Scarlett’s POV
The first message came just before noon.
My phone lit up where it sat on the dresser, but I didn’t move. I knew that number. I knew the rhythm of the digits like I knew my own breath.
Jasper.
I watched the screen glow until it dimmed again.
Then, almost instantly, it buzzed again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, his name blinked at me like a warning. Like a plea.
I turned it face down.
But that didn’t stop the calls.
Didn’t stop the messages.
First it was simple:
Scarlett, please call me back.
Then desperate:
It’s not what you think. Please, baby. Please.
Then longer:
I don’t even know how she got there. She showed up. I told her to leave. I never… Scarlett, I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me. It was a setup. I swear to you, nothing happened.
Nothing happene
