The Godfather's Love (Erika and Charles) novel Chapter 10

Chapter 10

(Erika’s Perspective)

There was a kind of romance in late autumn Paris that Seattle could never have-something bone-deep, wistful, and cold.

Golden plane tree leaves blanketed the cobblestone paths of the Left Bank.

The air carried the scent of coffee and roasted chestnuts, mingled with a faint trace of dampness from the Seine.

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I pulled my cream-colored Max Mara cashmere coat tighter around me, standing at the entrance of the Paris National Conservatory of Dance. In my

hand, I held my freshly processed enrollment papers.

My fingertips were chilled, but my heart beat fast-fast with a joy I hadn’t felt in years.

Ten years late, but the dream had finally arrived.

“Erika Churchill?”

A hesitant female voice, tinged with an obvious American accent, spoke in English beside me.

I turned my head.

Evelyn.

She stood just a few steps away, dragging a small suitcase behind her.

A thin Chanel tweed jacket clung to her frame; her cheeks were red from the cold, her eyes even redder. She looked disheveled-like someone who

hadn’t had a good week.

When she saw me turn around, her face twisted into a complicated mix of surprise, resentment, and something close to shame.

“It really is you…”

She bit her lip, her eyes sharp like poisoned needles.

“What are you doing here?”

I looked away, calmly tucking the documents into my handbag. My voice was flat, like discussing the weather.

“School. Isn’t it obvious?”

“School?”

Evelyn sounded like she’d just heard the most ridiculous thing in the world. Her voice rose, drawing curious glances from a few nearby students.

“You? You came to Paris to study dance? Does Charles know? Did he-”

“Whether he knows or not,” I cut her off, finally meeting her eyes, “what does that have to do with you?”

I gave her a once-over.

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Her makeup was uneven. Her hair, frizzy. Clearly, things hadn’t been going well for her.

“And you, Evelyn. Charles personally ‘put’ you on that plane. Destination: Paris.”

“What’s wrong? Didn’t follow the godfather’s ‘orders’ to enjoy life in Europe?”

“You!”

Her face flushed even redder. She stepped forward, nearly jabbing her finger in my face.

“It was you, wasn’t it?! That ticket wasn’t an assignment-it was exile! You just wanted me gone!”

“You were scared! Scared Charles would really fall in love with me! Scared he’d leave you!”

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Her words were shrill now, drawing more stares.

I sighed lightly-not for her, but for the tedious drama of it all.

“Evelyn,” I tilted my head slightly, stepping away from the heat of her breath,

“Do you really not understand, or are you just lying to yourself?”

“Understand what? That you’re a venomous woman who couldn’t hold onto her man, so you resorted to tricks to chain him down-and kick out the

woman he truly loves?”

The phrase “the woman he truly loves” coming from her lips, in that hysterical tone, was laughable.

“To truly love someone,” I said evenly, even kindly, “is not about tears. Not about scars on your wrists. Not about taking off your clothes.”

“It’s about standing beside him when he has nothing.

Staying when death is near.

Betting your entire fortune and family name on a future no one else believed in.”

I looked at her face-young, but already carved with envy and want.

“Tell me, Evelyn, which of those things have you done for Charles? Your so-called ‘love’ was nothing more than drool over his power and wealth-after he’d already made it.”

“Lies!”

She trembled all over, tears finally falling. Not faked-real. I had struck a nerve.

“Charles loves me! He cares about me! He taught me things himself, gave me gifts, he-”

“When he sent you away… was there even a flicker of hesitation?”

She stopped crying. Her face went pale.

“Did he ever yell at me for your sake?

Has he ever declared your status in front of the family?

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Or are you still convinced I used some underhanded trick to ‘force’ him to send you away?”

I took a step forward. My gaze turned to ice.

“Or maybe, just maybe… it was him who, in the end, chose to protect his image as godfather-and that last shred of guilt he still owed me.”

My words hit like ice picks, smashing through her final illusions.

She stumbled back a step, lips trembling, but she couldn’t speak.

“Little girl,”

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