CHAPTER 2: WALKING AWAY
1160 Words
Lucas stared at her for a long moment, his gaze hard.
"Fine," he muttered before walking out, leaving her standing in the center of their broken life.
Scarlett exhaled, staring at the ring one last time. This time, she wasn’t going back. She was free.
Or so she thought.
Six months later, freedom felt like an empty apartment with peeling walls and a fridge that barely had anything in it. It felt like unpaid bills stacked on her desk and a silence so loud it pressed into her bones.
She sat on the edge of her bed, rubbing her temples. The city buzzed outside, but here, everything was still. Too still.
Her phone vibrated on the nightstand. Private Number.
She let it ring.
It could be a reporter. Maybe Lucas. Maybe another lawyer is trying to convince her to take what was rightfully hers.
Scarlett had walked away from everything—money, security, the Sterling name. It would’ve been easy to fight for her share, but she refused to be just another ex-wife living off settlements.
Pride. Maybe it would be the thing that destroyed her.
She pushed to her feet and moved to the kitchen. She opened the fridge. Two eggs, a half-empty bottle of water, and a takeout box she wasn’t sure was still good.
Her stomach twisted, but she closed the door.
Scarlett pulled out an old leather notebook from the bottom of a locked drawer.
Lucas always thought she was too naive, too trusting. But she had learned to listen. To remember.
She flipped through the pages, past forgotten sketches and notes—until she found it.
A name. A bank account. An address.
The pieces had always been there, scattered in conversations, in the locked drawers of his study, in the late-night calls he thought she had never heard.
Back then, she hadn’t been looking for secrets. But now, secrets were all she had.
Lucas Sterling wasn’t just a business executive—he was something worse. And if she could prove it, she wouldn’t just take him down.
She’d destroy him.
Two days later, a black envelope was slipped under her apartment door.
No name. No sender.
Scarlett hesitated before picking it up, her pulse tightening as she tore it open. Inside, a single card:
Knight Foundation Charity Gala. 8 PM. The Ritz.
Her stomach twisted.
The Knight Foundation wasn’t just a charity. It was power—silent, relentless, always watching. They didn’t send invitations. They summoned.
But it wasn’t the name that sent a chill through her. It was the note scrawled at the bottom.
I know what you want, Scarlett. Come find me.
Her fingers tightened around the card.
No one knew where she lived. No one was supposed to know.
By the time the car pulled up to the Ritz, doubt gnawed at her.
She stepped out, smoothing the fabric of her black dress—a piece from another life, when she belonged in places like this. The security guard's gaze flickered over her but said nothing, letting her pass.
Inside, the ballroom pulsed with quiet power.
Men in suits are worth more than most people made in a year. Women draped in silk, their laughter soft, measured. Conversations slipped between walls, spoken in a language only the powerful understood.
Scarlett lifted a champagne glass from a passing tray, her fingers cool against the delicate stem. She didn’t drink. She never did at these events. But it gave her something to hold, something to do as she searched the room.
He was here.
She felt him before she saw him.
A presence. Cold. Commanding.
Alexander Knight stood near the far end of the ballroom, deep in conversation with a senator whose name never left the headlines.
He didn’t need to command attention. It was given.
His suit fit perfectly, the black fabric a sharp contrast against his skin. But it was the way he carried himself—controlled, effortlessly—that made him dangerous. A scar cut along his jaw, a reminder that power like his didn’t come without cost.
And then, as if he had been waiting for her, he looked up.
Their eyes met.
Scarlett’s breath stalled.
As she asked herself, the real question was—what did he want from me?
An hour passed before he approached her.
"You came." His voice was low, smooth—like velvet over steel.
Scarlett turned slowly, meeting his gaze. Up close, he was even more imposing. His sharp features, the way his suit fit like a second skin, the control that clung to him like armor. But it was his eyes that unsettled her—dark, unreadable, like they had already unraveled every secret she had ever tried to bury.
"I’m not sure why."
A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Because you’re not finished, Scarlett. Not yet."
Her fingers tightened around her glass.
"Why did you send for me?”
The amusement in his face faded. “Because you want revenge, and I can give you that."
Scarlett inhaled sharply.
Alexander’s gaze darkened. Or even destruction.
He leaned in slightly, his voice brushing against her ear.
"Lucas Sterling took everything from you. I’m offering you the chance to take it back… and burn what’s left to the ground."
Scarlett’s pulse was steady, but inside, something twisted.
"What’s the catch?" Alexander’s lips curved. Slow. Dangerous.
"You become mine."
She should have said no.
Instead, she found herself slipping into the backseat of a black car. The ride was silent.
The penthouse was just as she expected—sleek, modern, and cold. Like the man who owned it.
Alexander poured two glasses of whiskey, setting one in front of her before taking his seat across the room. He studied her like she was another deal to be made, another puzzle to be solved.
"Why do you choose me as your ally?" Scarlett asked, breaking the silence.
Alexander leaned against the glass, his back to the city that stretched endlessly below them.
"Because you know Lucas better than anyone. His weaknesses. His pride. His habits."
Scarlett swallowed hard.
"And what do you get out of this?"
For a moment, something flickered in his expression. Something raw.
"Lucas Sterling ruined someone I loved." His voice was steady, but underneath it, she heard the fracture.
Scarlett’s smirked.
By the time the sun rose, the deal was made.
Scarlett would play the perfect fiancée—by Alexander’s side for one year at every event, in every headline. Together, they would dismantle Lucas’s empire piece by piece.
She stared at the contract, the ink still drying where she had signed her name.
The weight of her choice settled on her. It was cold and final
There was no turning back.
Alexander watched her carefully, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass.
She had no idea how long he had been waiting for this.
His smirk was barely there.
She doesn’t know yet.
Hmmm.
He smirked.
- Writer
