Chapter 381 Laying the Truth Bare
Charles's words carried a faint edge of self-mockery.
To Gabriella, they landed like a shard of glass, sharp enough to sting.
He caught himself almost immediately. Years of navigating the ruthless tides of business had taught him to master his emotions, to reveal only what he chose.
"Come on," he said, his voice even. "It's freezing out here. Let's get you something to eat."
Gabriella fell into step behind him, quickening her pace until she was almost trotting to keep up.
"Will you give me a chance to explain?" she asked.
Charles glanced over his shoulder, a flicker of light in his smile. "Did I say you couldn't? Do you treat your students this way too? Honestly, Gabriella, you're wasted on art. You should have been a lawyer like Philip."
"Why?" she asked.
"Because you're both very good at sentencing someone before they've had a chance to speak."
Philip's reputation in court was legendary—brutal, relentless, armed with airtight evidence that left opposing counsel mute. Charles had watched him work more than once. Whenever Philip took the floor, the other side barely got a word in.
Charles's stride was long; Gabriella had to half-run to keep up. When they reached his car, he opened the door for her, switched on the heater, and only then turned to face her.
"All right," he said. "Let's hear it. Your explanation."
She had rehearsed the words on her way here, but now, sitting beside him, they caught in her throat.
"That woman just now—who was she?"
His laugh was short, incredulous. "That's what you're worried about?"
"Compared to her, you should be more concerned about what we're eating tonight," he said. "I haven't had a proper meal all day, Gabriella."
He wasn't exaggerating. Since a rushed breakfast at the Windsor Villa, he'd been buried in work. For a man without stomach issues, he was remarkably resilient—but hunger was finally catching up to him.
"Then let's eat first," she said quietly.
As he started the engine, his tone went deliberately casual. "She's a blind date. Soon to be Richard's or Philip's blind date."
Gabriella blinked. "You can pass those around?"
"I'm not interested. She isn't either. What she wants is the Windsor name."
Something in her expression shifted. "Then why refuse?"
He shot her a look, irritation flickering. "I don't dine alone with women I don't like. Whether it's flirting or putting on a show, it's still harassment to the other party. I don't need that. And more importantly..." His voice tightened. "I don't want a certain someone—someone who already struggles to trust me—to mistake my intentions."
He'd worked too hard to prove himself innocent in her eyes. Some risks simply weren't worth taking.
Gabriella's fingers tightened around the bouquet in her lap. They drove in silence until the car rolled to a stop outside a restaurant. As Charles reached for the door, she spoke.
"I... I had a child once. Yes, a child."
His hand froze on the door handle. He turned back to her, disbelief written across his face. "What did you just say? A child? Where—how—?"
"Years ago. On your birthday." Her voice was steady, but her eyes were not. "For reasons I can't change, the baby was taken from me. As punishment for failing to protect them, I will never have another. Fair, isn't it?"
Fair? The word felt like a knife.
"Why didn't you tell me? You carried that alone—did you think it was noble?"
His anger was real, but underneath it was something heavier: guilt, and a deep, aching sorrow. All these years, he had known nothing.
Gabriella's lips curved in a pale imitation of a smile. "It was my choice. But I was terrified. When Ms. Windsor came to me, it was just an excuse to leave."
Back then, the whole world seemed to want her gone from Charles's life. Even her own mother had told her she wasn't worthy of him. Her mother—jealous of her own daughter—had been certain that if Gabriella couldn't bear children, the Windsor family would never accept her.
Gabriella's voice dropped to a whisper. "That year, my mother tried to kill herself. She failed. But she used it to make me leave you. I'm sorry. I didn't choose you."
And so, as if cursed, she would never have another child.
Charles sat in stunned silence, the weight of her words pressing down on him. Regret, pain, and a fierce protectiveness surged all at once.
"I never cared much about family," she went on, "but I was always trapped by mine. My mother has severe narcissistic personality disorder. In her world, there's only her."
People like that never believe they're wrong.
"I tried to break away. Many times. But she... she attacked Odette with a knife. I called the police."
The memory still clawed at her chest. She could speak of it lightly, but the truth was suffocating. The moment the blade flashed toward Odette, Gabriella had nearly broken.
All because she refused to marry a man with no education—a petty criminal her mother had chosen. In front of her, her mother had slashed at Odette, as if to prove a point.
"My family is a joke, Charles. And I've failed you. I've failed everyone."
The truth was uglier still. The day her father's mistress pushed her down the stairs and she lost the baby, her mother had smiled. Smiled—and told her it was for the best. Now she wouldn't waste her life chasing a rich man.
When a man shorter than Gabriella came to propose, she had felt nothing but disgust. But her mother had only sneered. "You think you deserve Charles? You're nothing. Trash. Forget about marrying into the Windsor family."
Those words had lodged deep, like splinters that never stopped hurting.
Charles drew in a long breath. He unfastened his seat belt, switched off the cabin light, and leaned in to pull her into his arms.
The scent of cedar surrounded her. His solid frame, the warmth of his body, thawed something in her that had been frozen for years.
"I'm sorry," he murmured against her ear. "I didn't protect you. Or our child. I was arrogant. I thought our love was unshakable. I thought I'd given you enough security. And when you left, my pride kept me from chasing you."
She felt lighter than he remembered, fragile as a feather, as if she could slip away at any moment. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, a wordless promise.
"You've carried enough, Gabriella."
At the sound of his voice—gentle, steady—she realized just how little strength she had left. Her hands clutched at him, and she broke, sobbing into his shoulder until she could no longer breathe.
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