Revenge of the Billionaire's Dead Fiance

Chapter 12

Scarlet

The door opened with a sharp click. Two men in black uniforms stepped inside, broad-shouldered, their faces set in stone.

Serafina didn’t even glance at them. She just pointed at me, her blouse still wet with coffee. “Get her out. Now.”

One of them moved closer. “Ma’am—”

“Don’t ma’am me. You heard me,” she snapped, her voice slicing through the air.

My throat tightened, but I forced myself to stand tall. My voice came out steadier than I felt. “Don’t touch me.”

Both men froze for a second, glancing at each other. They weren’t sure how far they could go—especially with me being Lysander’s PA.

I stepped forward, my eyes locked on Serafina. “You don’t have the authority to fire me. And you sure as hell don’t have the authority to throw me out of this office.”

Her jaw clenched, fury twisting across her face. “Don’t test me, Scarlett.”

I ignored her, turning my gaze on the guards. “You lay a hand on me, and you’ll be the ones answering to your real boss. And we all know exactly who that is.”

For a beat, silence filled the room. I could hear Serafina’s breathing—sharp, furious—like she wanted to rip the words out of my mouth.

The men shifted uncomfortably. One finally cleared his throat. “We’ll… confirm with Mr. Lysander before taking any action.”

Serafina’s face drained of color, then flushed red. “Cowards,” she hissed under her breath.

I almost smiled, but I kept my expression neutral. My pulse hammered in my ears, but I didn’t move until the guards stepped back toward the door.

“Miss Scarlett,” one of them said carefully, “we’ll wait outside. Just… keep things professional, please.”

When the door closed behind them, the silence left in their wake was heavy, suffocating.

Serafina’s eyes burned into me, her voice low and venomous. “You think you’ve won? This isn’t over.”

I didn’t answer. I just stood there, breathing in, breathing out, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break.

Seraphina’s hands flew across the desk, sweeping papers, her phone, her bag into a jumbled mess. She shoved everything inside, muttering curses under her breath.

“This is ridiculous,” she spat, her voice sharp with rage. “Lysander’s a fool. A damn fool. Hiring someone like you—incompetent, careless, useless.”

My jaw tightened, but I kept my face blank. Inside, my thoughts seethed. Incompetent? You have no idea who you’re dealing with. If only you knew the real me—the sister you thought was dead.

She zipped her bag with a violent tug, her heels clicking as she pushed away from the desk. “What am I even doing here?” she snapped, shoving the chair back with a loud scrape.

Then she strode toward me, slamming her shoulder against mine as she passed. The sharp edge of her perfume filled my nose—sweet, cloying, suffocating.

“Pathetic little nobody,” she hissed, spitting the words like venom. “Enjoy this job while it lasts, because trust me—you won’t survive here.”

Her heels clicked furiously against the floor as she stormed out, her insults trailing behind her like smoke. The door slammed, rattling the frame.

I stood still for a moment, letting the silence settle. My chest rose and fell as I exhaled slowly.

Then, carefully, I turned back toward the desk.

The office was mine, if only for a few stolen minutes.

I moved quickly, tugging open the drawers, rifling through folders and files. Contracts, financial reports, correspondence—layer upon layer of Lysander’s empire laid bare before me.

I flipped through them with practiced speed, scanning names, signatures, seals. Nothing. Nothing. Then—

I paused. A file thick with sealed letters, stamped confidential. My pulse skipped.

Pulling out my phone, I angled the pages beneath the light and snapped quick photos, one after another. I didn’t even stop to read—time wasn’t on my side.

When I was done, I slid everything back exactly where I found it, smoothing the edges, shutting the drawer softly.

Straightening my blouse, I slipped my phone back into my bag and walked calmly out of the office.

Back at my office, I had barely settled into my chair when my phone started buzzing across the desk. Lysander’s name lit up the screen.

I straightened, cleared my throat, and answered. “Yes, sir?”

His voice came through low, a little rougher than usual. “Scarlett, I sent you my address. Check your messages. We’ll be working from home for the rest of the week. I’m not strong enough to come in yet.”

My stomach tightened. Working from his house? That was the last thing I wanted. Still, I couldn’t exactly refuse. “Yes, sir. I’ll be there shortly,” I said, trying to keep my tone steady.

“Good,” he murmured, and the line went dead.

A few minutes later, I was pulling into the long driveway of Lysander’s mansion. The place was massive, the kind of estate that could swallow an entire neighborhood. Tall gates had opened silently for me, and now the house rose in front of me like something out of a magazine—white stone walls, wide glass windows reflecting the late morning sun, and neatly trimmed hedges framing the path.

I parked and stepped out, smoothing my blouse as I walked up to the door. It opened before I could knock. A middle-aged man in a crisp black suit greeted me with a polite bow.

“Good morning, Miss. You must be Mr. Lysander’s assistant.”

“Yes,” I said softly, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. “Scarlett.”

He nodded. “I’m Edmund, the butler. Mr. Lysander is expecting you. Please, come in.”

The cool air inside smelled faintly of lemon polish and something warm from the kitchen. The floors gleamed, and everything about the place screamed wealth and precision.

I followed Edmund down the wide hallway, my heels tapping against the marble. I was about to ask where to put my things when I heard the quick patter of small footsteps.

Before I could react, a little boy darted into the hall and threw his arms around me.

I gasped, startled, looking down. A child clung to me, smiling up with the brightest green eyes I’d ever seen. Eyes that stopped me cold.

Green. Clear, sharp, familiar—like staring into a reflection I didn’t understand.

“Uh—hello,” I managed, my heart stumbling in my chest.

He just grinned wider, holding onto me like he’d known me forever. His hair was dark, a little messy, and his smile was so genuine it pulled something loose inside me.

Our eyes locked, and for a moment, the world around me blurred. A strange heat rushed through me. Recognition? No. It couldn’t be. But still… he felt familiar. Too familiar.

I swallowed hard, unable to move.

“Well,” a voice said from behind us, breaking the spell.

I looked up. Lysander was descending the grand staircase, dressed simply in a gray shirt and dark trousers, but the way he carried himself was impossible to ignore. He had a faint smile on his lips, softer than usual.

“I see you’ve met Leo,” he said, walking toward us.

The boy pulled back just enough to beam up at him.

Lysander ruffled his son’s hair, then glanced at me. “Scarlett, this is my son, Leonardo. Leo, this is Miss Scarlett. She’s my PA.”

I forced a smile, my chest still tight as I whispered, “Hello, Leo.”

The boy grinned at me again, those green eyes shining—and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew him somehow.