Chapter Six: Shadows of the Past

After their tense encounter with Janet, Aurora, and Olivia, Charlotte and James finished their meal in silence. James didn't press her, but she could feel the weight of his gaze, watching her closely, waiting.

By the time they left the restaurant and got into the car, the tension in the air was thick. James slid into the driver's seat, started the engine, and pulled onto the road. The city lights flickered past them, but inside the car, it was just the two of them—no cameras, no expectations, just raw honesty waiting to unfold.

James drove for a few minutes before finally breaking the silence. "You didn't seem surprised to see them."

Charlotte stared out the window, her fingers tracing patterns on her dress. "I wasn't."

He glanced at her. "You expected to run into them?"

"No." She sighed. "But I knew, one day, I would."

James gripped the wheel tighter. "I've never asked before, but… what was it really like? Living with them."

Charlotte hesitated. She had spent years burying those memories, locking them away in the darkest parts of her mind. But now, sitting beside James—the one person who had fought for her, chosen her—she realized she didn't have to hide anymore.

She turned to face him. "You know how fairy tales always have an evil stepmother and cruel stepsisters?"

James nodded, his jaw tightening.

"Well," she said with a hollow laugh, "mine wasn't a fairy tale. There was no prince coming to rescue me. Just long days of being treated like an outsider in my own home."

James remained silent, letting her speak at her own pace.

"When my father was alive, Janet pretended to tolerate me. She put on a show—acted like the perfect wife, the caring stepmother. But the moment he died, everything changed." Charlotte's voice wavered, but she pushed forward. "Aurora and Olivia were always favored. They had everything—expensive clothes, lavish parties, tutors. And me? I was a nuisance. A burden. Janet made sure I knew that."

James's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "What did she do?"

Charlotte exhaled slowly. "She took everything my father left me—his company, my home, my future. She made me feel worthless, like I was nothing without her permission. And Aurora… she was worse. She loved making me feel small." Then She cried

James didn't say anything at first, but the tension rolling off him was palpable. Finally, he spoke, his voice laced with anger. "If I had known…"

Charlotte placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. "It doesn't matter now. I survived. And I got out."

James pulled the car over to the side of the road, parking beneath the glow of a streetlight. He turned to her, his eyes burning with emotion. "You didn't just survive, Charlotte. You won. Look at you." His fingers brushed against her cheek, gentle but firm. "They tried to break you, but you're still standing. Stronger than ever."

Charlotte swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the intensity in his gaze.

"You're not alone anymore," James continued, his voice softer now. "Whatever they did to you, whatever they took—I swear to you, they will never have that power over you again."

Charlotte's heart clenched at his words. No one had ever defended her like this. No one had ever cared this deeply.

Without thinking, she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. It wasn't just passion—it was gratitude, trust, and something even deeper.

When she pulled away, James cupped her face. "I mean it, Charlotte. They don't get to control your story anymore."

She smiled, a real, genuine smile. "No, they don't."

And for the first time in years, she truly believed it.