CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Watch Me

I wasn’t sure how long I stayed on the floor.

Everything after Dominic walked out blurred into static—white noise pressed against the inside of my skull. Time folded in on itself, slow and suffocating, until my legs went numb and my thoughts stopped making sense. The soft golden light from the chandeliers buzzed faintly above me, too warm, too perfect. A cruel contrast to how cold I felt inside.

The velvet rug beneath me was the only thing anchoring me to reality, and even that felt borrowed. Like everything else in this house.

My hands were clenched in my lap, nails digging crescents into my palms. My breathing had slowed, but the war inside me had not. I kept hearing Dominic’s voice—smooth, cruel, unbothered.

"No one."

No one would protect me from him. Not even him. Especially not him.

The soft creak of the bedroom door pulled me back to the present. I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

The scent of leather and danger reached me before her voice did.

“Tell me who I need to kill,” Jules said simply.

She didn’t say it for drama. She said it like a real offer.

I let out a bitter breath. “No one. Not today.”

She stepped into the room, boots echoing lightly across the marble. She stopped a few feet from me and crouched, resting her arms on her knees as she looked at me with that sharp, no-bullshit kind of compassion that didn’t come with pity. That’s what made Jules different.

“You planning to get up, or should I call in backup and an exorcist?”

I forced a shaky smile. “I’m working on it.”

“Good,” she said, standing. “Because this floor is way too expensive for breakdowns. Crying here feels like disrespect.”

I dragged myself to my feet slowly, my body heavy and sore in all the places grief liked to hide. My muscles ached from tension. My ribs hurt from holding my breath too long.

She offered her hand, but I shook my head and waved her off.

I needed to do this part alone.

We stood in silence for a moment before she asked, “You want me to stay?”

I hesitated. Then shook my head again. “No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want comfort,” I said, my voice rough and low. “I don’t want to be held or told it’ll get better. I don’t want a warm hug or a soft place to land.”

She didn’t speak, just waited.

“I want fire,” I said. “I want to burn them all.”

Her eyes gleamed. “There she is.”

And just like that, she left.

No speeches. No hugs. Just Jules—sharp, loyal, and terrifying in all the right ways.

I walked straight into the en suite bathroom, still wearing the oversized silk robe that felt like a stranger’s skin. I didn’t even bother to peel it off before stepping under the shower. I twisted the handle all the way to the left, let the water heat until it was nearly scalding, and stepped in fully clothed.

The fabric clung to my body instantly, heavy and suffocating. But I didn’t move. I let the water rush over me, steam curling into the air like ghosts. I closed my eyes and imagined it was washing off everything—Blake’s voice, his mother’s smugness, the Reynolds name dripping like poison from their lips. Dominic’s smirk, his threats, the way he looked at me like I was already broken.

I stood there until the numbness gave way to something else—something harder, heavier. Anger. Not the kind that explodes.

The kind that builds.

When I stepped out of the shower, the woman in the mirror didn’t look like Scarlett Reynolds anymore. Her eyes were darker. Her shoulders straighter. Her face was raw, stripped of makeup, stripped of softness, but something powerful lingered there.

I towel-dried my hair roughly, then opened the armoire.

Instead of one of the designer silk gowns or neatly pressed loungewear laid out for me, I reached for a white button-down shirt. His. Dominic’s.

It smelled like him.

I should’ve hated that.

I slipped it on anyway. The cuffs hung over my wrists. The fabric hung loose, brushing the tops of my thighs. I rolled the sleeves up slowly, deliberately. No jewelry. No bra. Nothing to soften the lines.

Then I padded barefoot down the long hallway of the mansion, past tall French windows and halls that gleamed with too much money. The house was so quiet it echoed. Everything in this place was too perfect—curated and composed like it was afraid of anything real.

I wasn’t afraid anymore.

I found myself on the east balcony, the one that overlooked the gardens and the marble fountain at the heart of the courtyard. The night wind swept past me, cold and biting, and I let it sting. Let it remind me I was still alive.

The city lights sparkled faintly in the distance, blurred by the mist of the coming rain.

I stood with both hands on the stone railing, shirt fluttering in the wind, my legs bare, my spine straight.

I didn’t need a speech. Or a plan. Or a witness.

I just needed a decision.

And I made it.

I stared out into the night and whispered, voice low, rough, and certain.

“Fine. Watch me.”

I would burn down every lie. I would rip the Reynolds family apart from the inside. I would carve out my place in the world and dare anyone to take it from me.

I would smile for the cameras. Kiss Dominic like I meant it. Play the perfect, polished billionaire wife—and then I’d slit throats with the same smile.

They wanted a show?

I was done surviving.

I was going to make them wish I hadn’t.

I didn’t hear him arrive, but I felt it.

The air behind me changed. Thickened.

I didn’t turn.

I didn’t have to.

Dominic stood just inside the doorway, his presence heavy, humming with tension.

“You’re cold,” he said after a beat.

His voice was calm. Not soft. Not harsh. Just… observing.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need his concern, real or performative.

We stood there for a moment, silence crackling like kindling between us.

He took a step closer, but didn’t touch me. “Tomorrow will be fun.”

I tilted my head slightly, but kept my eyes on the horizon.

“For one of us,” I said.

Our eyes met for the first time that night through the reflection in the glass door.

Neither of us smiled.

Neither of us blinked.

And in that moment, I knew—

Whatever tomorrow brought, whatever war we walked into—

I would not be the victim again.