Chapter 554: Charles Drops the Charade
Sarah, arrogant, attempted to leave the room. Charles stopped her at the door. "Who said you could go?"
"Get off me!"
"Stay here! Don't play tricks!"
"Charles!"
"I said you can't go!"
"Get off me, you bastard!" Sarah screamed.
Charles ignored her. Enraged, Sarah clawed at his face, pushing him away. Initially, Charles restrained her, but his patience snapped. He slapped her hard across the face.
"You beat me!" Sarah stared at him, incredulous.
Her usual combative spirit, effective against Martina, failed against Charles's violence. The slap momentarily stunned her. Charles, enraged, coldly surveyed her arrogant face, remembering past injustices inflicted by Hannah, Sarah, and the Collins family. He'd reached his breaking point.
"Yeah. So what? Who the hell do you think you are?" he snarled, slapping her again.
Sarah fell to the floor, experiencing a level of suffering she'd never known. She tried to fight back, but Charles kicked her hard in the stomach.
"Ah!" Sarah cried out in pain.
The recent miscarriage had weakened her, and Charles's brutal attack intensified her suffering. As he punched and kicked her, she curled into a fetal position.
"Sarah, do you think I could ever love you? You think I need you? I just used you. You're as irritating as Hannah. No, you're worse. At least Hannah is better-looking. You're a dumb-ass!"
"Charles! Ah! Stop!" Sarah screamed.
She was consumed by remorse for falling for his deception. She should have seen through his lies sooner. This man, as Hannah had said, craved only power.
"Now I'm dropping the act," Charles said, kicking her again, his usual gentleness replaced by monstrous cruelty. "I only pursued you because you're the Collins family's darling daughter. Why else would I give up Hannah to marry you? I thought of Hannah when I slept with you! I loved Hannah. You were a substitute. Now you know the truth, but what can you do? Think you can still win once you're in my hands?"
"My father will kill you!" Sarah threatened.
Charles sneered, more terrifying than before. "You think you'll see your father again?"
"What do you mean?" Sarah panicked.
"Let me tell you, so you'll die in peace. The miscarriage—whether planned or accidental—is irrelevant. I have to keep it from your father. He'd blame me, maybe even kill me. I have no choice but to eliminate Oscar first."
Charles had nothing left to hide.
"God! You are a monster!"
"Swear as you like," Charles said sharply. "I could let you live if you'd kept quiet. Unfortunately, you must die now!"
"What are you going to do?"
"What do you think? I'm going to kill you!" He seized her throat. "I'll win your father's trust after I get rid of Oscar, then you'll die in an accident. He'll never know how I tortured you. I can even act heartbroken to gain his sympathy."
Sarah's terror grew with each word. Charles pushed her away. "That's the price you pay for defying me!"
"Charles!" Sarah screamed.
His patience exhausted, Charles was on the verge of killing her. He tidied his clothes. "Let's go," he told Martina.
Martina, unmoved and almost complacent, had witnessed everything. She spat on Sarah. "Idiot!" she cursed, leaving with Charles.
Sarah, gnashing her teeth, watched them go. She hated them with a burning fury. She struggled to her feet, the physical abuse unprecedented in her life. Reaching the door, she found it locked. She pounded on it, hearing a chilling voice from outside: "Shut up, or things will get worse!"
Sarah shrieked in rage. She vowed revenge. Charles and his sister would pay.
That night, Hannah sat on her balcony, admiring the moon. Theodore had called; Sarah had miscarried. Charles had clearly suppressed the news to maintain Rowan's trust.
Hannah knew Sarah wouldn't let this go. Sarah suspected Hannah's involvement, remembering the restaurant hint. Since Sarah hadn't informed Rowan, and Rowan hadn't acted, Hannah deduced Charles had prevented her. This would inevitably cause a rift, and Charles, being the brutal man he was, would silence Sarah.
Hannah smiled coldly. Charles's doom was imminent.