Page 36

Scarlett

I ’m still buzzing from the gallery as I make my way through the crowded streets. Each brushstroke seemed to echo my own exuberant passion, igniting a flame in me that feels like it’d long been dulled by simply living.

Even the murky drizzle around me can’t dampen my spirits.

I can’t wait to get back to the studio, to unleash this energy into something tangible, to see what I can create. In my mind I’m already conjuring up images, each one calling to me, coaxing me to breathe life into them first.

I step onto the curb, narrowly avoiding getting drenched by a humongous puddle as I raise my hand to summon a cab.

As one screeches to a halt in front of me, I get in, glad to be finally taking the weight off my feet. I knew it was a stupid idea to wear these heels, but they matched the rest of my outfit perfectly.

No pain no gain, right?

But my moment of relief is shattered when a man careens into the back seat from the other side.

Taken aback, I snap, “What the fuck are you doing? Get out.”

My heart races, surprise morphing into defensive adrenaline as I prepare to shove him out myself. No bloody way is he stealing my taxi. He can find his own.

That’s when I see his face, and my insides twist with confusion and dread.

It’s Rafe—Alex’s erstwhile younger brother.

I hadn’t expected to see him again, not since the last strained family dinner that simmered with tension thick enough to slice. His presence is an unwelcome reminder of an entanglement I’ve tried carefully to untangle, lurking dangerously close to my frayed edges.

“Scarlett.” His voice is steady, but there’s an unsettling energy radiating from him, infectious and sharp, like static in the air before a storm.

The way he says my name makes it sound like an insult.

Like he can’t even stand pronouncing the syllables.

I guess that feeling’s mutual. He’s a Forster, after all, though I may not show it on my face, I hate every last one of them.

“What are you doing?” I demand, my voice low because I don’t want even the driver to hear our conversation. There’s no warmth in my tone, just the iron chill of my instincts screaming that I need to be cautious, very fucking cautious. One wrong move could fuck this entire thing up.

He also glances at the driver before turning his attention back to me. “Alexander knows. He knows everything.”

Panic sends my heart ricocheting against my ribs. “What do you mean?” I try to sound indifferent, to play it cool but the tremor in my voice gives me away.

“Drop the act, Scarlett. No one’s falling for it anymore.” His dark eyes bore into mine, and it feels like he’s trying to peel away the layers I’ve so carefully constructed.

The smile from the gallery feels worlds away now.

“That’s not possible. He doesn’t know about—” My words are choked off, a suffocating gasp slams my mouth shut on the truth I’m desperately trying to hide.

I need to be smart here. Afterall, this could be a trick. This could be him trying to gain information, to get some sort of leverage.

“Alexander knows exactly who you are. Who your parents are,” Rafe continues, an ominous edge sharpening his voice. “He’s not stupid. And my father… he has a scheme of his own. It’s over. Whatever this is, whatever you had planned, you’re done.”

Each word is a drop of poison, seeping into my veins, swirling panic and dread in equal parts.

“You can’t be serious,” I rasp, my resolve crumbling like a house of cards. “No. No. I’ve come too far to turn back now. Things are in motion; they can’t be undone.”

Rafe leans closer, the cramped space of the cab suddenly feeling like an interrogation chamber.

“It’s a trap, Scarlett. You need to get out while you still can. Run and don’t look back. Alexander and my father are ruthless. You of all people should know that. They won’t stop until they have what they want, and you are right in the middle of it.”

His words ignite a dark fire inside me, a whirlwind of emotions I can’t contain.

I want to scream.

To lash out.

To attempt one last desperate stand against the looming spectre of danger and disaster that already feels like it’s crashing down on me. But instead, the hard seat seems to fall away beneath me. My heart races, and bile creeps up my throat.

If he does know, if he really does, then I’m in so much trouble.

I stare down at my hands, at my feet, trying to come up with some logical plan, some logical next step to all of this. But what is the next step?

When I look back up, Rafe is still there watching me, and I can’t tell if he’s enjoying my discomfort or if he shares the same bitter feelings of defeat.

I know he hates Alex. I know he doesn’t exactly like his father either.

Would he help me? Would he have turned a blind eye to what I was up to if I’d gotten further down my path?

“Are you going to tell me where you want to go or what?” The driver snaps, turning around in his seat to glare at us both.

