Scarlet Lies

Chapter 15: Behind Closed Doors

The sun barely peeked through the tall windows of Elena's office as she stood over her sketch table, surrounded by fabrics, mood boards, and designs pinned up like battle plans.

The international fashion event was only weeks away, and her schedule was relentless. From model fittings to final adjustments on gowns, she was in the throes of her most ambitious collection yet—a tribute to her father, and a declaration of her independence.

She barely noticed the world outside anymore.

Which was exactly how Levi liked it.

Levi had become her reliable presence—never overstepping, never dramatic, always there with a coffee or a meal when she needed it. Her team adored him. Even her secretary had once whispered, “He’s your calm in the storm, isn’t he?” Elena had only smiled, her hands still threading a hem. She didn’t think about it too deeply. Not yet.

But Levi had secrets.

Beneath his carefully composed demeanor, he was waging a quiet war. And the enemy was Callum.

The moment he heard Callum was back in the city, Levi knew it was only a matter of time before he tried to contact her. He didn’t trust Callum—not with her heart, not with her vulnerability. Levi had been there, watching the fallout, helping her gather the pieces. He refused to let her fall apart again. Not for a man who had vanished.

It started subtly.

The first message arrived through her public business email—a short line: “Can we have a coffee in another downtown, I want to explain.” Signed, simply, C. Levi deleted it.

The next attempt was a call. Elena’s secretary, bless her distracted heart, assumed it was a supplier and put it through to Levi’s line by mistake. “This is Callum. Please, I just need a few minutes with Elena. I’m not asking for forgiveness—just a chance to speak.”

Levi’s jaw clenched.

“I’ll deliver the message,” he said tightly, then hung up.

He didn’t deliver the message.

Instead, he bribed the receptionist with tickets to an exclusive art show to make sure Callum’s name never made it onto the visitor log. He manipulated Elena’s digital calendar, rescheduling any unrecognized appointment requests. And when a hand-written letter arrived, Levi saw it first. It was simple. Raw. A line of poetry from the same poem Elena once read aloud after her father’s funeral.

“Perhaps we only meet once in a life, and some loves are meant to be left unspoiled.”

He burned it.

Callum, meanwhile, was growing desperate. He didn’t want to intrude. He just wanted the truth to have a place in her life. But every attempt was met with silence. Had she really moved on? Had she really given up on everything they once almost had?

Levi, on the other hand, began to feel the cracks in his armor. Guilt gnawed at him. Not because he thought he was doing wrong—but because Elena’s silence was starting to feel like a lie she didn’t choose. He didn’t like the way her eyes sometimes drifted to the window as if waiting. Or how she paused when someone knocked, and then dismissed it with a small, bitter smile.

Then that happened when he appears but only fight broke up.

“Just my imagination,” she said once.

Still, Levi kept her isolated. Protected.

He brought her lunch every afternoon. Thai noodles on Wednesday. Her favorite lemon tart on Friday. Each time, she gave him a soft, grateful smile. He basked in those smiles, told himself he was earning them. That he was her future, if not yet her present.

Until one afternoon, she noticed something.

“You look tired,” she said, fingers brushing his wrist as he handed her an iced latte. “Rough night?”

He hesitated. “Just… handling loose ends.”

But her eyes narrowed. “What kind of loose ends?”

Before he could answer, her secretary walked in with a stack of press kits—and the truth.

“Oh, Ms. Elena, I forgot to tell you! Someone’s been trying to reach you for weeks. Callum, I think? He kept calling and asking to meet. I told Levi about it, so I thought maybe you already knew?”

The silence in the room was deafening.

Elena’s expression darkened as she turned to Levi. “Is that true?”

Levi didn’t answer right away. He looked down. “He said he just wanted to talk. I didn’t think it mattered anymore.”

“Not your choice,” she said quietly. “It was mine.”

Levi opened his mouth, but she held up her hand. “I trusted you.”

And with that, she walked out.

That evening, Elena sat in her apartment, the windows wide open to the summer air. The city pulsed below, alive and indifferent. She stared at her phone, thinking about all the messages she hadn’t received. All the silences that weren’t silence at all.

She was angry—furious, even. Not because Levi cared. But because he decided he knew what was best. Again.

First Callum. Now Levi.

The men in her life kept making choices for her.

And she was done with it.

Her phone buzzed.

A new email. No name. Just an address: Rookwood Café. Tomorrow. Noon.

She stared at it, then closed the laptop.

The decision was hers this time.

But for some reason a new project appear and she didn't make it in the at cafe.