The Godfather's Love (Erika and Charles) novel Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The room was unnaturally tidy-so clean it felt cold.

45 Coins

Charles’s eyes darted around in a panic. On the vanity, several bottles of her usual skincare products were missing. He rushed into the walk-in closet.

One side still held his suits and coats. The other side… was half empty.

Her usual ensembles-tailored suits, elegant gowns-were gone. Only a few casual outfits remained.

Then his gaze froze on the nightstand.

A single white envelope lay there, perfectly placed. His name was written on it in a familiar, elegant, unmistakably firm hand: To Charles.

He lunged forward, snatched it, and tore it open.

Inside were two documents.

The first was a signed and stamped agreement: Nell Family Internal Asset Division and Dissolution of Marriage Contract.

The clauses were crisp and ruthless. According to the ancient family pact, over sixty percent of his legal holdings-multiple properties, overseas accounts, and three of the most profitable smuggling routes-were officially transferred to Erika Churchill.

The second was a small note, handwritten on plain paper.

It said only one thing:

“I took the ticket. Don’t wait.”

The note fluttered from his hand like a feather.

Charles stood frozen, as if someone had driven a hammer into the back of his head. His ears rang. His vision darkened.

He slowly bent down, picked up the note. His fingertips were ice cold.

The ticket… she used it?

What did that mean?

The ticket for Evelyn-the one he personally arranged to send her away?

And then, like a knife slicing through fog, a terrifying, absurd revelation hit him with blinding clarity-

She was never planning to send Evelyn away.

She was the one leaving.

That ticket had always been her exit plan.

And he-like a complete fool-had helped her “solve the problem, thinking he’d saved their marriage.

In truth, he had cleared her path, removed every obstacle for her escape, and returned home smugly to prepare a “celebration.”

Chapter 9

“Erika-!”

A guttural roar erupted from deep in his throat, choked with disbelief, rage, and the humiliation of being utterly deceived.

He slammed his fist into the heavy mahogany nightstand.

The sharp crack echoed through the room as the solid wood split down the middle.

Blood welled on his knuckles, skin torn and swelling, but he didn’t feel the pain.

Only a cold, drowning kind of terror seeped into his bones-like the winter sea in Seattle, dragging him under.

He spun around, yanked out his phone, and pulled up Erika’s contact.

Without thinking, he pressed the voice message button and growled into the microphone:

“Erika! What the hell do you mean?! I already did what you asked-I sent her away! What more do you want?!”

“Is this fun for you?! Get back here right now! Do you hear me?! Tear up this damned agreement!”

Send.

A red exclamation mark popped up instantly.

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