I open my mouth to argue back but as I do, I see Rafe fling open the door and he’s gone. Fucking vanished. Left like a wraith slipping back into the darkness.

“Miss?” The driver continues, narrowing his eyes.

I shake my head, confusion, fear, panic, I flit between them as I stumble back out of the cab and slam the door shut with every ounce of strength I have.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I pull out my phone, my hands trembling as I navigate the call list to find my brother’s name.

I can’t wait—everything is crumbling so quickly, and I need my anchor, I need him.

“Please,” I mutter at the phone as it rings. Tears spill onto my cheeks; I must look an absolute wreck but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters now.

It’s over. All of this.

“I need your help…” My voice breaks as I state that fact out loud, guilt twisting my stomach for dragging him back into this. “It’s over… it’s all over.” The words crash against the air like a wave that pulls me under, and panic is like the rising tide sweeping me away.

My brother’s voice feels a million miles away, muffled and lost in an ocean of urgency.

I can’t wait for him to respond; I want to drown in his assurances, to hear his strength filter through the line.

But instead of words, all I can manage is a sob that breaks the silence, raw and primal, echoing the dread coiling within me. I’m fucked. So fucking fucked.

“Scarlett?” His voice, laden with concern, cuts through the haze. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“I was at the gallery,” I blurt out, words tumbling out like a waterfall bursting through a dam.

“Rafe, Rafe got in the cab with me and told me that Alex knows everything. All of it.” The confession erupts from my trembling lips, the weight of those words threatening to shatter the last mask of courage I am barely holding onto.

“He knows who I am, who our family is. Everything.”

“Okay, okay, listen to me.” My brother’s voice steadies me, but it still can’t stop the swell of panic that’s taken over. “It’s not that bad.”

“Yes, it is.” I scream. “It is. He knows, Seb. He knows. I have to get out. I have to get out right now.”

He breathes in a sharp breath. “Okay. Can you make it to the pick up point? I can meet you there.”

I swallow hard, nodding even though I know he can’t see me. The pickup point. It’s a relief that we had the foresight to pre-agree a safe place before any of this shit went down. “Yes, yes, I can do that. But ? —”

“Just get moving, Scar. I’ll be there as fast as I can,” he replies.

I hang up, taking a breath to steady myself.

The evening is already giving way to night. Maybe it’s my imagination, but that darkness feels like it’s already creeping into my skin. It’s like the Forster’s are reaching out, ensnaring me in their trap and try as I might, there won’t be any escape.

The maids come.

Fear. Shame. Humiliation.

There are no words to adequately describe the horrific emotions I feel as they flit about, freshening the space, cleaning the bathroom, filling up a bowl of warm water and washing me down like an animal.

I beg them. I plead.

They don’t speak a single word back to me.

Oh, I knew they were complicit. I knew from the beginning, but this proves it. This proves that they’re not hoodwinked into believing some false narrative about me being sick. No, they know the truth. They know what is really going on, and they clearly don’t give a shit.

As one of them places a bowl between my thighs, I tense up. What fresh hell is this?

She glances at my face and at least has the decency to blush as she produces a razor blade and starts shaving my entire genital area.

Christ, I didn’t think this could get any worse, and then it did.

“How long have I been here?” I ask. Surely, they’ll answer that.

The girl between my thighs pauses, glancing at the other one hovering far too fucking close for my liking.

Neither of them speak.

“How long?” I ask again. “Jesus Christ, I barely know my own name, whatever you tell me, I’ll forget it the moment you’ve walked out the door…”

“Four months.” The girl not shaving me says while the other instantly hisses.

Four months. Four fucking months.

“Have I been tied up the entire time?” I don’t know why I ask that question. There’s no real need. Memories have been coming back. Fleeting moments. Flashbacks that seem to fade in and out as the day slowly dissipates around me.

I know my brother is dead. I know that they’re responsible.

I know that Alex has been pretending that I’m sick, telling me that I have some sort of brain damage.

I know that the doctor is in on it, that he’s been granted ‘full-access’ rights to me and has been fucking me while I’ve been drugged up to my eyeballs.

And Rafe - I know he’s involved too. That he chased me through the woods, that he forced me to get on my knees and beg for help before he made me suck him off.

I shut my eyes, fighting the tears as the maid performs her final sweeps with the blade.