Entangled With My Rival CEO

Chapter 131

Charles paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, his hand hovering over the doorknob.

He hesitated, unsure of what awaited him on the other side.

Just as his fingertips grazed the cold metal, the door swung open, revealing a breathtaking woman in her mid-thirties.

Her long black hair cascaded down, framing her face with a sense of elegance.

Her hazel eyes, piercing yet familiar, held a sense of curiosity.

She was dressed in an elegant black gown that accentuated her curves, an hourglass figure that caught Charles' attention.

A white stethoscope hung from her neck, hinting at her profession.

"Mr. Wilton," she began, a small smile dancing on her lips. "You are here?" Charles furrowed his brow.

"Yes, I just arrived. Doctor... How is my grandmother?" he inquired, his gaze shifting from the woman to the room beyond her.

She glanced briefly over her shoulder, then turned back to face him.

"She's stable at the moment," the doctor said, her voice composed and professional.

"However, we need to conduct some tests to determine what caused her condition... Unfortunately, Mrs. Cena has requested to stay at home instead."

Charles furrowed his brow, his face reflecting his confusion at the doctor's words.

"What happened to her? She was perfectly fine yesterday... And also, why doesn't she want to go to the hospital?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. The doctor shook her head.

"They said she suddenly collapsed during a family gathering," she explained.

"...I suggested that she should come to the hospital for a check up but like I mentioned earlier, she refused."

"She believes that being treated in familiar surroundings with loved ones around her is the best approach."

Charles nodded, still puzzled as to why Harriet would refuse hospital treatment.

The doctor crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"But we still need to convince her to come to the hospital in order for us to run these tests," she added firmly. "Without a proper diagnosis, we're just grasping at straws."

"Of course," Charles replied, nodding once again. The doctor returned the nod before she turned and walked down the corridor, making her exit.

Charles stared at her fading figure, his hand gripping the partially open door handle.

"Charles... are you coming in?" His mother's soft voice called out to him, snapping his attention back to the door.

He slowly pushed it open, revealing everyone gathered around the king-size bed where Harriet lay, her eyes closed.

As he entered the room, the air was filled with the comforting scent of lavender, his grandmother's favorite fragrance, though it was mixed with an underlying heaviness of worry and tension.

His mother, Sophia, stood by the bedside, her eyes red from crying.

His aunts, uncle, cousins, and their spouses were also present, their faces reflecting deep concern.

His grandmother, Harriet Cena, appeared fragile and vulnerable, her gray hair fanned out on the pillow.

Charles approached the bed with quiet steps, his emotions swirling inside him.

"Grandma," he whispered, reaching out to hold her hand. Her eyes fluttered open, and a feeble smile graced her lips.

"Charles, my dear boy," she murmured, her voice filled with affection. "I'm so relieved you're here... I was filled with worry, afraid that maniac had taken you too."

Tears welled up in Charles' eyes as he gently clasped her frail and wrinkled hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm here, Grandma. We're all here with you, ready to fight this battle together, okay?"

Harriet let out a tired sigh. "Fight?" she questioned, looking weary.

Charles nodded firmly. "Yes, fight. We won't give up. We'll stand by your side, Grandma."

A bittersweet smile appeared on her face before she was overcome by a fit of coughing.

When she finally stopped, she let out a small chuckle. "I'm afraid we've already lost this battle, my child."

"Red Saint has tormented and shattered our family to its limits, and I'm afraid I no longer have the strength to hold the pillar together," she admitted sadly.

Charles shook his head, a single tear sliding down his cheek. "No, don't say that, Grandma... We will overcome this together as a family, just like we always have."

"We will ensure your admission to the hospital, and together as a family, we'll overcome this menace, Red Saint, and hold him accountable for the harm he's caused us," Charles assured.

Harriet's response came with a slow, gentle shake of her head. "I'm afraid that won't be possible, Charles. Haven't they told you? He's taken Reynold and Camilla as hostages. We're trapped, with no recourse."

Her gaze shifted to the others in the room as she spoke, her voice filled with determination, though tinged with fragility.

"There's a saying my grandmother used to share with me when I was young." She paused, her eyes returning to Charles, their intensity unbroken, before she continued.

"It says, 'When the bastard child of a family is still young, the household enjoys tranquility."

"But as it grows, and its eyes are opened to the truth of its birth, the peace within the home becomes threatened,'" Harriet recited.

Charles couldn't ignore the uneasiness that settled in the pit of his stomach upon hearing Harriet's words.

It almost felt as if they were directed solely at him. Had she somehow discerned his true identity as the Red Saint?

Before he could dwell on this thought, the door burst open with a sudden kick, and a dozen men clad in black attire with "SWAT" emblazoned across their chests.

Their faces were concealed behind transparent shields, and they all aimed their guns squarely at him.

Charles was overwhelmed by shock as he released Harriet's hand and rose to his feet.

