The Day Our Promise Breaks (Charles and Evelyn) novel Chapter 545

His thin lips parted as if to speak.

But Josephine didn’t give him the chance.

She’d said everything she needed to say to Charles.

If he truly felt any guilt, he ought to step away on his own.

“Brooks.”

Josephine looked at Brooks, who had come to pick them up.

She hadn’t wanted Brooks to accompany them to the follow-up appointment today.

When Eve was discharged from the hospital before, it was just to see how Brooks would act.

In fact, over the past year, she had seen for herself how sincere Brooks was toward Eve.

Before, with Charlie’s grudge unresolved, Eve couldn’t bring herself to think about her own happiness.

But now, with Charlie’s revenge fulfilled, it was time for things to settle.

She and Brooks ought to make things official.

Brooks strode toward them.

In front of Charles, Josephine placed Evelyn’s hand firmly into Brooks’s.

Brooks didn’t hesitate for a second—he took her hand and held it tight.

Evelyn didn’t pull away.

Josephine saw the sudden change in Charles’s expression.

She looked over instantly, catching the way his gaze locked on Eve and Brooks’s joined hands—intense, jaw clenched, lips pressed thin.

His whole body was taut, barely containing the storm of emotion inside him.

Josephine shifted, stepping between Charles and Brooks and Evelyn, drawing a clear, unmistakable line.

Her stance was unambiguous.

Charles was the outsider now.

She stood with Brooks. They were her family.

Pain flickered deeper in Charles’s eyes.

But there was nothing he could do. He could only watch as Brooks led Evelyn away, right past him.

He stood rooted to the spot, fists clenched at his sides.

Behind the agony in his eyes was a fierce, undeniable love for Evelyn—and a possessiveness more intense than ever.

Seven hundred and seventy-seven stone steps led to the chapel—a pilgrimage of devotion. Most people chose to climb every step on foot, as tradition dictated.

Charles stood at the base, gazing up at the chapel atop the hill. Without a moment’s hesitation, his knees buckled and he dropped to the ground.

He’d never been a man of faith, but for Charlie, he was willing to believe.

Kneeling in the dust, hands clasped in prayer, Charles bowed his head to the chapel. He prayed with all his heart that his Charlie would find peace in the afterlife.

He begged that, when the time came for her soul to return, she might choose him and Eve again, that he might have the chance to make things right.

He finished his prayer, ignoring the curious looks from passersby, and began his ascent.

Step by step, bowing his head to the earth at each one—seven hundred and seventy-seven steps.

Not one was taken lightly.

By the time he reached the top, his forehead was raw and bleeding.

Dizziness clouded his vision, blood and sweat mingling on his face.

But Charles seemed immune to the pain. Kneeling before the chapel, he wiped the blood and sweat from his brow.

His knees, numb from so long on the stone, refused to support him. For a long moment, he couldn’t even stand.

More than two years before, he had knelt all night at Charlie’s grave. Later, when he’d waded into icy water for hours to retrieve her remains, his knees had never truly healed.