Delete My Love for You novel Chapter 93

“Sit.”

Darren’s order came out low and commanding.

Charlotte’s brow furrowed. She couldn’t quite decipher his meaning, but her arms and legs already felt heavy with exhaustion. She relented, crossing the room and lowering herself onto the sofa across from him.

She had barely settled when his next words hit her like a stone: “Did you just call me by my full name?”

Her heart skipped a beat.

Lottie was his hired bodyguard—she always addressed him as “Mr. Harrington.” She’d never use his first name.

She’d been caught, but Charlotte quickly composed herself, her voice cool and even. “Mr. Harrington, are you really so concerned about a simple slip of the tongue right now?”

“A slip of the tongue?”

Darren remembered, suddenly, that when she’d shielded him from the shotgun blast earlier, she’d shouted his name then, too. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

But now it was different. Darren’s gaze, sharp and unyielding, fixed on her. He pressed, “In the underground tunnel, you called my son ‘Noah’ as well. Another slip of the tongue?”

“The situation was urgent. I didn’t have time for manners. If you’re so focused on how I addressed you—” Charlotte paused, then gave a bitter, mocking smile. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about how to deal with me, the supposed mastermind behind your son’s attempted murder?”

Her voice had the brittle edge of someone with nothing left to lose, every word laced with irony.

If he truly believed those absurd accusations, he might as well toss out his brain altogether.

Darren reached for a cigarette from the box on the coffee table, flipping open his phone with the other hand and dialing swiftly.

“That carpenter—cut out his tongue and break his hand. Let him know: this is what happens when you try to play me for a fool.”

Darren’s wrath was infamous; once provoked, his retribution was swift and merciless.

As soon as he hung up, Charlotte looked at him, her meaning unmistakable. “You’re certainly a man of principle, Mr. Harrington. What about everyone else?”

Noah’s mountain of lies, Xena—the real mastermind—still hiding in plain sight, all under his watchful eye.

Darren lit his cigarette, blue smoke curling between them. His tone grew darker. “The rest aren’t your concern. This is your final chance. Why did you call me by my name?”

Charlotte’s face remained serene. “Mr. Harrington, forged records? What exactly are you accusing me of?”

Her refusal to admit anything made Darren’s eyes flash with anger. He yanked the cigarette from his mouth and crushed it out in the ashtray, sparks flying.

His voice was ice. “I want to hear it from you. Are you—are you Charlotte or not?”

Charlotte let out a helpless laugh. “From the very beginning, hasn’t it always been you, Mr. Harrington, insisting that I couldn’t possibly be your ex-wife Charlotte? Are you doubting yourself now?”

Back at the Harrington family estate, Nathan Harrington had been the first to look at her and declare, without hesitation, “She’s not the one!”

At the Harrington house, after her injuries had healed and she wore a face identical to his ex-wife, Nathan had been agitated, Noah resentful—but Nathan still insisted, “She can’t be her!”

She knew why Darren had always been so certain.

Because, in his eyes, Charlotte had always been weak, fragile, easy to push aside.

A champion fencer? Facing down a guard dog single-handed? Diving into a river to save someone? As long as these feats were laid out before him, he would never believe that Lottie and Charlotte could possibly be the same person.