The Illegitimate Flame: Bride of Ashes-Chapter 56- DIVORCE AGREEMENT

"Isn’t that my gift?"

Janet pulled his hand away and pointed out the window with a radiant smile.

Outside, brilliant fireworks bloomed across the Parisian night sky like scattered stars, illuminating the glass and casting soft light into the room.

To her, it wasn’t the grandeur that mattered. It was the thought, the effort. Unlike other women who longed for glittering jewels or designer handbags, Janet’s heart ached only for a simple, sincere blessing—something so basic, yet so out of reach in her past life. From her so-called family—her father and sister who shared her blood—she’d never received even that.

"Janet..."

Sensing the sudden sadness in her smile, Charles pulled her into a tight embrace. The evening breeze lifted her long hair, brushing gently across his face. His heart stirred.

"Then... how about I give myself to you?"

His voice was low and husky, breath warm against her ear. His words, shameless and full of heat, sent shivers down her spine. That look in his eyes—fervent, burning—left her powerless to resist.

In that moment, Janet surrendered to the beautiful dream he had created around her. If time could freeze right now, she wouldn’t mind. As long as he was there, by her side.

"We’re flying back tomorrow."

Charles changed direction suddenly, sweeping her into his arms in a bridal carry as he strode back into the room. When the wall clock’s hands neared midnight, he pushed the dessert cart forward. Atop it, a magnificent cake glowed with twenty lit candles.

Before Janet could even blink, the room went dark.

He had turned off every light—leaving only the soft golden glow of the candles, flickering like stars in the dim room.

He had waited deliberately. He didn’t want to return until after her birthday, just so he could celebrate it with her in Paris.

Janet’s heart clenched.

She knew what kind of man Charles was—picky, proud, impossibly difficult to please. Yet when it came to her, he yielded again and again. His love for her wasn’t just out of guilt for the child they had lost... it went far deeper than that.

When she finally blew out the candles, the room fell into utter darkness. The only thing she could feel was the faint, elegant scent of the man behind her. It slipped through the air, slipping into her heart. Even the air seemed warmer now.

She had barely shifted her feet when a pair of strong hands gripped her waist. In the next second, her slender body was pressed onto the bed. The heat of his breath fell hot and fast against her ear.

"Janet... I want you."

His voice trembled with restraint, his words filled with desperate yearning.

Janet’s heart softened. She knew—if she didn’t say yes, he would never force her. But he had waited long enough. She couldn’t bear to make him wait anymore.

Without a word, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

This was their last night in Paris. No one knew what tomorrow would bring once they returned. For now, she just wanted to be selfish. Even if it was wrong... she was ready to face the consequences.

When she gave her silent consent, Charles gently undid the sash of her robe. His hands roamed across her milky-smooth skin, the familiar texture driving him mad like the first time he touched her.

But as his fingers trailed down her back, he suddenly froze.

He felt something—faint scars, barely noticeable. His eyes narrowed, a dark glint flickering through the star-like depths of his gaze.

Even in the shadows, he could tell.

She had been hurt before.

And Charles had no doubt who the culprits were—someone from the Louis family.

The thought only made Charles more tender. He pressed gentle kisses along her neck, his movements deliberately slow, reverent even.

Janet could feel everything—every subtle brush, every inch of warmth. It was nothing like their first time, where everything was hazy and blurred. Tonight, she was fully awake. Fully aware.

And she could feel Charles’s devotion in every touch.

It was as if he were worshipping her body, tracing her skin like it was something sacred. When his fingertips reached her most intimate place, and his whispered love filled the quiet between them, a single tear slipped from Janet’s eye.

Charles kissed it away, his lips soft and tender.

"Janet, I love you..." he murmured against her lips.

Only when she was ready—her body slick with anticipation—did he slowly enter her, moving with a rhythm so gentle, so measured, it made her shudder.

"Ah..."

The sudden fullness made Janet’s body tremble and arch backward instinctively. Charles’s large hands slid from her breasts to her waist, lifting her hips as he deepened the motion. Once she had adjusted to him, he gradually picked up the pace—filling her again and again with a firm yet loving rhythm.

"Happy birthday... Janet..." he breathed, his voice low and magnetic.

The discomfort faded quickly, replaced by waves of building pleasure. Her long, sweat-dampened hair tangled in his fingers as he led her toward one high after another, until she was drowning in ecstasy.

As the clock struck midnight, his warm breath wrapped around her ears, repeating those words again and again.

Happy birthday. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

I love you.

They made love through the night.

Again and again, until Charles was finally spent, and Janet lay beneath him, fast asleep—completely exhausted, completely his.

Brushing the damp hair from her forehead, Charles gazed at her pale, porcelain face with a look of obsession. He could look at her like this for the rest of his life—and still not have enough.

When Janet finally woke, he was gone.

The space beside her was cold—he must’ve left a while ago. Wrapping herself in the blanket, her body still tingling from the night before, she took her time recovering. Her eyes drifted to the faint marks scattered across her skin.

A blush bloomed on her cheeks. The memories made her heart flutter with sweetness.

She got out of bed, slipped into a bathrobe, and spotted something on the nightstand.

A single sheet of paper, neatly folded and left where she’d find it.

She picked it up, eyes widening the moment she saw the title.

DIVORCE AGREEMENT.

Five bold words. So simple, yet they stole her breath away.

Her throat tightened as tears welled up in her eyes.

This—this—was the real birthday gift.

By the time she stepped out of the shower, Charles had returned.

He knew she wasn’t fond of French breakfast, so he had gone out early to get something she would actually enjoy. Seeing her emerge in a light yellow wrap-top over a long fitted T-shirt, her delicate figure nearly swallowed by the soft fabric—he felt that now-familiar urge to hide her away from the world.

"Got your present?" he asked with a smirk. "Glad you liked it."

Janet walked over gracefully and took the breakfast from his hand. She smiled sweetly. "Of course I liked it."

He’d remembered—her taste, her favorites: chocolate Black Forest, with coconut jelly.

"Oh, come on," Charles chuckled, brushing a crumb from the corner of her lips with a teasing finger. "After how hard I worked last night... you better like it."

His gaze drifted toward the nightstand.

The signed divorce papers were still there.

The walls between them—once cold and high—were finally beginning to fall.

"I didn’t mean that!" Janet stomped her foot, glaring at him, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. His teasing smile only deepened, eyes dancing with mischief.

Before he could say another word, she stuffed the piece of cake—the one she had just bitten into—straight into his mouth.

Charles didn’t even flinch.

This man—someone with a notorious obsession for cleanliness—actually ate her leftovers without blinking. Janet stared at him, utterly speechless.

He even licked the frosting from the corner of his lips like it was nothing.

"For someone who’s supposed to be a clean freak, you sure don’t act like one," she muttered.

Charles chuckled, swallowing the bite easily. "I’ve already had your saliva more times than I can count. What’s the big deal?"

Janet was stunned into silence.

She had no comeback for that.