Chapter 3: The Offer

A strong cold wind from up high raked against Scarlet's face. This icy kiss, sharp and cold, carried with it a thin, hollow rumble of life from the distant city acting as a persistent reminder of the world she momentarily had no part in.

She caught her breath with a sharp, cold sting and squinted at the unexpected intrusion into her solitude, a low voice growing powerful and disrupting that fragile peace she had felt.

“Is this your final decision? Your last option?”

Scarlet jerked, her heart racing, her head snapping toward the sound.

A gloomy person stood near the slight glow of a road post, hidden in obscure darkness.

Her pulse quickened as she hesitated to speak.

“W-what?”

The figure titled his head slightly, stepping closer, though the shadows still clung to him like a second skin.

“I asked, is this it for you? Taking you so long to jump. A coward, aren't you?”

Scarlet stiffened, his words cutting like glass. 

“Who are you?” 

She demanded, her voice trembling but firm. 

The man ignored her question, his movement deliberate as he stepped forward with an unnerving calm. 

The light brought out his features, tall and imposing. With a predatory attitude, he moved forward. He had a well-sculpted appearance, his black hair was glowing in the dim light of the night, and his icy blue eyes seemed to follow her closely. 

Her breath caught. 

The way he moved left her feeling uneasy. 

Putting his hands in pockets, he smirked. “Scarlet Elle Sinclair. Once the darling of Stardom Heights. Started young, catapulted to fame by 18. The face of countless brands, beloved by millions. And now?”

He paused, his tone sharpening.

“Disgraced. Penniless. Branded a fraud and liar.”

Scarlet frozen, her stomach twisting. 

How did he know so much about her?

Scarlet whispered, her voice lost in the wind.

“What do you want?”

He ignored her again, his gaze unwavering.

“Tomorrow, the headlines will read, ‘Scarlet Elle Sinclair commits suicide.’ And then what? You vanish into nothingness, and the people who did this to you—they get to celebrate their victory. That's your legacy.”

She tried to speak, but words failed her.

Finally, she inhaled.

"None of this concerns you. It doesn't matter anymore. No one cares anyway."

The man stepped closer, his presence growing more and more overwhelming. 

"I care," he said, his voice calm and firm.

"Because seeing you like this—it's pathetic. This isn't the Scarlet that the world loves. You're a fighter, you don't just give up.”

She snickered, her mouth twisted.

“Please go,” she murmured, trying not to sob.

“Then jump,” the man said.

No sympathy. 

No emotional response.

Scarlet looked up at him feeling both defiant and scared. The idea of jumping terrified her. 

"Go ahead,” he continued, his voice steady and icy. 

"Jump. End it all. Give them what they want—a final reason to laugh at you. Let them celebrate your death. Let them win. " 

His words struck her like a fist.

Scarlet's body shook, her fists clenched.

"You don't know anything!” 

She wailed, with excruciating agony.

He continued to stare, with no emotion.

“I tried!” She cried, her voice breaking. 

“I tried to fight, but no one would listen. No one believed me. My parents–” 

Her breath hitched as fresh tears spilled down her cheek. 

"Even my parents abandoned me. Max…Sydney…They—" 

Her knees felt weak, but she steadied herself.

The weight of sadness and embarrassment sat on her chest like a wall that would crush her anytime.

“I have no one, ” she whispered. "No one to turn to. No one.”

For a moment, the stranger remained silent.

All he did was stare with those cold icy blue eyes, showing no emotions.

Then, with a voice quite steady, he said, "I believe you."

Scarlet blinked, surprised by how simple his words were. 

"I know you're innocent,” he continued. 

"I know they are the ones who hurt you. You trusted them and they let you down. " 

She forgot her tears for a moment as she faced him fully.

“You…don’t know me,” she said quietly.

He titled his head as he replied sharply.

"You think so?" 

Her eyes narrowed, and she felt more lost.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” 

The man shrugged, his smirk returning. 

“What I want doesn't matter. What matters is what you want. Do you want to let them win? Or do you want to fight back?”

Scarlet stared hard at him, her mind racing. 

She couldn't trust him—how could she? 

But, with his confidence and the ease with which he carried himself, Scarlet paused.

"What do you mean?" she asked with care.

"I mean," he said, moving in close.

“I can give you a second chance. A way to rebuild everything you've lost. To make them pay for what they've done to you."

Her breath caught. 

"Why would you help me?"

“Because," he said, his voice lowering, "we have something in common. And you deserve better than this."

Scarlet narrowed her eyes trying to read him. But his expression gave nothing away. 

Before she could ask more, he dug into his pocket and took out a thin, black card. He gave it to her, his eyes firm.

"You have a choice," he said.

“Take this card, and you'll get the chance to take your life back or…"

He pointed to the edge of the cliff.

"Jump."

Scarlet wavered, fingers trembling as she took the card from his hand.

The man receded into darkness, his voice cutting through the dark a final time.

“This is a one-time offer, Sinclair. Think carefully. Don't let them win. Take back what's yours. Make them pay.”

He left her there, the card in her hand, a choice to make. 

As her still-shaking hands turned the card over, a chill ran down her spine while thousands of thoughts raced through her mind.

The surface was smooth and cool, black, the edges sharp against her skin.

The only thing inscribed on its surface was a symbol she didn’t recognize, deep and intricate, almost hypnotic. She looked at it, her mind a jumble of confusion and terror.

The stranger’s words hung in the air, not letting her alone.

"Take back what’s yours. Make them pay."

Her jaw went tight, their teeth compressed. A new pulse of rage coursed through her chest, cutting a knife through the sadness that had smothered her for weeks.

How dare he even appear here, on the worst night of her life, and treat her pain like it was somehow a challenge she had thrown at him?

And yet…

Scarlet’s eyes drifted to the city below, its lights twinkling like a thousand stars. She had once loved this view — back when she was on top of the world. 

Now, it mocked her. 

Each shining light felt like a flame mocking her to everyone that had laughed at her downfall, every single person that had turned their back on her.

She could feel the weight of choice in the card, heavier in her hand.