Chapter 238 Widowhood
Janna Rhoads furrowed her brow deeply.
In the past, she would have immediately reassured Charles that such a thing hadn't happened.
But now...
Looking at these photos stacked one after another.
The two of them might not haven been just compatible—they seemed like a match made in heaven, a perfect couple.
She couldn't be sure of the answer any longer.
But...
She turned to Charles, this young child, suddenly finding on the internet that his mother married a stranger.
He must be worried, perhaps even afraid?
Janna racked her brain, then wrapped her arms around Charles, her voice gentle and filled with affection: "Charles, no matter who Mommy marries in the future, you and Chicago will always be the most important to her. So don't worry, okay? Grandma will always be here to support you and your sister!"
Charles gazed at Janna Rhoads.
A child so young can be a genius in intellect, but in matters of the heart, things aren't as clear.
Why he was restless,
Why he was so eager for answers from someone else.
It wasn't until Janna’s comforting words that Charles vaguely understood.
Was he... worried that Mommy didn't want him and his sister anymore?
Charles didn't speak.
He just leaned into Janna’s embrace.
A small, indescribable sense of grievance filled him.
"But..." Janna's tone suddenly shifted.
She let go of Chicago, picked up her phone, tapped and enlarged a photo: "Charles, help Grandma take a look, is this silhouette your godmother?"
Charles cocked his little head and peered closely.
Quickly, both young and old were in agreement.
It was the godmother!
*
Darwin wasn't exactly concealing his whereabouts, so he wasn't hard to find.
Fiona drove to the old church.
In the middle of the parking lot, there stood a huge ancient tree, lush and robust.
Fiona was initially so furious she could explode, but as she got out of the car and the breeze rustled through the old tree, it soothed her nerves.
This wasn't Fiona’s first visit to the church.
Before Mrs. Solomon's mental state had deteriorated, Fiona had accompanied her here once during one of Darwin's busier moments. Standing under the tree, looking up through its branches, she was recognized by an elderly priest.
"You haven't visited us for quite some time," greeted the priest, initiating the conversation with a warm familiarity.
Turning, Fiona recognized the kindly face of the priest she had met that day when the old lady and he had spent a long time chatting over tea.
"It's been a while," said Fiona, nodding respectfully.
"The memorial hall for Mrs. Solomon is over there," the priest pointed towards the south.
"Thank you."
Fiona quickly expressed her gratitude and made to leave. She wasn't here for pleasantries today; she was here for a confrontation with Darwin.
Upon reaching the memorial hall, she found only two children, with no sign of Darwin.
"Mr. Solomon is at the restaurant," one of the kids replied.
Fiona acknowledged without another word. Her gaze fell upon the benevolent portrait of Mrs. Solomon.
She whispered internally, "Mrs. Solomon, please forgive my intrusion, but it's not my fault. It's your grandson, Darwin. He's pushed me too far."
"You're here."
Darwin's voice came from behind her. Fiona spun around, fury blazing in her eyes as if she could spit fire.
Mr. Solomon looked haggard, his once robust frame now gaunt. His misfortune had begun with a head injury from a collision and was followed by a bleeding ulcer, all compounded by the stress of funeral arrangements.
"Darwin!" she spat through clenched teeth.
"In front of grandma..." Darwin started.
"I've already told her! It's you who've crossed the line; you forced my hand!" Fiona marched toward him decisively. "Why did you have to bribe the media and release that kind of news? What do you get out of it?"
"Fiona, who exactly has pushed whom to the brink?" Darwin grabbed her wrist, pulling her close, eyes bloodshot and breathing ragged. "Who made me like this? You don’t want to take responsibility, but that’s if I let you off."
"What have you become, Darwin?" scoffed Fiona, her voice dripping with contempt. "You haven’t changed; you only think of yourself, completely insensitive to others. Tell me, how have I changed you? What responsibility should I bear?"
"I didn’t want any of this." Darwin locked eyes with her, his brows furrowed in distress. "I showed weakness, I begged you, but what did you do? Even if I were willing to stay hidden in the shadows, you still wouldn't accept me."
"Why would I ever need someone who wanted to kill my child?" Fiona shot back, her voice rising in anger. "And what about Dagmar's betrayal, the five years of your cold, silent treatment, and the moment you hung up on me when my grandmother died?"
At that moment, Fiona’s pent-up frustration erupted like a volcano.
"Come on, Darwin, you think you're deserving? Really?" Her words were an attempt to wriggle out of Darwin's grip.
Fiona couldn't fathom it.
With a world of options at his feet, why cling so stubbornly to her? A tranquil life was all she yearned for – a life away from the tumultuous past. But Darwin wouldn't change. Not now, not ever.
Her words sliced through him, stirring his insides like a flurry of knives.
"Just give me one more chance," Darwin pled, eyes brimming with desperation. "Come back to me, Fiona. I swear I won't make those mistakes again."
"You don't deserve it," Fiona repeated sternly.
A silent second passed, then Darwin laughed—a downcast, quivering chuckle.
"That's fine," he said, breaking the brief silence. "If this means I have to be the bad guy, so be it."
"Darwin!" Fiona reproached him sharply.
His hand reached out, cupping her chin, his expression and any hint of beggary vanishing from his eyes.
"If being decent means losing you, then I'd rather be the villain to the core. Nothing means more to me than you do, Fiona," he pressed his thumb against her lips, caressing gently. " you’d better hurry up with that divorce. Because if I find out who the other guy is before it's through – well, you won't be needing that divorce anymore."
Their gazes locked.
A flicker of a smile crossed his face before he added, "I'll make sure you're a widow."
Though, of course, that "husband" was nothing but fiction.
Enraged, Fiona opened her mouth to bite Darwin's thumb.
He didn't flinch, taking the pain as she bit down hard, merely furrowing his brow slightly, without a struggle.
The taste of blood rose salty and metallic in her mouth.
Their standoff lasted only a moment.
With a forceful shove that failed to budge him, Fiona finally released his thumb.
The next second, Darwin's kiss came crashing down.
Fiona was horrified.
Here, in Mrs. Solomon's wake – had Darwin lost his mind entirely?
The taste of blood lingered between them.
She tried frantically to push him away, but he was immovable, relentlessly stealing her breath bit by bit.
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