Chapter Two

~Stefan~

Charlotte Ortega grabs the pen with a steady hand and signs the contract.

She may have the same face as Scarlett, but they are different. I can feel the intensity radiating from her.

Scarlett has never been that way. She was gentle like a cool river, with soft eyes and an open laugh. She felt like fucking spring. No matter how much I hate her now, she was once my peace.

My heart twists in a very unfamiliar way.

Is this what heartbreak feels like?

I resist the urge to rub my chest as if it would bring me relief.

Why would Scarlett do this to me?

I gave her everything.

I even loved her!

“I'm done,” Charlotte announces, her voice flat, almost dead, her hazel eyes empty.

She drops the pen and straightens. Something about Charlotte has always felt wrong to me. The way she lurks in the background, her posture rigid, never speaking, always watching, with a personality as dead as her eyes, even her red hair seems dull and faded. It feels like she's a dark shadow to Scarlett's light.

Now here she is pretending to be a light. Judy had warned me that she might do this. At his insistence, I had my lawyer draft a marriage contract.

Two days before my wedding, she shows up dressed like she's attending a funeral, willing to take her sister's place. I’m curious to know how she'll pull off being Scarlett for a year when she's a lifeless thing.

Her hovering mother clears her throat.

“Everything is back on track.” She sounds too happy for the heavy atmosphere.

My fists clench as the urge to wring her neck seizes me.

The woman had some nerve asking for money.

After receiving Scarlett's letter, I nearly lost my mind. I called and called, drove around the city like a maniac, and made Judy worry about me for the first time.

She's lucky I don't put all of them in prison and throw away the key.

I stare at the contract with a tight-lipped frown.

“Are you sure about this, Stefan?” My mother whispers.

No, I'm not. But I need a wife if I want to run for Senate. I need a stable façade.

I sign my name on the dotted line wordlessly. Charlotte is watching me when I raise my gaze. In the soft afternoon light, I almost see my Scarlett.

But she blinks, and the illusion fades.

My face darkens, and I close the contract.

Another shot of pain darts across my chest. Pain at how I let myself be deceived by a woman, pain at my anger and stupid hurt, pain that a part of me still wants Scarlett.

Maybe she had a good reason to lie about being pregnant.

Maybe she pissed off the wrong people and had to run.

There has to be something.

When I find her—

“We'll be leaving now.” The greedy woman says, her smile spreading like oil.

“Get out already!” my mother hisses, but her words lack venom now. The contract has been signed, and there's nothing she can do.

===

I meet Judy in my office, pouring himself a glass of scotch. As head of my security and best friend since college, he has assigned himself the authority to come and go in my office as he pleases.

Normally, I didn't mind but today something about his presence and his cocky grin makes me irritated.

“I was waiting for you. How'd it go? Did she sign?”

I had dropped off the contract with my secretary, who forwarded it to my lawyer.

“Yes, she did.”

Judy laughs. “I fucking told you. Did she read the fine print?”

I drop into my chair and lean back, flipping open the file on my desk. My eyes skim over the requirements and qualifications I need to run for senator. Money. Politician. Powerful support. A stable family image.

I had no reason to worry about the clause. Three days ago, I thought I would be a father and marry a woman I loved. It took a simple letter and a hospital result slip for everything to crumble.

Both are resting inside my suit pocket, like an anchor dragging me down.

“Stefan?” Judy's irritating voice cuts through my thoughts.

I hum in response, absently flipping the file shut.

“Did Charlotte read the fucking fine print?” He stresses the words.

“Where's the dossier, Judy?”

My annoyance is starting to grow. I don't have to answer to him or anyone.

He sighs, gulps down the scotch, and hands me a dossier, filled with photos, names, background checks. Everyone the Ortega twins have been in contact with for the past year.

“Anything interesting?” I ask, flipping to the pictures of Scarlett.

“Nothing on the surface, but they're some of Scarlett’s friends I want to look into. I marked them,” Judy says, pouring another glass. “Charlotte, on the other hand, has nothing. She works in a design firm. Small place with a boss who likes her. Keeps to herself. Lives alone in a shoebox apartment in Brooklyn and visits her mother every weekend without fail.”

I scoff. Good girl indeed. “Any boyfriends?”

He hesitates. I catch it.

“Judy.”

“There was someone. Off and on. A Bartender. She broke it off last month.”

“Good.”

I'd hate for my new wife to have strings with some guy who might complicate things later.

I return my attention to the picture of Scarlett. Her mesmerising voice. Those big, light hazel eyes. The way her kisses could mend the broken parts.

I want to hate her.

I should hate her.

Every night I stand on my balcony and wish she were here so I can scream at her, pour out my anger and pain, and maybe strangle her.

But hate is just the other side of obsession.

And I never let anything go.

“What will you do when you find her?” Handing me a glass of scotch, Judy studies my dark expression.

The question has no simple answer. I settle on the only one I can voice aloud. “Hope I don't kill her.”

Judy shakes his head, a bitter smile on his face. Then, like a broken record, but quietly this time, he asks, “Did Charlotte read the fine print? Does she have any idea what she signed?”

I shrug. “I gave her the option to read the contract. She didn't take it.” I close the dossier and pick up the scotch.

The amber liquid slides down my throat with a familiar burn. It's almost refreshing.

Judy runs a hand through his sandy brown hair, then blows out a heavy breath. “Fuck.”

“I'll give her a copy when she requests it.” There's not a single shred of remorse in my body for what I've done.

Businessmen always protect themselves in the fine print, and I'm not different.

She should've read the fucking contract.

Nobody toys with Stefan Reimann.