Chapter 268
Charles rose slowly from the bed, every movement deliberate, as if standing too fast might shatter what little restraint he had left. The lantern’s warm glow caught in his silver hair, throwing long, jagged shadows across his sharp features—shadows that made him look older, harder, and far more dangerous than moments ago. His hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles bleaching white, nails biting into flesh.
“Pathetic?” he repeated quietly, the word heavy with disbelief. Then his voice rose, cracking with something raw and feral. “You call me pathetic p>
He took a step forward, eyes burning. “I watched my son today—my brilliant, unbreakable son—stand at the center of that room and command the attention of the most powerful people on the planet.” His chest hitched. “And where was I p>
Another step. Closer.
“Banished to the edges. Reduced to a spectator. Treated like an irrelevant outsider p>
His jaw tightened, fury sharpening his words. “Because of you! You fed me poison, told me he was finished. That he was weak. That cutting him loose was the smart, strategic move.” A bitter laugh slipped out, humorless and sharp. “And I listened. God help me—I listened p>
Mirabel laughed bitterly, a sharp, mirthless sound that echoed off the tent walls. “He was finished! Or should have been finished by now! Forget everything else, he’s only a worthless cripple pretending to be a king. But you—you’re even worse, Charles. A spineless man who can’t even control his own family. You let that little nobody Eliana waltz in and turn everything upside down. And now you’re crying? Over him? You’re a joke. A blind and crippled man like your useless son is better than you p>
The words hung in the air like poison, and Charles’s vision blurred with red-hot anger. Eliana?! The same Eliana that was her daughter?! A daughter she hid from him, just like her other children. His fist tightened, the urge to strike her surging through him like lightning. He could feel the heat in his veins, the temptation to lash out physically for the first time in their marriage. But he held back, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. She was a woman. His wife. And no matter how deep she’d sunk, he would not follow her there.
Slowly, deliberately, he drew in a breath—deep, shaking—and when he spoke again, his voice was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that meant something had finally snapped into place.
“That’s enough, Mirabel. I’ve endured your venom for years,” he continued quietly. “Your manipulation. Your greed. Your lies.” His eyes met hers, cold and unwavering. “And look at what it’s destroyed p>
He paused for a second. Final. Unmistakable.
“I want a divorce p>
The word landed between them like a boulder.
Mirabel froze mid-stride, her tirade cutting off as if someone had yanked the words from her throat. Her elegant frame went rigid, her icy eyes widening in shock. The color drained from her smooth brown skin, leaving her looking ghostly in the lantern’s glow. “What… what did you just say?” she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling for the first time.
Charles met her gaze steadily, his own eyes hard with resolve. “You heard me. Divorce. I’m done. Done with your games, your control. You’ve cost me my son, my pride—everything that mattered. I won’t let you take what’s left p>
She staggered back a step, shock finally cracking her composure. Her hand flew to her pearls, clutching them like a lifeline, as if polished stones and silk threads could keep her upright.
“You can’t be serious, Charles,” she said, her voice tight, disbelieving. “After all these years?” Her laugh came out brittle. “I made you who you are. I dragged you out of that small, mediocre existence—with Eleanor, with that overbearing father of yours—and I built a life worth living with you p>
Charles shook his head slowly. A tired, almost mournful laugh slipped past his lips.
“No, Mirabel,” he said quietly. “You didn’t build anything. You stacked lies and called them a foundation p>
He stepped back, as though distance itself was necessary to keep the truth sharp. “You abandoned your own daughters for wealth. Eliana—remember her? The child you left with Frank because he couldn’t give you pearls or silk.” His voice tightened. “And Clara. The girl my Eleanor rescued from an orphanage after her mother disappeared without a second glance p>
Mirabel’s silence was loud.
“And now,” Charles continued, his words deliberate, cutting cleanly, “you’ve done the same to me. Twisted me until I turned against my own flesh and blood.” His eyes darkened. “My father went to his grave hating me. Rafael hates me now p>
He paused. The seconds feeling heavy. Unforgiving.
“And it isn’t fate. It isn’t coincidence,” he finished softly. “It’s us. But mostly… it’s you p>
The truth settled between them—cold, final, and impossible to ignore.
Mirabel’s composure shattered completely now, tears—real or feigned, Charles couldn’t tell—welling in her eyes. “But… but we can fix this. Talk to him. Beg if you have to. We’ll make him see p>
“Beg?” Charles interrupted, his voice rising. “You think begging will erase the years of abandonment? The way I cut him from the will when he was at his lowest? No, Mirabel. That’s on me. But you? You’re the poison that started it all. And I’m cutting you out p>
She sank onto a nearby chair, her tall frame folding in on itself, looking smaller than Charles had ever seen her. “Charles, please,” she pleaded, her voice cracking. “Think about what you’re saying. The scandal—the division of assets. You’ll ruin us both p>
He turned away, staring at the tent wall as if he could see through it to the mountains beyond. “Ruin? I’ve already been ruined. Watching Rafael today… God, it broke me. Everyone fawning over him, wanting his time, his insights. And I couldn’t even approach. He wouldn’t look at me, Mirabel. My own son. Because I chose you over him p>
The silence stretched between them, heavy and charged. Mirabel’s sobs filled the space, soft at first, then building into wrenching cries. “I… I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” she whispered. “I thought we were protecting the family. The legacy p>
Charles whirled back, his eyes flashing. “Protecting? You were protecting your status! Your power! You saw Rafael as a threat after the accident—weak, vulnerable. Easy to push aside. But he’s stronger than both of us. He rebuilt everything without our help. And now? Now he’s the one everyone wants. Not you, not me p>
She stood abruptly, her fury reigniting through the tears. “Fine! Divorce me then. But you’ll regret it, Charles. I’ll take everything— the houses, the companies. You’ll be left with nothing, just like that pathetic Frank I left behind p>
He stepped closer, his voice a low growl. “Try it. But remember, I know your secrets too. How you climbed into this life, abandoning your child. The manipulations, the affairs. The people you’ve killed. Push me, and I’ll bury you in court p>
Mirabel recoiled as if slapped, her hand trembling as she wiped her face. “You wouldn’t dare p>
“Oh, I would,” he replied coldly. “For Rafael. For the chance to make things right with him. Even if it’s too late p>
She laughed hysterically, the sound brittle and broken. “Make things right? He despises you! And her—Eliana, my own daughter— she’s poisoned him against us. That girl that claims to be naive, with her hopeful smiles and quiet strength. Is more vicious than a viper, she’s the reason—
“Leave her out of this!” Charles thundered, his face contorted with protective rage. “Eliana’s better than you ever were. Kind, loyal. She didn’t abandon anyone for money p>
The argument spiraled, voices rising and falling like a stormy sea. Mirabel hurled accusations—”You’re weak, always have been!”—and Charles countered with truths—”You’ve been the monster all along!” Emotions poured out: regret, anger, betrayal, the raw underbelly of a marriage built on sand.
Finally, exhausted, Charles sank back onto the bed, his head in his hands again. “Just go, Mirabel. Pack your things. We’re done p>
She stood there, frozen once more, the weight of his words crashing down. The tent felt smaller, the air thicker, as the realization settled: her empire was crumbling, brick by brick.