CHAPTER 189: CHAPTER 189- KEEP TRYING

That night, Charles didn’t touch her—not even a finger.

Instead, he suffered through three cold showers, pacing the room like a madman while she slept like a baby. And when morning came and he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was her—bright, sparkly eyes looking up at him as if nothing had happened.

It only made him angrier.

With his hair tousled and brows furrowed, Charles looked every bit the furious husband. His voice was low, but the simmering tension underneath was impossible to miss. "How far along are you?"

He was both mad and worried. She was already a mother, yet she still gave him so much heartache. When she was pregnant with Trista, she had been critically ill. He hadn’t even had the time or peace of mind to enjoy the moment. But this time, he wanted to make up for it.

"Five weeks," Janice replied softly, holding up five fingers in front of his face with a sheepish grin. Angela had been right after all—her cold, arrogant husband was secretly passionate to the core.

Janice let out a small sigh and gave him a sideways glance, her gaze laced with quiet complaint.

"What’s wrong?" Charles narrowed his eyes. "Don’t tell me you’re already giving me attitude. You just found out you’re pregnant!"

He was well aware of how pregnant women were like little emperors. For the next few months, he would probably have to keep her glued to his side 24/7—one wrong move, and his entire world might fall apart.

"I just think... Trista’s still so little. And now there’s another baby coming. Isn’t it a bit too soon?" Janice murmured, her tone uncertain. She had planned to spend more time with their daughter, to make up for the past. But now, there was another tiny life growing inside her... She didn’t know whether to feel happy or overwhelmed.

"Too soon? Brian and Samantha had a son less than a year after their daughter was born." Charles frowned, then softened his voice. "If you’re worried about neglecting Trista, I swear—I’ll love our daughter just as much. Even with a son, nothing will change. Alright?"

"Oh? Who said it’s a son?" Janice shot him a glare, exasperated. This man had been whispering about having a son in her ear for months. Now that she was pregnant, he just assumed it was a boy?

"If it’s not—then we’ll just keep trying." Charles pinched her nose and tossed out those four words like they meant nothing.

"...What?" Janice’s jaw dropped. Was he insane? Did he think she was some kind of baby factory? Giving birth to Trista had been painful enough—physically, mentally, emotionally. And now he wanted more?

"Until I get my son," Charles added shamelessly, effectively leaving Janice speechless.

"Charles!" she huffed, flipping over to face him properly, her big eyes filled with indignation. "Why are you so obsessed with having a son? Two daughters sound perfect to me! I’m not going to keep popping out babies just to satisfy your ego!"

But Charles only looked smug, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Shaun and Brian both have sons."

Janice groaned and smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "Seriously? You’re comparing children now? What kind of childish logic is that?"

He could be so ridiculous sometimes. Yes, he was close with Shaun and Brian—but did that mean he had to match them in everything?

"Janice," Charles chuckled, grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss to her fingertips. His lips brushed over each knuckle, slow and sensual, making her squirm. "You’re only seeing the surface. Think deeper—Black Rock Co. is massive. Do you really want our daughter to inherit it all on her own?"

"...Well," Janice blinked, suddenly understanding his implication. She sighed and gave him a knowing smile. "You do have a point."

After all, life in the upper class wasn’t just about love and roses. In families as powerful as the Elwins, heirs weren’t just born—they were expected. And male heirs... carried weight.

"Mmm..." Charles let out a long hum, dragging the sound deliberately as his hand slid across her waist, palm pressing against her still-flat stomach. His warm breath fanned across the side of her neck. "Good boy," he whispered affectionately.

With his other hand, he laced his fingers with hers, curling them over his chest. "And good wife."

"Oh, come on—you’re heavy!" Janice protested as he pinned her down, her breath catching slightly. That devilish hand of his had already slipped under her pajama top.

"Not going," Charles said childishly, pulling her back into his arms. "I’m staying home today—with my wife and son."

His arm tightened around her waist like a vice, refusing to let her go.

"Close your eyes. Just a bit more rest," he murmured against her temple. He knew how important her sleep was—even though her past condition had stabilized, he never let down his guard.

"I remember you used to never skip work," Janice muttered with a pout. Her big, bright eyes sparkled mischievously as she peered up at him.

But Charles simply smirked, eyes darkening with dangerous heat. "Then again... if you’re not sleepy, we could just finish what we didn’t get to do last night."

"What?! No, I’m sleeping! Sleeping!!" Janice squealed and yanked the blanket over her head like a turtle retreating into its shell. She even turned her back to him, just in case he got any ideas.

Charles chuckled lowly. He didn’t push any further. After being tossed around by her all night, even he was a bit drained. All he really wanted was to hold her close and rest a while.

He wrapped one arm around her from behind, spooning her gently, and didn’t move again. With his heartbeat against her back and his warmth surrounding her, Janice soon drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

When Charles woke up again, she was gone.

The bed was cold beside him, and her scent lingered faintly on the pillow. But before he could panic, he heard her voice on the balcony—soft, sweet, tinged with a hint of laughter.

"Mhm, got it. See you later!"

She walked back into the bedroom just as Charles sat up, his expression thunderous. His gaze locked onto her like a hawk spotting prey.

Janice froze.

Her fingers curled tightly around her phone. "Wh-what’s wrong?"

"Give me your phone," he said coolly, extending his hand.

Bewildered, she walked over and obediently placed the phone in his palm.

The next second—

Smack.

With zero hesitation, Charles flung the phone straight out the window.

Janice barely had time to process it. She ran to the balcony and leaned out, only to see her phone disappear into the bushes two stories below.

"What the hell, Charles?!" she shouted, spinning around, face flushed with disbelief.

"You’re pregnant. No phones allowed," Charles said firmly, looking as calm as ever. A strand of dark hair fell over his eyes, adding to the dangerous charm he wore so well. Even his voice was commanding.

"Phones emit radiation. It’s bad for my son."

Janice opened her mouth to argue—but seeing his intense concern, the fire in her chest died down to smoke. She glared at him with wide, aggrieved eyes, then stormed off toward the bathroom to change.

"Sheesh! He’s only one month along! You’re being way too paranoid!" she muttered under her breath.

"Janice, slow down!" Charles called after her, already climbing out of bed to follow. "The floor’s slippery—what if you fall?"