Chapter 8

Scarlett's POV

Before the doctor could answer my question, Liam interrupted by clearing his throat. He adjusted the cuff of his suit and looked at the doctor. “I’ll be the next office,” he said casually.

I glared at him, my chest tightening. “Coward,” I spat under my breath, but he didn’t react. His calmness, his control over everything—it was annoying. He didn’t even look at me, didn’t acknowledge my anger. It was like I didn’t matter.

Without another word, he left.

My hands clenched into fists. I wanted to demand he explain why exactly he was doing this—but what was the point? He wouldn’t care.

The doctor adjusted his glasses, his expression calm and professional, like this was just another day at work for him. “Alright, Miss Scarlett,” he began, his voice steady. “We’re going to start with a few basic questions. Just answer honestly.”

I blinked at him, trying to keep my breathing even.

I listened to the hissing sound of the electricity and suddenly got scared. What kind of questions would he ask? What if I answered them wrong? Would the electricity strike me down?

Honestly? What was the point of honesty when the man who owned this mansion twisted reality to fit his own version of the truth?

“Whatever. Can we just get this over with?” I muttered, my voice flat, but inside, my stomach twisted with nerves.

He ignored my tone and began. “What is your name?”

I hesitated for a split second before replying, “Scarlett Wells.”

The machine beeped softly beside me, and the doctor looked at the screen. “Good,” he said. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

Another beep.

The doctor nodded, making a note on his clipboard. “Alright. Where were you born?”

I swallowed hard. “Boston.”

More beeping. He scribbled again.

It felt endless. Name, age, birthplace, parents, school—I answered them all, and the machine hummed along quietly. It was almost calming, in a way, until he moved on to the real questions.

“What were you doing three years ago, Miss Scarlett?” he asked, his tone still casual, like he wasn’t about to pick apart my entire life.

My brow furrowed as I thought back. “I had just started university,” I said. “And I was writing a novel at the time.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “A novel?”

“Yes,” I said quickly, my voice sharpening. “It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.”

He hummed in response, making another note. “Was that all you were doing?”

I blinked, confused. “Yes. Why?”

He didn’t answer directly. Instead, his gaze shifted back to the screen, watching the lines and numbers. “And you’re certain there wasn’t… anything else?”

My chest tightened again, and a cold sweat broke out on my back. “What are you talking about?” I snapped, irritation rising in my voice. “I was studying and writing. That’s it.”

He leaned back slightly, his calm expression unshaken. “I’m just making sure. Were you ever pregnant during that time?”

I froze. The question hit me like a slap, and I stared at him in shock. “What?”

“Were you pregnant three years ago?” he repeated, slower this time, as if I hadn’t understood him.

“No!” I snapped, my voice louder now. “Of course not! Why would you even ask me that?”

The doctor didn’t react to my outburst, his eyes fixed on the machine. The lines on the screen stayed steady, and the beeping remained soft and even. “Interesting,” he murmured to himself, scribbling something down.

“Interesting? What the hell does that mean? I’m telling the truth!”

“I know,” he said simply, not looking at me. “The machine confirms it.”

For a moment, relief washed over me, but it was quickly replaced by anger. “What is all this about?”

The doctor finally looked up, his gaze steady but unsettling. “Your school said that you took a leave of absence during that period and didn't go to class. Also, your classmates all said that you had a chaotic private life and hadn't been to school for a long time. So, what were you doing at home during that time? Were you nurturing your pregnancy? ”

I fell silent.

They had looked into me. Of course they had. Liam probably had files on every breath I had ever taken.

I remembered those gloomy moments during that period. I didn't know why, ever since I went back to school after my part-time job, there were suddenly a lot of rumors about me. They were all gossiping behind my back, calling me a bitch and saying that I was kept by someone. The professor couldn't withstand the pressure from the rumors and called me to his office. He said that I had affected the school's ethos and asked me to drop out of school voluntarily.

I burst into tears. I begged them not to do that. In the end, on the condition of taking a one-year leave of absence from school, I agreed to their demands.

The thought made me sick.

I forced a bitter laugh. “I was holed up at home, working on my novel."

The doctor didn’t answer, but his silence felt accusatory.

From beginning to end, I wasn't attacked by the electric current.

This is enough to prove that everything I said was the truth.

My chest heaved with frustration, and I pulled at the wires. “Are we finished here?”

##########

Liam's POV

I leaned back in my chair, my gaze fixed on the footage playing across the screen. Scarlett sat there, strapped to the bed, her body stiff and her jaw set.

Even in her fear, she was stubborn. Insolent.

The scent of leather and old wood surrounded me, grounding me, yet my mind was anything but calm.

My jaw tightened as I watched her. Every word, every movement was calculated—she thought she could outsmart me.

Scarlett didn’t realize she was playing a dangerous game. One she wouldn’t win.

My eyes stayed glued to the screen, watching as Scarlett tilted her chin, a flicker of pride crossing her face.

There wasn't any fluctuation on the monitoring screen.

I narrowed my eyes, turning back to the screen.

Scarlett’s lips moved again, her answer too soft to hear through the speakers, but the doctor nodded and jotted something down.

The machine still didn’t waver. She was too calm for someone who was supposedly hiding something.

“She’s not doing this on purpose,” I said slowly, though the thought lingered in the back of my mind. “She’s just stupid enough to think she can fight me.”

My eyes stayed on the screen as I leaned against the desk, crossing my arms.

“Scarlett was just a problem that needed to be dealt with.” I said, my voice sharp.