The surprise on the faces of Sophia, his mother, Clarissa, George, Alexander's father, and the others mirrored his own astonishment.

"Mr. Charles Wilton," commanded one of the SWAT members, his voice muffled by the mask, "please step away from the bed and raise your hands."

Before Charles could react, his mother, Sophia, stepped forward, her voice quivering with a mix of anger and fear.

"What is the meaning of this? This is our family home, and you have no right to barge in here and take such actions."

"Who the hell even gave you permission to come in here?!" Sophia demanded, her anger palpable.

In response, Harriet's voice, cold and resolute, cut through the tension.

"I did," she declared matter-of-factly. "Now, move aside and let these men do their job," she added firmly.

Sophia slowly turned her gaze toward her mother, who had risen from the bed, shedding her previous frailty for an aura of fierceness, determination, and authority.

Sophia's face drained of color, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Mom... What is going on? Why would you call the police on Charles... your own grandchild?"

Harriet's gaze burned with intensity at Sophia's words. "He is not my grandchild!" she roared, her voice a tumultuous blend of anger, hurt, regret, and a multitude of other emotions as she pointed accusingly at Charles, who stood protectively behind his mother.

"This boy, whom I welcomed into this family... my family... he doesn't share my blood," her tone softened, but her resolve remained unwavering.

"He is nothing more than the bastard child of your worthless ex-husband, sent here with the sole purpose of tearing this family apart."

She took a breath, her voice steady as she continued, "He aims to bring to ruin everything your father and I have worked so hard to build.

"He has inflicted immeasurable pain and suffering upon this family, and for that... he must be held accountable."

Charles could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he listened to Harriet's damning words.

There was no doubt she had pieced together his true identity.

How? That question raced through his mind, but he had no time to dwell on it; he needed to devise a quick escape plan.

Sophia's gaze remained fixed on Harriet, her eyes brimming with tears.

"What... What are you saying? How could Charles have caused this family pain and torment?"

"Are you accusing him of such terrible things just because I didn't give birth to him?" Sophia's voice trembled with rising frustration.

Harriet met Sophia's gaze with an icy indifference. The room was engulfed in an unbearable silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Everyone awaited Harriet's final response, their eyes locked onto her, hanging on her words.

When a response from Harriet remained absent, Alexander decided to intervene.

"Aunt Sophia... I think we should let Charles speak for himself," he suggested, and Diana, Sophia's younger sister and the second child of the family, echoed his sentiment.

"Yes, let him speak for himself...don't speak for him, let him defend himself." Diana urged, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

The collective attention of the room shifted to Charles, who now stood apart from his mother, Sophia.

Tears streamed down Charles' face, his brow furrowing in confusion.

His voice trembled as he shook his head, "I don't know what she's saying... I've done nothing but love and care for this family as if I were of the same blood as you."

"You lying son of a bitch!" Isabel's rage which she had been trying to contain ever since he entered the room finally erupted like a volcano, and she hurled a hardcover book at him, striking him square in the head and sending him tumbling backward.

Sophia's eyes widened in shock as she rushed to help him to his feet, his forehead oozing blood into his trembling hand.

Sophia's gaze turned toward Isabel, her anger burning intensely. "How dare you?" she seethed through clenched teeth.

But Charles responded with a sinister hiss under his breath, "Oh, Isabel..." His voice took on an unsettlingly deranged tone.

"I should have taken you instead of Camilla... flayed your skin and sent you back to your parents like a macabre postcard,," Charles confessed, his words dripping with venom and malice as he fixed a hateful gaze on Isabel.

The room was consumed by shock and horror as Charles's chilling words hung in the air. Sophia's mouth fell agape, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Charles's eyes scanned the room, and he burst into a peal of maniacal laughter upon seeing the shocked expressions on everyone's faces, except for Alexander, Harriet, and Isabel.

"Look at your faces," he taunted between fits of laughter, pointing at them. "You all look shocked... except for these three," he continued, his gaze shifting from Alexander to Isabel and finally settling on Harriet.

"How long did you guys know, huh?.... That I am Red Saint?" Charles questioned, and Sophia stepped back, her hands trembling. "Charles... son, what are you talking about?"

Charles began to laugh again, his voice strained with madness. "Isn't it funny... I've been playing this innocent, gentle grandson, haven't I?"

"Fooling all of you with my charm and deception," he sneered, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light.

Tears welled up in Sophia's eyes as she took another step back, fear etched on her face. "No... it can't be. You can't be Red Saint," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Charles moved closer to her, a wicked smile playing on his bloodstained lips. "Oh, but I am, dear mother. I am the one who has been tormenting this family, tearing it apart from the inside."

He locked eyes with Harriet, who remained strangely composed amidst the chaos.

"And you, grandmother, I'm quite curious how you finally uncovered this other facet of my identity."

Harriet's composure remained unwavering as she met Charles's gaze. "I didn't... Alexander did," she stated calmly, her gaze shifting to Alexander, who stood beside her with an inscrutable expression.