Charles Leclerc Charlotte Sine Novels & Stories

I sighed as I looked at Charlotte's hopeful eyes, waiting for a compliment. I was not really angry anymore, so there was no need to stretch things. The earlier we got this sorted out the earlier we leave here. "You look beautiful, Char. Here," I said, stretching out my hand to assist her down the steps. My tone was softer than I intended, and Charlotte's face lit up with a radiant smile. "Thank you,baby" she said cherryly as I held open the door of my Bugatti La Voiture Noire. I got in after her while Mom took her car that was right behind ours and we drove off to the event.

4:16 PM — Fondazione IRCCS Ca’ Granda Ospedale Maggiore Policlinico Charlotte’s boots crunched against the gravel as she stepped out of the black SUV, the cold air biting at her cheeks. Her hair was a storm behind her, caught in the wind. The hem of her coat fluttered like a war banner—torn, ash-dusted, and defiant. Her chest rose and fell with steady breaths. Measured. Controlled. The deal was done. On the surface, Vincent Blackwell had won. But surface never told the whole story. Charlotte had given him silence, let him drink his illusion of victory like fine wine. But beneath it all, she carried fire—molten and merciless.

Mitch. It's a good match to another photo we have. Charlotte keeps a copy in her room, framed and sitting among her books. But in that photo, her mother looks tired, drained; at the end of her tether. In this one, she's smiling and beautiful. She wears a classically styled dress and is elegantly made-up. She's wearing a silver necklace, small but tasteful, just right for her outfit. Seated to her left is a face we know, at least in a much older version; Klempner. He's well-dressed, in a good suit, looking prosperous. But despite the apparent party atmosphere, his lips are pressed flat, his eyes narrowed.

I stilled at the voice. Leo. To annoy me further, he stretched out a hand, which Charlotte accepted, and he smoothly kissed her palm. My hands curled into fists at that sight. “Why, thank you.” She blushed, and complimented back. “You don't look so bad yourself,” I knew Charlotte was just being polite, but the glint in Leo's eyes at her words made me want to punch him. Selina walked up to us too. “Charlotte! You look so beautiful. Look at you!” the older woman gushed.

Perhaps it was thanks to James Lu's influence that she was able to easily form sarcastic and derisive sentences like this. "Hmph! You might be powerless, but that doesn't mean whatever sleazebag you hooked up with is the same!" "What do you mean?" "What do I mean?" Charlotte hatefully spat out with disdain, "I've heard everything from Josephine. You managed to hook up with James Lu, didn't you?" "......"

JD’s POV: Charlotte pulled up in her sleek black Benz looking like she just stepped out of a Vogue editorial: hair slicked, lips glossed, heels unforgiving. . I stood outside in my studded blazer, boots freshly wiped, cologne dabbed with scientific precision. Gosh, I hope she doesn't notice that I drank something. She rolled the window down and gave me a flirty look. “You so hot, my hotheaded king.” I smirked. “You trying to undress me with your eyes, Ms. Fontaine?”