Chapter4 Be My Wife

Scarlett’s POV

The silence that followed my words was deafening. Preston's eyes widened, genuine shock flickering across his usually composed face.

"What... what did you just say?" His voice came out strangled, disbelieving. "Scarlett, how can you say something like that?"

Before I could respond, Madison's sweet voice cut through the tension like a knife wrapped in silk.

"Preston, please don't be upset with her." She placed a delicate hand on his arm, her eyes glistening with fake concern. "Scarlett's been through so much. She's just confused right now."

She paused, letting her words sink in before delivering her poison. "I mean, it's natural for feelings to develop when a man saves a woman's life. Maybe... maybe she's feeling things she shouldn't be feeling."

The implication hung heavy in the air.

Pierce's head snapped toward me, his jaw clenched tight. "What the hell is she talking about?"

"Pierce, I didn't mean—" Madison started, but the damage was done.

"No." Pierce's voice was ice. "Say it clearly, Madison. What are you implying?"

Madison bit her lip, looking distressed. "I just... I noticed how Scarlett's been acting lately. Distant. Secretive. And now she's so desperate to break up, and Preston just happened to be the one who saved her..." She trailed off, letting Pierce's imagination fill in the blanks.

Pierce turned to me, fury blazing in his eyes. "Are you fucking kidding me right now? Did you cheat on me with him?"

A laugh bubbled up from my chest—sharp, bitter, almost hysterical. "You're unbelievable."

"Answer the question!"

"You're seriously asking me that?" I met his glare head-on. "You're standing here with your mistress, Pierce. And you have the audacity to accuse me of cheating?"

"That's different—"

"Different how?" I pushed myself up straighter despite the pain. "Because you did it first? Because it's Madison? You can't just project your guilt onto me because you're the one who screwed around."

"I never touched you while I was with Madison!" Pierce shot back. "Can you say the same?"

"Oh my God." I pressed my fingers to my temples.

My voice cracked. "We'd been together for three years, Pierce. Three years. And the moment things got a little tough, the second I needed you most, you ran straight to her bed."

Madison stepped forward, her expression the picture of wounded innocence. "That's not fair, Scarlett. Pierce and I have history.We're the ones who understand each other best, What we have is real—"

"Real?" I cut her off. "You want to talk about real? How about the real reason you're even in this picture? You've been circling Pierce like a vulture since day one, Madison. Playing the sweet, supportive friend while whispering poison in his ear about me."

"I never—"

"Save it." I looked between them, feeling nothing but exhaustion and disgust. "You deserve each other. You really do."

Pierce's hands balled into fists. "You still haven't answered my question. Did you or did you not cheat on me with Preston?"

"I didn't cheat on you with anyone, you paranoid asshole. Unlike you, I actually have standards."

"Then why are you so desperate to end this? Why now?"

"Because I'm done!" The words ripped out of me. "I'm done watching you look at her the way you used to look at me. I'm done pretending I don't see you texting her at dinner. I'm done being the fool who stood by while you built a whole relationship with another woman. I'm just done, Pierce."

"Scarlett..." Madison's voice dripped with false sympathy. "I know you're hurting, but lashing out won't help. Pierce loves you—"

"No, he doesn't." The clarity of it was almost liberating. "And honestly? I don't love him anymore either. So let's all stop pretending this is some great tragedy. You got what you wanted, Madison. Congratulations."

Pierce stepped closer, his face red with anger and something else—jealousy. "This is about Preston, isn't it? You're trying to get back at me."

"Not everything is about you."

"Then explain it to me!"

Madison placed herself between them, tears streaming down her face. "Stop it! Pierce, please. We should go."

She tugged at Pierce's arm, and after what felt like an eternity, he released me. But his eyes stayed locked on mine, full of accusations and hurt pride.

"This isn't over," he said quietly.

Madison steered him toward the door, throwing one last glance over her shoulder—triumphant, victorious.

The door clicked shut behind them, and I finally let myself breathe.

My phone buzzed almost immediately. A message from Emma, my best friend who worked as a manager in the media industry.

Emma: What the actual fuck is going on?? I'm seeing reports about Pierce and Madison everywhere. Are you okay?

I typed back quickly, my fingers trembling.

Me: Long story. Pierce cheated. I'm in the hospital but I'm fine.

Emma: WHAT?! I'm coming over right now.

Me: No, don't. I need you to do something else for me.

Emma: Anything.

Me: Madison needs to be stopped. I need you to watch her, document everything. If she slips up, I need you to catch it on camera.

Emma: Consider it done. That bitch is going down. I'll make sure every camera in this city is on her ass. One wrong move and I'll bury her.

Me: Thank you.

Emma: Don't thank me yet. Just promise me you'll take care of yourself. And call me if you need anything. I mean it, Scar.

I set the phone down and stared at the ceiling.

The reality of my situation settled over me like a heavy blanket.

I needed concrete evidence—real, undeniable proof of Madison's manipulations and Pierce's betrayal.

Words wouldn't be enough, not against Madison's tears and innocent act.

But who could help me? Who had the resources and the motivation to take down both Pierce and Madison?

Madison was technically my cousin, though we'd never been close.

Ever since her mother left her, my father took her in to raise her and favored her in every way, treating her better than he treated me, his own biological daughter.

I needed someone powerful. Someone with connections, resources, and a personal stake in seeing Pierce and Madison suffer. Someone who wouldn't hesitate to get their hands dirty.

As I was thinking this,my hand brushed against something under my pillow.

I pulled it out—a business card, cream-colored with elegant black lettering.

Preston Beaumont

CEO, Beaumont Industries

I stared at it, my mind racing. Had he left this here deliberately? Was this just coincidence, or had Preston been orchestrating this encounter from the beginning? Had he known I'd need him?

The questions swirled, but they didn't matter. Not really. Whether this was fate or calculation, the result was the same.

I needed Preston Beaumont.

I changed out of my hospital gown, ignoring the protests from my still-healing body. Twenty minutes later, I was standing in the gleaming lobby of Beaumont Industries, the card clutched in my hand.

The receptionist looked up as I approached, but before I could introduce myself, a smile spread across his face.

"Ms. Huntington," he said warmly. "The boss has been expecting you. Please, follow me."

He led me through corridors of glass and steel, past offices filled with people who didn't spare me a second glance. We stopped at a set of double doors at the end of a long hallway. The receptionist knocked once, then opened the door.

"Ms. Thompson is here, sir."

"Send her in."

The voice was smooth, controlled, familiar.

I stepped inside.

The office was massive, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. But I barely noticed the view. My eyes were drawn to the figure silhouetted against the afternoon light.

Preston sat in his wheelchair near the window, the sun streaming through the glass and painting gold across his features. Even sitting, he commanded the space—broad shoulders, sharp jawline, golden hair perfectly styled.

The light caught his eyes, turning them amber, almost predatory.

There was something devastating about him in that moment, something that made my breath catch despite everything.

The receptionist left, closing the door with a soft click.

Preston didn't move, just watched me with those knowing eyes. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken understanding.

Then he spoke, his voice cutting straight to the heart of it.

"I'll agree to all your conditions. But I have one condition of my own."

I waited, my pulse quickening.

His gaze held mine, unflinching and absolute.

"You'll be my wife."