Scarlett’s POV
The lighthouse air was thick with salt and memory.
The tin box lay unopened on my lap as I sat in Charles’s old hideaway. I hadn’t yet found the courage to see what secrets he had buried inside, what pieces of himself he left behind for me to find. But something in me shifted, solidified. I wasn’t the same woman who left the house tonight. The game had changed. And so had I.
I stood slowly, pocketing the box and taking one last look at the ocean, the horizon stretching wide and endless.
Then I turned to leave.
The drive back was a blur of winding roads and quiet streets. It was almost 2 a.m. The city had gone to sleep. But I hadn’t. I was too awake, too aware. My senses were on edge. The silence, heavy. The streets, too empty.
It wasn’t until I reached the outskirts of
