The Day Our Promise Breaks (Charles and Evelyn) novel Chapter 635

Night had fallen, draping the city in a velvet blanket of deep blue and black.

Evelyn’s phone rang out of nowhere. It was Taylor, calling to remind her—the semi-finals were about to start. Once they began, she’d be cut off from the world for a whole week.

“Yes, Ms. Sanders. I got it,” she replied, her voice scratchy and weary. She hung up, but the weight in her chest only grew heavier, as if she was being pressed down by a mountain.

On one side was her daughter—lost, found, but still heartbreakingly out of reach. On the other was the dream she’d built together with Charlie, the dream they’d both sacrificed so much for.

Charles watched the pain flicker across her pale face. It tore at him, sharp and merciless.

He stepped closer, voice steady and deep, a promise in every word. “Eve, I’ve already lined up the best people. There’ll be someone outside the villa watching over Charlie, twenty-four seven. I promise you—on my life—she’ll be safe.”

“Just give me some time. I swear, I’ll bring our daughter back to you, unharmed. I won’t let anything happen to her. Please, trust me one more time. Just this once, okay?”

His eyes were dark, filled with guilt and a resolve that wouldn’t be shaken.

Evelyn didn’t respond. She just stared at the brightly lit villa, silent and unmoving, until the clock ticked to nine and Charlie’s bedroom light blinked out.

The darkness swallowed the last bit of light, and with it, Evelyn’s strength seemed to drain away.

“…Take me back to the hotel.”

Her voice was barely a whisper, light as a feather.

…

Back at her luxurious hotel suite, Evelyn felt trapped in a world of ice.

Grief, worry, guilt, and a longing that had nowhere to go churned inside her, a storm she couldn’t escape.

She tossed and turned in bed, the sheets feeling like they were made of thorns—every minute a new kind of torture.

Next door, Charles watched her on the security feed, his own heart twisting at the sight of her pain.

Quietly, he told the staff to light a special candle in her room, one meant to calm nerves and ease sleep.

A gentle, herbal scent filled the air, cool and clean, slowly unraveling the tight knot inside her until, finally, sleep claimed her—soft, deep, but streaked with tears.

In Charles’s room, though, the lights never went out.

He opened his laptop, its cold glow outlining the hard lines of his face.

And the source: Northern Myanmar, through underground channels.

“Northern Myanmar…”

The words stabbed through Charles like an icicle, sending memories flooding back.

Six months ago, his contacts from Myanmar had sent him news: Dahlia, the cruel woman he’d once feared, was dead.

The dates matched—down to the week.

He sprang into action, pulling every string he had, following the trail as far as it would go.

Orders flew out; encrypted messages blinked on his screen.

Hours later, a top-secret, urgent report landed in his inbox.

The conclusion was cold as steel, tainted with blood:

The heart beating inside Luna’s chest…was Dahlia’s. There was no doubt.