The Illegitimate Flame: Bride of Ashes
Chapter 59-perfect wife

Chapter 59: Chapter 59-perfect wife

Charles’s smile sent a chill down Harold’s spine. Only after carefully dissecting the meaning behind those words did he realize what this man was implying—

He was suggesting Harold hand over his elder daughter to another man.

Manfred.

That name wasn’t unfamiliar to Harold either.

As he exited Black Rock Co., Harold turned for one last look. The glaring sunlight framed the towering inverted-triangle skyscraper, making his eyes ache. It took a moment for him to regain his composure and sanity.

Should he continue relying on Janet for help... or let Elvira get close to Manfred?

Harold was torn.

From the 88th floor, Charles stood behind the venetian blinds, gazing down at the black dot far below. Though he couldn’t see clearly, he knew his words had hit their mark. Now, it was just a matter of watching the dominoes fall.

During his time abroad, Charles had delegated many of Black Rock Co.’s key projects to August. As for ZT Group’s deliberate interference, Charles had told Giles to turn a blind eye—as long as they didn’t breach internal confidentiality. Sometimes, giving your enemies enough rope was the best way to ensure they hung themselves.

"Giles, pull up Janet’s past records—I want everything, in full detail." He pressed the direct line to his assistant’s office, voice calm yet determined.

He had been contemplating this for a long time.

If he was going to reclaim everything for her, he needed to know every single part of her story.

Janet had slept the whole afternoon. By the time she came downstairs, the sky outside was already beginning to dim.

Seeing the warm light spilling from the kitchen, she hurried toward it, gently dismissing the housekeeper who had been preparing dinner.

This time, she wanted to cook for Charles herself.

Laundry and cooking—these simple, humble tasks were nothing new for the once-privileged second daughter of the Louis family. She had grown used to them.

When Charles returned home, the sight that greeted him was that of a serene woman in an apron, the long strands of her hair loosely clipped up with a crystal pin, revealing her slender, fair neck. There was a soft glow about her—gentle and calming. Even her movements carried a quiet, feminine charm.

He leaned against the doorway, silently watching the scene lit by warm kitchen light.

And for the first time, this place... felt like home.

"Looks like I need to marry you sooner, my sweet Janet—you’re too good at playing the perfect wife."

The clay pot on the stove bubbled gently. Janet, focused on watching the soup, was startled by the sudden voice behind her. Before she could turn, a pair of warm, steady hands wrapped around her waist. The familiar scent of Dior quickly drowned out the aroma of the kitchen.

"You’re back?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder, lifting her chin to look at him. Her slightly parted lips shimmered under the kitchen light—so inviting that Charles leaned down and captured them in a kiss.

His tongue slipped past her lips with practiced ease, teasing and tangling with hers, tasting her, nibbling gently. His hands, once resting innocently on her waist, had already slipped under her thin sleepwear, fingers working their way toward the clasp of her bra—

"Wait... go take a shower first. Dinner’s almost ready," Janet suddenly pushed him away, voice breathless.

Her flushed cheeks glowed under the golden light, delicate and translucent. Charles swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing once before he reluctantly let her go and turned out of the kitchen.

If he stayed any longer, forget dinner—he might just devour her instead.

He was now dressed in a cream-colored loungewear set, his posture elegant, damp hair swept back casually. The sharp contours of his face and the laid-back confidence in his walk made Janet stare in a bit of a daze as he approached her.

"Silly girl, is dinner ready? I’m starving," he teased, hooking a finger under her nose in an affectionate gesture that came so naturally from him it left her momentarily stunned.

Flustered, Janet handed him a bowl of rice. Charles had already begun eating, savoring each bite with a contented hum.

"My wife is amazing—every part of her is exactly to my liking," he suddenly quipped, winking at her playfully.

Janet rolled her eyes in mock annoyance, cheeks flushing deeper. "Who’s your wife?"

The word wife rolled off his tongue so naturally, her heart skipped a beat. Janet couldn’t help but realize—she was falling deeper under his spell.

She never noticed before how duplicitous he could be: the cold, revered CEO at the office, feared by all... yet always managing to say the most scandalous things to her when she least expected it.

"You’re already mine. If you don’t marry me, who’d dare take you?"

"Good girl."

Charles gently patted her cheek, the way a teacher might praise an obedient student. His tone was affectionate, almost teasing as he leaned in closer to her, his nearness once again sending a shy blush across Janet’s face. She silently scolded herself—why was she always so compliant when it came to him?

His voice had some sort of spell over her, luring her in before she even realized she was sinking.

Dinner ended in a flurry of exchanged glances and silent flirtation. When Janet instinctively got up to clean the dishes, Charles stopped her, not wanting those fair hands of hers to touch another drop of water.

"Let the maid handle it tomorrow," he said gently.

Janet only responded with three simple words: "I’m used to it."

Charles said nothing more, but there was a flicker of something tender in his gaze. He had long noticed that compared to Elvira’s delicate hands, Janet’s bore subtle signs of labor—slightly rougher, slightly worn.

Later, as Janet walked back to the room, freshly finished with the dishes, a thought hit her:

This villa had so many bedrooms.

Was she really going to share one with Charles?

She wasn’t exactly a conservative woman—after all, they had already crossed the line physically—but still, something didn’t sit right. She had been his sister-in-law, and now she was... this? Derrick would never accept it. And perhaps, she thought, she shouldn’t be hiding under Charles’s wing like some kept woman.

Just as she paused outside the bedroom door, footsteps stilling, Charles sensed her hesitation.

Several minutes passed before the doorknob finally turned.

When Janet entered, he was standing by the liquor cabinet, turned slightly away, his face partially obscured by the fringe falling over his forehead. Even so, she could sense the fatigue in his posture.

"You’ve been drinking?" she asked softly, stepping closer. The faint scent of alcohol greeted her immediately.

But before she could say another word, Charles had already pulled her into his arms, backing her against the cabinet. He kissed her with no warning—deep, fierce, almost desperate. As if he were trying to drown something inside him.

Janet’s lips parted in surprise, and she felt something cool and bitter slip into her mouth. She choked, coughing between gasps for air.

"I forgot," Charles murmured as he finally let her go, his breath slightly uneven. "You don’t handle alcohol well."

The memory came back to him—how they first met. She’d drunkenly climbed into his car that night, dazed and unaware... and he had taken her straight to the hotel.