SCARLETT
“You really want to know?” he said again, his breath brushing against my cheek. His voice was a tremble now, no longer the cold command it used to be. This was something else—something fragile.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I want to know.”
His eyes searched mine like he was digging through every memory we’d ever shared, every secret, every betrayal. His jaw tightened, like he didn’t want to say it—like he knew once the words came out, there was no going back.
“Tell me,” I said again, louder now. My voice broke. “Why did you do it? Why did you destroy my father’s life? Why did you destroy mine?”
He swallowed hard. His shoulders tensed. And then finally, he said the words that would shatter the last piece of whatever was left of us.
“Because I was obsessed with you.”
Silence.
“What
