Silver moonlight poured across the Watson estate, its glow casting long shadows through the glass panes. Laughter echoed from the spacious living room—carefree, hearty, and cruel in its oblivion. The Watsons were basking in comfort. And Scarlet Andy? She was drowning in silence.
Upstairs in the master bedroom, Scarlet sat hunched on the edge of the bed, folding the last of the laundry she'd washed with blistered fingers. Her vision swam, heat making her cheeks flush as sweat trickled down her neck. Her body ached. Fever gripped her like an iron glove, but rest had become a stranger—just like love. She reached for the next piece of clothing. Lucas' suit. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pressed the fabric between her palms. Her heart whispered, You’ve given too much. The door creaked open. “There you are. Are you planning to spend the whole night folding clothes like a sloth?” Clair's voice sliced through the air, sharp and venom-laced. She leaned against the doorframe with crossed arms and a look of distaste etched across her perfectly made-up face. Scarlet didn’t flinch. She was used to it. The insults. The mockery. The never-ending reminders that she didn’t belong. “I'll be done soon,” Scarlet said softly. “Do you need anything?” “Clearly.” Clair rolled her eyes. “The AC’s blowing hot air, Maria’s not feeling well, and we need iced juice—fast. You know how fragile she is. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. Lucas would lose his mind.” Scarlet’s grip on the suit tightened. Her jaw clenched. Maria. Always Maria. She had given Lucas everything—her time, her respect, her loyalty. And in return, she got cold stares and colder nights. Her heart beat quietly in the shadows of a man who never saw her. Who never wanted her. Not when Maria Owen existed. Clair lingered in the doorway. Her eyes scanned Scarlet with open disdain. “You know,” she began, her voice dripping with venom, “you were never supposed to marry my brother. If Uncle Lewis hadn’t pushed for it, Maria would’ve been Mrs. Watson by now. But she needed rest, and you? You were the convenient fill-in. A placeholder. It’s been a year, and look at you—old, barren, and irrelevant.” Scarlet’s heart snapped as Lucas’ suit slipped from her fingers and dropped to the floor. The air felt too tight, like a fist closing around her ribs. But she said nothing. Clair smirked and walked away, her heels clacking like cruel punctuation. And then—voices. Familiar. Too familiar. From down the hall, Scarlet heard Lucas speaking. His tone was low. Gentle. The kind of tone she had begged for. “You don’t have to worry about anything,” he murmured. “Lucas,” Maria’s voice responded, coy and sultry, “am I ruining your marriage? Am I a burden to you?” “Never,” Lucas said, with a tenderness Scarlet had never received. “I only care about you, my dear.” Her knees gave out. She sank to the floor, one hand pressed against her mouth to muffle the sob that threatened to escape. All this time, she had been telling herself love could grow. That if she tried hard enough, Lucas would notice her. But no. He had already chosen. And it wasn’t her. Her eyes trailed to the heap of clothes beside her… and the condoms she had found in his pockets. The truth bled in slowly, steadily, until it soaked through every piece of hope she had left. The door opened again. Maria. Clad in smugness and expensive perfume, she strutted into the room like she owned it. “I’m still waiting on that iced juice, Miss Andy. Sorry to bother you,” she said with a grin that screamed mockery. Scarlet stood slowly, holding Lucas’ suit once more. “Small correction,” she said coldly, her eyes narrowing. “It’s Mrs. Watson. Not Miss Andy.” Maria’s smile faded, her eyes narrowing. “You really don’t get it, do you?” she hissed. “You may be his wife by law, but Lucas loves me. Always has. This marriage is a sham. You’re nothing but a shadow wearing a ring.” Scarlet inhaled shakily but didn’t look away. “Love doesn’t erase the law,” she said, lifting her left hand. “I’m the one with the ring. The one whose name is beside his on legal papers. Not you.” Maria’s face twisted in fury. “You think a ring matters? He’s never even touched you, has he? Meanwhile, he’s memorized every inch of me.” Scarlet flinched. The words cut deeper than any blade. “Get out,” she whispered. Maria took a step closer. “Or what? You’ll cry?” “I said get out!” Maria sneered. Then, without warning, she grabbed a mug from the shelf, smashed it on the floor, and sliced her own hand on a shard. Scarlet gasped. “What are you—Maria!” She reached to help, but Maria slapped her hand away and deliberately screamed. Moments later, Lucas and Clair burst into the room. Scarlet’s blood ran cold. “Lucas, she attacked me!” Maria sobbed, holding out her bleeding hand like a trophy. “She went mad!” “No! That’s not—” Scarlet tried to explain, but Lucas stormed past her. He didn’t look at her. Not once. He bent over Maria instead, inspecting her wound, whispering softly as he helped her up with Clair’s assistance. Scarlet staggered. Her vision dimmed. She felt the warm trail of blood on her cheek from the cut Maria had given her… but no one noticed. No one cared. She was still standing. But inside, she had shattered.The morning of the wedding bloomed with golden sunlight and a sky so clear it felt like heaven had pressed pause. A soft breeze whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of roses and jasmine, while doves nestled on branches like nature’s blessing.The garden venue looked like a dream carved into the earth — tall white arches wrapped in ivory flowers and draped silk, chairs arranged in perfect symmetry, and a floral aisle lined with petals that shimmered like snow.A vintage quartet played quietly, their strings echoing through the crisp air as guests arrived, dressed in soft pastels and quiet elegance.It wasn’t just a wedding.It was a rebirth.---**Scarlet stood inside the bridal suite**, her back to the mirror, veil gently pinned by her stylist. Her heart pounded — not from fear, but awe. The woman staring back at her in the mirror wore no sorrow. She wasn’t the shattered soul she used to be.She was radiant. Whole.And in love.Lyssa stepped in with a breathless smile. “Eve
