The Godfather's Love (Erika and Charles) novel Chapter 15

Chapter 15 Chapter 15

(Erika’s Perspective)

My eyes rested on the cold, snow-draped Paris sky outside the classroom window.

Damien’s men stepped aside silently to clear the path.

Once we passed, they regrouped with quiet precision, subtly blocking any attempt Charles might make to follow.

The moment we stepped out of the building, the icy air struck me in the face.

Damien’s black Mercedes was already waiting at the entrance, engine silent.

His driver got out and opened the door for us.

Inside the warm cabin, the door closed behind me, shutting out the cold-and the piercing gaze I could still feel at my back.

The car pulled away slowly.

I leaned back into the seat, finally allowing myself to release the tension that had been gripping ‘my body.

Only then did the pain in my ankle surge to the surface, sharp and insistent. I couldn’t suppress the quiet sound that escaped my throat.

“Hold on, we’ll be at the hospital soon,” Damien said calmly.

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He handed me a bottle of water, then pulled an ice pack from the car’s mini-fridge. Wrapping it in a clean handkerchief, he gently placed it over my

swollen ankle.

The coolness dulled the burn, if only for a moment.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

He watched me, his gaze thoughtful, shaded with something more complex.

“He looked… more affected than I expected,” he said.

I gave a faint tug at the corner of my mouth, a smile with no warmth.

“He doesn’t care about losing me. He cares about losing control.”

“Like a child who’s lost his favorite toy-not because he loved it, but because it was his.”

Damien was silent for a moment.

“Maybe,” he said quietly.

But he didn’t pursue it further. Instead, he asked, “Do you want me to make sure he doesn’t bother you again?”

Outside the window, Paris blurred past. Snowflakes hit the glass, then melted instantly.

Chapter 15

“No need,” I answered softly.

“Everything that needed to be said has been said. If he still doesn’t understand, that’s his problemn now”

Still, somewhere deep inside, a lingering sting pulsed from his parting words-“Couldn’t wait to find someone else.”

Ten years.

To think that in his mind, our decade together could be erased with one bitter accusation.

Fine.

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Better this way. It made it easier to let go of whatever was left.

The car headed toward a renowned private hospital in central Paris.

Behind us, at the entrance of the dance conservatory, Charles stood alone in the thickening snow, watching the black Maybach disappear around the

corner.

Snow settled on his shoulders, a thin dusting that clung to his coat.

He pulled out his phone, its screen casting a pale glow on his bloodless face.

He dialed a number.

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