The Illegitimate Flame: Bride of Ashes-Chapter 42- Fiancée?

At Janet’s request, Charles stopped the car a short distance away from Black Rock Co. His obsidian eyes flickered with a hint of displeasure before his face returned to its usual indifference. Without a word, he let her out and drove off.

"Janet!"

She was walking quickly, head lowered, when a sharp, high-pitched voice called her name from behind. Janet turned around and saw Madeline, a former colleague from the design department, hurrying over.

As Madeline’s gaze followed the departing tail of Charles’s limited-edition sports car, a suspicious glint appeared in her eyes. A bad feeling rose in Janet’s chest.

"Hey, was that... the boss’s car you just got out of?" Madeline narrowed her eyes. Everyone in the company knew Charles’s car—even if they’d never seen him in person, the car alone was a symbol of his status and power.

"You must’ve seen wrong. That wasn’t me," Janet replied casually, trying to brush it off. Rumors about her and Charles were already floating around the office. The last thing she needed was more drama—especially if Derrick heard about it. She wouldn’t be able to explain her way out.

Madeline didn’t look fully convinced, but she let Janet pull her along. The girl was about the same age as Janet, and not the scheming type. Hopefully she wouldn’t read too much into it.

After they parted ways, Janet headed straight to the 88th floor.

Charles came up a few minutes later. She turned her gaze away as he passed by with his tall, commanding presence, heading directly into the CEO’s office.

"The photographer, makeup artist, and the set are all ready—but Zoey’s refusing to start. She says she won’t shoot unless you show up in person," Novia reported urgently.

The ad shoot had already been delayed once. Everything had been customized for Ivanka, but after the last-minute replacement, the team had gone through the trouble of resetting everything—only for it all to fall apart again.

Charles’s patience snapped. He slapped the file in front of him with a loud thud.

That woman Zoey was doing this on purpose.

"Then forget it. If she wants to throw a tantrum, let her. She doesn’t have the right to play games in front of me." He yanked off his tie, his voice cold. He had no tolerance for clingy women—especially one like Zoey, who was already on his blacklist. He didn’t care if it cost them money.

Novia wasn’t surprised. She knew Charles’s temper—especially when it came to women. No one could control him.

"Understood," she nodded, ready to leave, when Charles suddenly stopped her.

"Wait. Where’s August? Isn’t he in charge of this shoot?"

"He’s there," Novia said. "But Zoey insisted on seeing you."

She’d tried a few times to use different excuses to get close to Charles, only to be rejected again and again. As Novia explained this, she noticed a shadow darken over Charles’s face.

He should’ve known. August and that woman were in cahoots. And now, at such a critical moment, they dared to play tricks on him?

"Forget it. I’ll handle this myself." With that, Charles grabbed his coat from the back of the chair and strode out of the office.

Just as Charles reached the elevator, he suddenly turned around.

Janet, who had been watching his tall figure walk away, felt a chill in her chest. Before she could react, Charles grabbed her wrist without warning.

"You’re coming with me."

"Where to?" Janet asked in surprise, not even having time to grab her bag before Charles dragged her out of the office. He pressed the elevator button with practiced ease and strode in.

"I’m not selling you, if that’s what you’re worried about." His voice was nonchalant, but the smirk on his lips held an unreadable meaning.

That smile made her uneasy.

Charles drove to a secluded filming studio on the outskirts of the city. Janet finally understood—this was the ad shoot Amos had mentioned. The one August was supposedly in charge of. But why had Charles shown up himself? And why bring her?

"Get out," Charles ordered, stopping the car by the roadside.

As they exited, two bodyguards emerged from inside the lot. Their presence was low-key yet commanding—fitting, Janet thought, for a top-tier supermodel like Zoey.

"Boss, Zoey’s still in the dressing room. The director’s already growing impatient," an assistant informed Charles, his eyes lighting up as if salvation had arrived.

Charles didn’t say a word, walking ahead with long strides. Janet followed, taking in the scenic beauty around them—lush green hills, clear skies, and a vast forest that framed the studio like a painting.

"Janet, keep up."

At some point, Charles had dropped the formality. He used to call her "Miss Jane" or simply bark orders with no name at all. Now it was Janet—like they were... familiar.

She snapped out of her thoughts to realize he was already far ahead.

But she still didn’t know why he’d brought her here.

Inside the dressing room, only Zoey remained.

She turned as Charles entered, her eyes lighting up with delight as she saw his reflection in the mirror. Then, with a haughty air, she spun around to face him directly.

"Well, well... the elusive CEO himself. It really is hard to see you in person."

"Get to the point." Charles’s eyes swept across her face with a cool indifference. If not for hearing her name again recently, he might’ve forgotten what she looked like altogether.

"So heartless..." Zoey said with a mockingly soft voice as she walked closer, her heels clicking against the floor. "Three years ago, I was this close to becoming your wife."

Janet had just been about to step out when those words froze her in place.

Fiancée?

Zoey... used to be Charles’s fiancée?

Charles let out a cold laugh.

"You said it yourself—close. But I don’t deal in ’maybes.’ It either is, or it isn’t."

He never regretted calling off the engagement. If it hadn’t been for her powerful family background, Derrick would never have forced him into it in the first place.

But they wanted to play dirty?

Two could play that game.

With Shaun—the notorious playboy—on his side, even the most manipulative women could be handled.

Zoey let out a slow, drawn-out "Oh?" Instead of getting angry, she smiled—but her next words made Charles narrow his eyes.

"Well, you’re single. I’m not married either. If the media happens to bring up our... past, I wonder what kind of headlines that would make?"

There was a flicker of sly cunning in her eyes—a silent threat.

She was warning him. If she went public with their former engagement, it could cause a media storm. A scandal. A frenzy.

Charles was a private man, but that didn’t mean he was unknown. His name carried weight, whether he liked it or not.

"Is that so?" His voice was cold as ice.

His sharp gaze locked on her face, once again painted with that sickeningly sweet expression full of delusional hope. The fire in his eyes darkened.

"If I remember correctly," he said slowly, "wasn’t the Count of Loren’s precious daughter caught in a scandal three years ago... with a married man?"

Zoey’s smile stiffened.

"If that little rumor were to resurface, I imagine it’d be far juicier than anything between us. Don’t you agree?"

His voice was low and dangerous, every syllable laced with menace. The bloodlust in his eyes sent a clear warning: If you want to play dirty, be ready to bleed.

He wasn’t a man to be trifled with. And Zoey should’ve known better.

Behind her noble title and prestigious family name, she couldn’t afford a single stain on her reputation. That was her weakness—and Charles knew it all too well.

Every move, every step, had been planned by him from the start.

And now? Checkmate.