The Day Our Promise Breaks

"Do you believe me... I really didn't... you know me, how could I be that malicious?" Dahlia's tears fell like raindrops, each word a plea wrapped in raw emotion. She was all in, playing her last card to win over Charles's trust. If he stood by her, maybe he wouldn't bother with the evidence. Even if Wesley laid it out, Charles might ignore it.

But this time, Charles wasn't the same as before. In the past, he'd just say, "I believe you," without a second thought. Now, his face was cold and handsome, his silence loud as he focused on bandaging her wrist.

Seeing this, Dahlia felt a chill spread inside her, but she wasn't ready to throw in the towel. Wesley hadn't shown the evidence yet. It wasn't over till it was over. Desperation took over, and she yanked her hand away, refusing Charles's help, even clawing at her freshly bandaged wound.

Looking at Charles with despair, she sobbed, "Charles, do you really not believe me?" His silence only made her cry harder. "If you don't believe me, what's the point of living? I might as well be dead!" The wound was deep, and her struggling only made things worse, blood flowing faster. Her lips lost their color, and her vision dimmed from blood loss. Panic gripped her—she'd already gone this far, what if it was all for nothing?

She wasn't fearless about dying. She just knew losing Charles's trust meant her world ending in a way she couldn't bear. She couldn't lose him, she truly loved him, and she cherished her life of luxury.

"Dahlia! Stop it, do you want to lose your hand?" Charles shouted, pulling her close, his grip firm on her reckless hand. Seeing her disregard for her own life, he couldn't help but worry. Everyone else was gone-Grandma, Ms. Josephine. He only had her left. She couldn't die!

"If I don't want to live, what's the point of having my hand? If you don't believe me, just leave me be." She accused, "You've already chosen Evelyn over me, decided I'm the villain..."

"Charles, I never thought you'd doubt me..." Dahlia wept, seeing the care in his eyes even now, looking as if she really had given up on life.

"I don't!" Charles snapped. Without solid proof, he wouldn't convict Dahlia based

on Wesley's words. But he couldn't deny the doubt Wesley had planted in his mind. "If you don't, then why don't you believe me?" Dahlia cried, her voice weakening.

"I believe you!" Charles said, fearing what might happen if she lost hope. If she was determined to die, she might refuse help, even in the hospital. He had to go along with her.

"Really?" Dahlia's tears flowed freely, but she finally quieted in Charles's arms.

"Yeah." Charles reassured her. With his promise, Dahlia sagged against him, exhaustion pulling her under as she closed her eyes. This drastic step hadn't been for nothing.

The ambulance siren wailed outside,

and Charles didn't waste a moment, carrying Dahlia down the stairs. Wesley stumbled after them, his mind blank from the moment Dahlia had cut herself. He understood her reasons, even knew why she'd attempt something so drastic. But seeing that deep wound, his heart couldn't reject the love he felt for her. All he could think was, Dahlia must not die.

With everyone gone, the door closed behind them, and the ambulance sirens faded. Evelyn didn't bother with the blood on the floor, sliding down to sit. Charles's last words, "I believe," echoed in her mind. She gripped Charlie's memory tightly, vowing softly, "Charlie, Mommy won't give up. I'll get justice for you, no matter what it takes."

It was a battle to the end with Dahlia.

At the hospital, Dahlia was rushed into emergency, her life hanging by a thread. Bag after bag of blood was sent in. Wesley watched the medical team hustle, crouched against the wall, worry etched on his face. Charles stood by the door, the glowing red light above it adding to the tension in the air.

Time crawled by until, finally, the light blinked off. The door swung open, and the doctor stepped out, “Mr. Jenkins, Ms. Dahlia is out of immediate danger, but the next 24 hours are crucial. She needs close monitoring."

"Okay,” Charles replied, his voice a low rumble. As Dahlia was wheeled to a room, Charles turned to find Wesley, wanting to talk about the evidence. But the hallway was empty.

"Charles..." Dahlia's voice was a faint whisper, half-conscious, clinging to his

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