The Move
845 Words
"It’s a fresh start, Scarlett. For both of us."
My mother was glowing. She sat across from me in our cramped apartment, clutching a glass of expensive champagne that looked out of place next to our chipped IKEA plates.
"His name is Marcus Reed," she continued, her eyes wide with a manic kind of hope. "He’s brilliant, he’s wealthy, and he wants to take care of us. No more struggling for roles to pay the rent. No more debt."
The name Reed hit me like a physical blow. My fork clattered against the table.
"Reed?" I whispered. "As in... Reed Technologies?"
"Yes! He’s a visionary. And Scarlett, he has a son your age. He said you two might even know each other from school."
I couldn't breathe. My mother knew Roman and I had dated, but she had always treated it like a "teenage phase." She didn't know that Roman Reed was the reason I woke up screaming in the middle of the night for a year. She didn't know he was the reason I didn't trust a soul in Hollywood.
"Mom, you can't marry him," I said, my voice trembling.
"I already did," she said softly, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. Her grip was like a vice. "We signed the papers this morning. The movers are coming tomorrow. We’re moving into the Malibu estate, Scarlett. It’s done."
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The Malibu estate didn't look like a home. It looked like a fortress built of white marble and cold glass.
As the car pulled through the iron gates, I felt like a prisoner being led to her cell. My mother was busy reapplying her lipstick, checking her reflection in her compact. She was already becoming a "Reed"—polished, expensive, and fake.
"Remember," she cautioned as we pulled up to the front steps. "Marcus has a reputation to uphold. No drama. Be the sweet, grateful daughter."
"I'm an actress, Mom. I'm used to playing parts," I said bitterly.
The front doors were opened by a man in a suit. We stepped into the foyer, and the sheer scale of the place made me feel small. The ceilings were forty feet high. Everything smelled like lilies and lemon polish.
"Lydia! Scarlett! Welcome home," Marcus Reed’s voice boomed from the grand staircase.
He looked exactly like he did three years ago—sharp, calculating, and cold. He descended the stairs and kissed my mother’s cheek. Then he turned to me, his eyes raking over my face.
"Scarlett. You've grown up. You look... exactly like the star the studios promised you'd be."
"Thank you, Marcus," I said, the words feeling like ash in my mouth.
"Roman!" Marcus called out, looking toward the dark hallway. "Come greet your new sister."
The sound of heavy boots on the marble floor made my heart stop. I knew that rhythm. I knew the weight of those steps.
Roman stepped into the light.
He was taller. His shoulders were broader, and the boyish softness in his face had been replaced by hard, jagged angles. He was wearing a black leather jacket and a look of pure, unadulterated loathing.
He stopped three feet away from me. He didn't offer a hand. He didn't smile.
"Roman," Marcus said, his voice warning. "Say hello to Scarlett."
Roman’s eyes locked onto mine. The gray in them was darker now, like a storm that had been brewing for centuries. He looked at me with so much hate that I actually took a step back.
"Hello, Scarlett," he drawled. He didn't say 'sister.' He said my name like it was a curse. "I see you’re still wearing that 'innocent' look. Does it ever get tiring?"
"Roman, that’s enough," Marcus snapped.
"It’s fine," I said, my voice shaking. "I'm tired from the move. I’d like to see my room."
"I'll show her," Roman volunteered suddenly. His voice was a low growl.
Before I could protest, Marcus nodded, pleased. "Good. Bond a little. We’re all family now."
Roman turned and started up the stairs. I followed him, my legs feeling like lead. As soon as we reached the second-floor landing, out of sight of our parents, he spun around and pinned me against the wall.
His hand hit the wallpaper next to my head with a loud thud.
"What are you doing here, Scarlett?" he hissed, leaning in so close I could smell the peppermint on his breath. "Did you run out of money? Or did your mom decide to sell you to the highest bidder?"
"I didn't know it was you!" I whispered, trying to push him away. "I didn't know he was your father!"
"Liar," he spat. He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear, sending a terrifying shiver down my spine. "You’re in my house now, Red. In my world. And I promise you... I’m going to make you wish you’d never come back."
He pulled away, his eyes lingering on my mouth for a second too long, before he turned and walked away, leaving me shaking in the hallway of my new 'home.'
- Writer
