fleeting encounters with Zoey. She never imagined Philip would actually marry that seductive, manipulative woman — someone completely unsuited for Ternence.

Janice’s heart tightened as the screen faded. Questions swirled, but she pushed them aside. For now, all she could do was watch quietly, clutching Trista’s hand a little tighter. The past was painful, but the future — uncertain. Yet, somewhere deep inside, hope flickered quietly.