Accidentally Slept with My Ex-Boyfriend's Father의 모든 챕터: 챕터 111 - 챕터 119

Scarlett's POVThe phone was still warm in my hand. Claire's warning echoed in my ears, sharp and venomous. But I wasn't afraid. I was excited.She was scared. That meant I was winning.Helena watched me with those calculating eyes, her fingers steepled under her chin. "You're playing a dangerous game, Scarlett.""I know." I set the phone down on the desk, my movements deliberate. Calm. "But it's the only game worth playing.""And Marcus?" Helena tilted her head. "What's your plan for him?"I leaned back in my chair, letting the leather embrace me. The question hung in the air, heavier than it should have been.Marcus. The man who had loved me. The man who had lied to me. The man who had let his mother destroy me.I remembered his face on the video call. The shock. The confusion. The way his eyes had searched mine, looking for something he couldn't quite name.He knew. Some part of him knew. I had seen it."Marcus is the key," I said slowly. "He's the door to everything. His marriage.

Scarlett's POV"That's quite a coincidence," I said, my voice smooth as silk. "But coincidences happen every day, Mr. Sterling.""Marcus." He leaned forward, his voice softer now. "Please. Call me Marcus. And don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I've spent three years searching for her. Three years wondering what happened.""Mr. Sterling—Marcus—I don't know what you expect me to say." I kept my voice calm, measured. "I'm a businesswoman from France. I've never been to New York. I've never met you before. I'm sorry if I remind you of someone, but I can't be her."He stared at me for a long moment. Then he let out a breath, running a hand through his hair."You're right," he said finally, his voice tired. "I'm sorry. I've been... I haven't been myself lately. The stress of the business, the traveling. I've been seeing ghosts everywhere."I laughed. A soft, amused sound that made him blink in confusion."Ghosts?" I tilted my head, letting a mocking smile curl my lips. "Ho

Scarlett's POVThe morning light crept through the curtains, pale and gray. I had barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Marcus's face—the shock, the anger, the confusion. The way his hands had trembled. The way his voice had cracked.I felt nothing.I sat up in bed, my feet touching the cold floor. The silk of my nightgown whispered against my skin as I walked to the window. London stretched out below me, gray and indifferent. The city didn't care about my revenge. The city didn't care about anything.Good. Neither did I.My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I walked over and picked it up.Unknown number.I stared at the screen for a long moment. Then I answered."Hello?""Scarlett." Marcus's voice came through, rough and tired. "Please don't hang up. I need to talk to you."I said nothing."I know I shouldn't have called. I know I made a fool of myself last night." He paused, and I heard him take a shaky breath. "But I can't stop thinking about you. About what you said. Abou

Scarlett's POVVivienne's eyes narrowed, studying my face with the sharp intensity of a woman who had spent decades reading people. Even now, broken and dying, there was something predatory in her gaze."I don't know you," she said slowly, her voice thin and reedy. "But you... you look familiar. Have we met before?"I softened my expression, letting warmth creep into my smile. "No, Mrs. Sterling. We've never met. I'm Scarlett Moore. I run a photography agency in London.""A photography agency?" She tilted her head, the movement slow and labored. "Why would someone from a photography agency visit me here?""I'm working on a project," I said gently. "A series of portraits of influential women. Your name came up, and I was hoping to discuss the possibility of including you."She laughed, a dry, rattling sound. "Influential women? I'm stuck in this garden, my dear. There's nothing influential about that.""On the contrary." I stepped closer, my voice soft and warm. "The Sterling name stil

Scarlett's POVThe gallery opening was nothing special.Another exhibition of overpriced photographs, another room full of wealthy patrons sipping champagne and pretending to understand art. I had been to a hundred of these events. I would probably go to a hundred more.It was business. Nothing more.I stood near the back of the room, a glass of wine in my hand, my eyes scanning the crowd. Nielsen had told me there would be important contacts here tonight. Potential clients. People who could help expand the agency.I didn't care. But I went through the motions anyway.The room was warm, crowded, loud. Laughter mingled with the clink of glasses. The walls were covered in black and white photographs—landscapes, portraits, abstract compositions that meant nothing to me.I was about to leave when I saw him.He was across the room, near the far wall, half-hidden behind a cluster of guests. An older man, silver-haired, leaning on a cane. His shoulders were slightly stooped, his posture betr