CHAPTER 3: MY WIFE
1457 Words
The auction house was a sanctuary for the powerful and the ruthless. Tonight, fortunes would change hands over rare art and prized relics, but the real spectacle wasn’t on the auction block. It was at the entrance.
A sleek black car pulled up, its presence commanding attention before the doors even opened. The valet stepped forward as Alexander Knight emerged, exuding effortless power in a tailored black suit. And then, the woman at his side.
Scarlett.
She stepped out with practiced grace, the sparkling silk of her gown hugging her curves in all the right places. The fabric was black, richer than midnight, smoother than sin. Her dark hair fell in soft waves, and her red lips curved in a sweet smile.
The moment she placed her hand on Alexander’s offered arm, the whispers began.
"Is that…?"
"Lucas Sterling’s ex-wife?"
"What is she doing with Alexander Knight?"
Scarlett ignored the murmurs, walking with measured elegance, each step screaming luxury. This wasn’t her first time under scrutiny. The pressure of society’s gaze had once been suffocating, but tonight, she wielded it like a weapon.
Alexander leaned down slightly, his voice a quiet hum near her ear. "Enjoying the attention?"
Scarlett’s lips barely moved as she replied, "I’ve lived in it long enough to know when it’s a trap and when it’s a stage."
His smirk was barely there. "And tonight?"
She let the corner of her lips lift ever so slightly. "Tonight, I choose the stage."
The media didn’t need an official statement. The image of Scarlett, Lucas Sterling’s ex-wife, standing beside his greatest rival was enough.
And as the cameras flashed, capturing the moment for the world to see, Scarlett knew Lucas Sterling would see this, and it would make him madly angry because she knew Alex and Lucas never agreed.
Lucas sat in his private lounge, a glass of whiskey untouched in his grip. His mind was locked onto the screen in front of him.
The image was everywhere.
Scarlett.
Standing beside Alexander Knight.
His rival.
His jaw clenched as he zoomed in, his fingers tightening around the glass. The way she stood, her hand resting so effortlessly on Alexander’s arm, made an inner heat burn inside him.
"What the hell is she doing with him?"
He had expected her to fade into nothingness after walking away, to be buried under the weight of her own pride. Instead, she was there, standing beside the one-man Lucas hated most.
A slow breath hissed through his teeth.
His phone buzzed. Another message.
Did you see this?
Your ex-wife is making headlines with Knight.
Lucas, what the hell is going on?
He tossed the phone onto the table, ignoring the messages. His mind was already working through the implications.
This wasn’t just a coincidence.
Alexander Knight didn’t do anything without reason. If he had brought Scarlett to the auction, it meant something.
And Lucas intended to find out exactly what that was.
He drained the whiskey in one swallow, the burn doing nothing to cool the fury burning beneath his skin.
Scarlett had walked away from him, and now, she was standing in his world again.
"Let's see how long this goes on," he said.
"What's my next schedule?" he asked his assistant standing nearby.
"The gala event will be at 7:00 PM. And from my sources, Alexander Knight will be there, which means there's every probability of Scarlett being there."
Scarlett knew she was being watched the moment she stepped into the grand ballroom. The stares settled on her, but she barely acknowledged them. She had prepared for this—the murmurs, the speculation, and their curiosity.
What she hadn’t prepared for was Lucas Sterling.
She felt his presence before she saw him, a prickle along the back of her neck. Then, from across the room, their eyes met.
For a second, the world around them blurred.
Lucas stood near the bar, his tailored black suit fitting him perfectly. The sharp angles of his face were unchanged. His gaze landed on Scarlett, and they both looked at each other for a couple of minutes before breaking eye contact.
Scarlett forced herself to keep moving, her grip tightening around her champagne glass. She had no reason to speak to him. No reason to acknowledge his presence.
But Lucas had other plans.
She had barely made it past the dance floor when a strong hand closed around her wrist.
"Scarlett," his voice was low, smooth, and edged with something darker.
She exhaled sharply, turning to face him. "Let go, Lucas."
He didn’t. Instead, he stepped closer, his grip firm but not painful, just enough to remind her that he had always been the man who took her in every way he wanted.
"You’ve been busy," he murmured, his gaze shining over her. "Or should I say… you've had a man in your sights all this while?"
Scarlett refused to flinch. "I don’t owe you an explanation."
Lucas smirked, a slow, knowing curve of his lips. "No? "Then why are you running?"
"I'm not running," she said coldly, trying to pull her wrist free.
But Lucas wasn’t done with her yet.
Scarlett barely had time to react before Lucas moved. One moment, she was stepping away, and the next, her back slammed against the pillar. A sharp breath left her lips as his body pressed in close, trapping her between him and the pillar.
Her heart raced against her ribs, the music and chatter of the gala fading into a dull noise. The world around them blurred, but the man in front of her—who was now her past, her mistake, and her ruin—was starkly, painfully clear.
She clenched her jaw. “Move, Lucas.”
He didn’t.
His gaze roamed over her, taking in every inch of the woman standing before him. But there was no warmth in his eyes. No remorse.
His fingers found her wrist, sliding upward until his hand wrapped around hers. With a single movement, he pinned them above her head. A breath caught in her throat as his other hand found her waist, fingers pressing into the silk of her dress, burning through the fabric like fire against her skin.
“I never took you for the type to play games, Scarlett,” he murmured, his voice low, edged with something unreadable.
She inhaled sharply, forcing steel into her spine. “And I never took you for the type to care who I spend my time with. We’re divorced, remember?”
Lucas’s smirk was razor-sharp. “Oh, I remember.” His grip tightened slightly. I remember the way you walked away, like it meant nothing. Like I meant nothing.”
Scarlett swallowed past the sudden tightness in her throat. “You don’t get to rewrite history. I left because you destroyed everything we had.”
Something flickered in his expression. A crack in the armor. But then, it was gone.
“And now you’re standing beside Alexander Knight,” he continued, his voice smooth, taunting. Tell me, Scarlett, how long have you had a man waiting in the shadows? "Did you run to him the moment you left our bed?”
Scarlett’s nails dug into her palms. Fury coiled in her chest.
“You think this is about you?” She forced a bitter laugh. “You think I spent the last six months plotting how to hurt you? I don’t need to. You do that well enough on your own.”
Lucas’s smirk faltered. Just slightly.
He leaned in, his breath brushing against her ear, and her pulse stuttered despite her fury.
“Then why are you here?” he asked softly. “Why are you still chasing ghosts?”
Scarlett clenched her jaw, refusing to let the ache creep into her voice. “I’m not chasing anything. I moved on.”
Lucas’s lips curved, slow, knowing. “Then why are your hands shaking?”
Damn him.
Scarlett forced herself to meet his gaze, to hold it despite the storm raging inside her. “Let me go.”
Lucas exhaled, but he didn’t move. His thumb brushed against the inside of her wrist, his touch so light, infuriatingly familiar, it made something sharp twist in her chest.
“You don’t even like it when I hold you?” he murmured, his voice dangerously soft.
Scarlett hated the way her body reacted, the way her breath hitched, the way old wounds reopened with nothing but the weight of his presence.
She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remember every betrayal, every lie.
“Lucas—”
The sound of footsteps cut through the tension like a blade.
And then, another voice. Low. Cold. Lethal.
“Get your filthy hands off my wife.”
- Writer
