CHAPTER 160: CHAPTER 160- DON’T CRY FOR ME

I held her in my arms, tightly—like she might vanish if I let go.

Janet’s body was so light, so fragile. Yet even through the thick fabric of our clothes, her warmth seeped into me, burning straight through my ribs into my chest.

She made me feel alive.

And that was the most terrifying thing.

"Did the doctors say something?"

Her soft voice broke the stillness like a whisper across glass.

I stiffened—just for a moment.

But even the smallest hesitation didn’t escape her.

She noticed.

Of course she did.

Janet was always too perceptive for her own good.

"Janet," I murmured, holding her tighter, "you have to be strong... like our daughter."

Our daughter.

The words tasted bittersweet on my tongue.

Her body tensed for a second, then slowly relaxed. Her pale, delicate face lit up like sunrise spilling over frost.

"Daughter?" she repeated softly.

Her hand brushed across her belly—over five months now—and a smile curved her lips.

"Charles... is it really a girl?"

I nodded.

She looked so happy.

So full of quiet joy, like she was ready to give me one last gift—a little girl who looked just like her.

"Yes," I said. "A girl. And she’s going to be just as beautiful as you."

I forced the words out with a smile.

But deep down, it was tearing me apart.

How could I love this child?

How could I smile?

She wasn’t supposed to be here.

And every moment Janet suffered—every convulsion, every seizure, every cry for help—was because of this child.

This innocent, fragile, goddamned child.

I wanted to love her.

I truly did.

But all I could feel was helplessness and guilt.

"Promise me," Janet said suddenly, her voice so soft I had to lean in to hear.

"Promise me you’ll love her, Charles. Love her more than anything."

The last rays of the sunset cast her face in gold. Her skin shimmered like the petals of a celestial bloom, her hair catching the light as it fell across her cheek.

She looked too perfect—too ethereal—like she belonged to another world.

A world I had no right to touch.

And I knew... I was losing her.

"No," I choked.

"If you ever leave me... I won’t love that child. I’ll only hate her."

Her expression froze.

I buried my face in the curve of her neck. My forehead pressed against her skin, and I felt the first drop fall—hot and silent.

She noticed.

Of course she did.

Because my tears... were for her.

She didn’t speak.

She just gently stroked the back of my head, her fingers trembling.

Why did she always know how to hurt me the most—and still, she never meant to?

"Don’t say that," she whispered. "Charles... even if I’m not here, you have to take care of her. Love her for both of us. Don’t... don’t let me die with regret."

She didn’t finish.

I silenced her with my palm, covering her lips before she could speak the word I couldn’t bear to hear.

"No."

"That day will never come. You hear me? Never."

"If you’re afraid I won’t love her, then stay. Stay and watch me. Stay and scold me if I forget.

Janet, I need you."

I was trembling.

My hands—those hands that had never hesitated to sign billion-dollar deals or crush anyone who dared oppose me—were shaking as they cupped her fragile neck.

I pressed my forehead to hers.

And in that fragile space between us, I whispered,

"I can’t live without you."

She moved my hands to her chest—right over her heart.

Her smile was small.

Peaceful.

Resolute.

"Don’t cry for me, Charles," she said. "It breaks my heart."

Right now, she was still lucid.

She knew who I was.

She knew who she was.

But when she woke tomorrow... would she still remember?

Would she still remember that she once loved me more than life itself?

Janet didn’t know how she had closed her eyes. She only remembered making that desperate request, hearing his voice softly repeating her name over and over—"Janet, don’t leave me."

In that moment, she truly wanted to open her eyes, to hold his hand forever and never let go.

Through the haze of pain and confusion, distant voices called her name intermittently. After a long struggle, Janet’s heavy eyelids finally fluttered open.

"Mommy, Aunt Janet is sleepier than me!"

Little Callum’s cheerful voice rang from the bedside, followed by a puzzled glance at Angela, whose eyes were red-rimmed from worry.

"Janet’s a Sleeping Beauty," Angela whispered with a smile, "only a kiss from Prince Callum will wake her up. But Charles mustn’t see, okay?"

Angela looked at Janet’s increasingly gaunt face with aching sympathy. At first, it was her insistence that brought Shaun and her to Janet’s side—only then did they realize how serious Janet’s illness had become.

Callum, half doubting but ever the gentleman, leaned in and gave Janet’s cheek a gentle peck.

Slowly, Janet’s clear, bright eyes opened.

"Mommy, Janet really woke up!" Callum’s delighted laughter filled the room as he crawled onto the bed, hugging her with innocent joy.

"Callum?" Hearing that familiar child’s voice, Janet’s spirits lifted somewhat.

"Callum, come down! Don’t squish Aunt Janet!" Angela gently pulled him aside, aware of Janet’s pregnancy and careful not to let him disturb her.

"Angela?" Janet recognized the voice and pushed herself upright. The prickling pain on the back of her hand reminded her of the IV drip. She’d slept through the night again. Last night, curled in Charles’s arms in the garden, she’d fallen asleep once more.

Because her body was too weak, Janet needed periodic nutritional infusions. Only this could sustain the fragile life growing inside her.

"It’s me, Janet," Angela said softly, sitting on the bed beside Callum. "Charles and Shaun are outside. Want me to call him in?" She grasped Janet’s cold hand as the other reached out for hers.

"No need. I didn’t expect you all to come," Janet smiled faintly. Angela and Callum’s presence surprised her. Since coming home, she had avoided seeing others—August, Peggy—all to spare them worry.

"Janet, you’ll get better. You have to hold on—for Charles, for the baby. You can do this!" Angela forced a smile as she met Janet’s beautiful but hollow gaze.

She admired Janet’s courage deeply. If it were her, Angela wasn’t sure she could bear such pain. Seeing Charles’s unwavering devotion to Janet moved her profoundly—their love was no less fierce than hers and Shaun’s; a love that transcended life and death, unyielding and true.

Janet smiled and pressed a hand to her swollen belly, the sorrow and resignation lifted, replaced by a fragile hope.

"Mommy, does Janet have a little sister in her tummy too?"

Callum didn’t understand the adults’ talk but clearly remembered Angela’s warning not to squish his sister. He poked Janet’s belly gently.

The baby inside seemed to sense the touch and responded with a fluttering kick.