The Day Our Promise Breaks

Eighteen hours. That was how long the surgery lasted.

The surgeons removed the charred, necrotic tissue from Charles's thigh, managing, for now, to save his left leg.

But from the very top of his thigh, much of the muscle had to be excised to stave off infection.

What had once been a powerful, sculpted leg was now pitted and disfigured, stripped of its former strength.

This was the conservative treatment plan Charles had chosen himself.

He knew the odds of saving his leg this way were vanishingly slim.

He knew, too, that for the next months he would endure a pain few could even imagine.

Months of agony, only to likely lose the leg in the end. Amputation would probably be inevitable.

But still, Charles chose to try.

He wasn't afraid of pain. What terrified him was being left incomplete-becoming someone unworthy of saying he loved Evelyn, unworthy of her.

One month later.

Hospital room.

The doctor came in to clean Charles's wound.

Layer by layer, the gauze was peeled away, exposing the raw, bloody flesh of his thigh.

So much muscle had been lost, the wound needed daily cleansing and

sterilization to prevent infection and give what little hope there was for muscle regrowth.

Every cleaning was a kind of torture.

Just as he had every day for the last month, Charles's hospital gown was drenched in cold sweat.

The whole time, he bit down on his lip, enduring in silence.

His recovery was slow-the muscle loss was simply too great.

But at least, there was no infection.

After the doctor left, Charles, expressionless, let the orderly help him clean up and change out of his soaked gown.

Ever since the fire, Mr. Jenkins-Charles-had seen Ms. Evelyn's hair streaked with gray. After Ms. Josephine's words to him, the light in Charles's eyes had gone out.

For over a month now, he'd seemed hollow, as if all the life had been drained from him.

"Mr. Jenkins, I can go to Ms. Evelyn. I'll tell her it was you who saved her and Ms. Josephine..." Aiden offered quietly.

He believed, once, Evelyn had loved Charles deeply.

If she knew Charles had risked his life for her and Josephine-exactly the kind of

devotion she'd always hoped for-maybe her heart would soften.

Maybe she'd come, even if only to sit by Charles's side for a while.

Aiden knew Mr. Jenkins wanted to see Evelyn.

With her here, perhaps Charles wouldn't seem so lifeless every day.

But Charles shot Aiden a cold, forbidding look.

Absolutely not.

No one was to contact Evelyn.

"Saving her and Ms. Josephine was simply what I ought to do," he said, voice steely.

He would never use the debt of a life saved to trap Evelyn into doing something she didn't want.

"I'll say this one last time, Aiden. Don't go to Eve."

"Yes, Mr. Jenkins."

Aiden dared not defy Charles's order.

“Mr. Jenkins, these are the

for today," Aiden

es for today," Aiden saighet

the conversation as he over a thick stack

papers.

All of them required Charles's attention.

Reclining in his hospital bed, Charles worked through the files Aiden brought.

He even took a video conference call that lasted over an hour.

When it was done, Aiden returned to the office.

Charles leaned back against the pillows and pulled his tablet closer.

He had one daily ritual now.

Watching Evelyn.

A month ago, at Zayden's birthday gala, he'd worn a piece from Evelyn's new jewelry line.

Zayden was a trendsetter for the

city's elite-thanks to him, Evelyn's

designs had become the talkset

high

society overnight.

Her distinctive style had quickly enchanted socialites across the city.

In just weeks, she was the hottest designer around.

Evelyn had no interest in fame-she just wanted to create. She never showed her face, founding her own studio and naming it after her daughter, Charlie. fo noveldrama

Charles followed every update from her official studio account.

Now, it was the only way he could keep up with her life.

As he scrolled through her posts, a breaking news headline popped up.

Brooks Robinson, head of the Robinson family, was about to announce his engagement.

Evelyn and Brooks were getting engaged.

The words stabbed through Charles's heart. His hand trembled and the tablet

slipped, landing hard on his left thigh.

The pain was searing-so sharp it stole the breath from his lungs.

He gripped the sheets, eyes fixed on those words: "about to be engaged."

His lips quivered. His eyes burned red.