But when Derrick heard Charles's unapologetic tone—so calm, so resolute—his face turned a livid shade of green.
He could concede to Charles on many things.
But not when it came to Philip.
Because deep down, no matter how much he denied it, Derrick was still biased.
The scales in his heart had long since tipped—just not toward Charles.
"I want to see if the so-called head of this family can't even deal with your woman," Derrick said coldly, eyes flashing with dangerous authority.
His gaze flicked to Janet.
She was barely standing, her body swaying like a fragile reed in a storm.
The sprint down the hall had taken too much out of her—she felt the sharp burn of something hot flooding through her lower abdomen, searing against her skin.
She didn't need a doctor to know something was wrong.
She just wanted to close her eyes and block out the nightmare.
"Dad—don't push me," Charles warned, voice low and tight. "Don't touch her. I'll do whatever you want. Just… don't hurt Janet."