Lucas wasn’t used to feeling nervous. Not anymore.Not in conference rooms. Not in front of the press. Not even in courtrooms when his world was crumbling piece by piece.But tonight, as he stood in front of the full-length mirror adjusting his shirt for the fifth time, a flicker of old nerves stirred in his chest.Loretta.It had been years since they'd last spent time together without the noise of their past. No wealth, no pain, no expectations. Just two people who used to race bicycles down dusty roads and laugh under mango trees.And now… they were both grown. Changed. Bruised, but standing.His driver pulled up in front of the **Moonflower Café**, a rooftop garden restaurant bathed in warm string lights and soft bossa nova music drifting through the open air. Lucas stepped out, dressed in a dark blazer and gray turtleneck, a quiet bouquet of white gardenias in hand.She was already there.Sitting at a corner table with a view of the skyline, her hair twisted elegantly, gold earri
The office of Lucas Enterprises buzzed with the usual Monday morning rhythm — phones ringing, shoes clacking across tiled floors, and assistants moving in and out with updates and reports.Lucas leaned back in his chair, reviewing a marketing pitch when his secretary entered holding a slim black box and a single rose wrapped in silk paper.“Sir,” she said, smiling. “This was delivered for you.”He frowned slightly. “From who?”“No name. Just a note.”She handed him a small card.Lucas opened the envelope, curious.***“Happy Birthday, Lucas. Some things are timeless — like a rose, and memories of us riding bikes down Iverson Street. – L.”***Lucas blinked.L?He opened the box. Inside was a luxurious bottle of **Santal Absolu** — a rare fragrance he hadn’t worn since he was twenty-one. The scent brought memories flooding back.He hadn’t even realized it was his birthday.A soft knock pulled him from his thoughts.The door opened.And there she stood.**Loretta James.**Her hair was lon
Lucas had never rehearsed so many times before dialing a number.His fingers hovered over Scarlet’s contact on his screen, the name as familiar as the ache it carried.*Just do it*, he told himself.He hit call.The line rang twice before she picked up, her voice calm and guarded.“Hello?”“Scarlet,” he began, his tone gentler than usual. “I know I’m the last person you want to hear from. But… I was wondering if we could talk.”She was quiet. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Lucas.”“I know,” he said. “I get it. I just… I need to say some things. Just once. Please.”A long pause followed. Then she sighed softly.“Fine. One hour. Public café. Nothing dramatic.”Lucas smiled faintly. “Thank you.”---She was already seated when he arrived — calm, beautiful, and composed in a beige blouse and black trousers. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and her eyes met his with cool detachment.Lucas sat across from her, nervous in a way he hadn’t felt in years.“I know you don’t owe
Lucas sat at the head of the long mahogany conference table, the blinds behind him half-drawn, letting in thin beams of mid-morning light. A steaming cup of coffee sat untouched beside a folder of projections, his mind miles away from numbers or meetings.He kept replaying Peter’s words over and over — *“Scarlet chose me because you lost her.”*No matter how much he tried to bury the ache, it gnawed at him. It wasn’t just the sting of jealousy, or even the shame of watching his ex-wife move on.It was the realization that Peter — the brother he once mocked for growing up in the shadows — had become everything he was not.A leader.A man Scarlet could actually love.A knock on the door jolted him.“Yes?” he said, voice low.His secretary peeked in. “Sir… I think you’ll want to hear this.”She stepped aside for his personal assistant, Daniel, a sharp, well-informed man with his tablet in hand.“Investors,” Daniel said, eyes gleaming. “We’re seeing activity again.”Lucas blinked. “What k
The scent of fresh lilies and the soft hum of jazz music filled the open space of *SCARLET Holdings*. The sun poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm, golden hue across the polished floors. Staff moved with energy and pride, not with fear. Laughter echoed from the creative department; someone had just brought in homemade cupcakes.Scarlet stood at the center of it all — calm, focused, glowing.Her office had no doors.That was intentional.She had insisted on a layout that allowed her to stay accessible to her team. A symbol that no one would be silenced or diminished within these walls.“Ma’am,” her assistant called, walking briskly. “The expansion proposal is ready for your review, and the charity team wants to know if you’ll be attending the gala.”Scarlet glanced up from her desk, already reviewing numbers. “Yes, and yes. Send me the drafts. I’ll go through them on the flight.”The assistant paused. “Flight?”Scarlet blinked. “Wait — what flight?”Just then,