The Illegitimate Flame: Bride of Ashes-Chapter 50- You are mine

Charles was in the middle of a meeting when his phone suddenly rang.

In the dimly lit conference room, only the flickering light of the projector cast shifting shadows across his sharp features, giving him a cold, unapproachable charm.

The crisp ringtone echoed through the room, catching everyone’s attention. The department heads looked around in surprise.

Charles never brought his phone into meetings—never.

But the call didn’t even last a full ring cycle.

The moment Charles saw the caller ID, his expression shifted ever so slightly—then he answered.

Up on the stage, Giles was presenting the new product proposal, completely unaware that within three seconds of that phone ringing, Charles’s face had darkened. He shoved his chair aside and strode out of the room without a word.

No explanation. No pause.

Just raw, sudden urgency.

Giles had never seen Charles lose composure like that, not even once. But still, he held his position and continued the presentation, as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, Charles was racing through the city.

His hands were clenched around the steering wheel, and Janet’s trembling, desperate voice echoed again and again in his ears—

"Charles—! Please, save me!"

That voice. That helpless cry.

It was like all the blood in his body had reversed course and exploded through his veins. His mind blanked—only one thought remained:

She can’t be hurt. I won’t let her be hurt.

Back at the Elwin estate—

"What are you waiting for? Grab her!"

Derrick roared, voice cold and merciless.

He had heard Janet’s desperate plea through the call—but he didn’t care. His face remained stone, his will absolute.

To Janet, it felt like her heart shattered all over again.

How could a father be this cruel? she thought. Does he even see me as a person anymore?

Two assistants rushed forward and easily pinned her frail body to the bed. Her limbs flailed uselessly, her thin arms unable to resist.

Dr. Fred approached with the syringe in hand, his expression heavy, silent.

The sharp chemical scent of medicine filled the air.

But all Janet could smell—was blood.

Her own blood.

Her baby’s blood.

Was this it?

Was she really going to lose the tiny life growing inside her?

Tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking the strands of hair clinging to her face. Her eyes, wide with terror, locked onto Derrick—eyes full of pain, pleading, and betrayal.

Still, there was not a flicker of hesitation on his frozen face.

"Dad, please..." she sobbed. "Don’t kill this child... He’s your grandson..."

Her voice cracked. She was begging now.

But her struggle was meaningless. Her strength was no match for the men holding her down.

And as Dr. Fred positioned the needle against her arm, her screams pierced the air—

yet nothing could stop what was coming.

"What are you doing?! Stop this at once!"

A thunderous roar shattered the tense silence.

The door burst open as Philip pushed himself into the room in his wheelchair, his face contorted in fury—a rare sight from the usually calm and quiet second son of the Elwin family.

Dr. Fred’s hand trembled mid-air, syringe frozen in place. Even Derrick flinched at the voice, turning sharply—his expression flashing with something dangerously close to guilt.

"Philip? What are you doing here?" Derrick coughed awkwardly, trying to recover his composure. "Robert, take Young Master Philip out of here!"

Now? Of all times, Philip had to barge in now?

Philip ignored him completely, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room—landing on the two assistants holding Janet down.

"Let her go."

Startled by the steel in his voice, the men instinctively loosened their grip.

Janet immediately scrambled off the bed, retreating to the far corner like a terrified bird.

Never in her time at the Elwin estate had she seen Philip raise his voice—let alone go head-to-head with his own father.

And now, he was doing it for her.

She would never forget this moment.

"I’ve already made my decision," Derrick said coldly. "This matter doesn’t concern you. You two—carry on!"

He extended his hand with an air of finality, the temperature in the room seeming to plummet.

Janet shrank further into the corner. Everyone here wanted her child dead.

Everyone—except Philip.

But where was Charles?

"I dare you to try," Philip snapped. "Have you no heart? I never wanted to marry her in the first place—you forced her into my life! I’m useless now. I can’t give her happiness. And now she’s pregnant with Charles’s child—your grandson—and you want to kill him?! What kind of monster are you?"

Philip’s voice cracked with grief and rage.

He hated what he’d become—weak, paralyzed, a burden. Charles had taken on everything for his sake. Charles had always protected him. And now... this?

"You think I’m doing this for myself?" Derrick snapped, his voice rising again. "I did all of this for you! She’s your wife. If she’s having a baby, it damn well better be yours!"

"I’m a cripple!" Philip shouted. "I can’t give her anything!"

"Then we’ll use IVF! I don’t care how it happens, but that woman is going to give you a child!" Derrick’s fury showed no sign of subsiding. His mind was made up—no one, not even his own son, could stop him.

"Over my dead body," Philip growled.

His gaze burned with the same fire as Derrick’s—like father, like son.

Janet’s eyes widened, her hands flying to her mouth as tears spilled silently.

Her back was pressed to the cold wall, her thin nightgown damp from sweat and fear.

But at that moment, when Philip stood tall for her despite his broken body—

her heart cracked open with emotion.

"Robert! Get Philip out of here!" Derrick bellowed, eyes bulging with rage.

The aged but loyal Robert hesitated—but only for a second.

With a bowed head, he grabbed the wheelchair and began pushing Philip out.

Things had reached an impasse. Only one man could change the course now—

Lord Charles.

Janet saw the panic in Robert’s eyes—knew what was coming—and made her move.

She snatched a table lamp from the nightstand and hurled it at the approaching doctor.

The lamp crashed against his arm with a loud crack. In the next instant, she bolted for the door, barefoot, breath ragged with terror.

"You useless fools! Get her back, now!" Derrick roared, his voice thunderous with fury.

The two assistants immediately gave chase, scrambling after Janet without hesitation.

She sprinted down the hallway, her heart pounding wildly. As she turned the corner near the stairs, she crashed headfirst into a figure rushing up from outside. The familiar scent of Dior cologne wrapped around her like a lifeline.

Janet didn’t need to look. She knew who it was.

Without thinking, she flung herself into Charles’s arms, burying her tear-streaked face against his chest. Her small hands clutched at his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

Her voice was hoarse from crying, choked with emotion.

"Charles..."

That single word—so soft, so broken—hit Charles like a blade to the heart.

He immediately pulled her closer, wrapping his arms tightly around her trembling body.

When he looked up and saw the two assistants approaching, his eyes turned dark—deadly, dangerous.

The kind of look that promised pain.

Behind them, Derrick stormed out and caught sight of Charles. His face twisted with anger and disbelief.

"Useless bastard!" he spat, seething.

But Charles already understood everything.

The room upstairs, the restrained Janet, the syringe in the doctor’s hand—

it all painted a picture he didn’t need words to comprehend.

Feeling the girl in his arms trembling, he bent down and whispered in her ear with quiet certainty,

"Don’t be afraid. I’m here now."

His voice was low, but it carried a power that shook her to her core.

"You’re doing this to spite me, aren’t you?" Derrick growled. "I warned you. That woman is off-limits. You think Philip would forgive you for this? You think you’re doing right by him?"

His voice lacked the thunder it once had. In front of Charles, his dominance faltered—just a little.

Was it Charles he had underestimated all along? Or Janet?

Charles met his gaze head-on, his tone calm but cold as steel.

"Philip doesn’t mind. Why should you? Janet was mine from the very beginning."

He wasn’t just saying it to Derrick.

He was saying it to her.

To tell her what he never said before.

You are mine.