登入Scarlett's POVThe gallery opening was nothing special.Another exhibition of overpriced photographs, another room full of wealthy patrons sipping champagne and pretending to understand art. I had been to a hundred of these events. I would probably go to a hundred more.It was business. Nothing more.I stood near the back of the room, a glass of wine in my hand, my eyes scanning the crowd. Nielsen had told me there would be important contacts here tonight. Potential clients. People who could help expand the agency.I didn't care. But I went through the motions anyway.The room was warm, crowded, loud. Laughter mingled with the clink of glasses. The walls were covered in black and white photographs—landscapes, portraits, abstract compositions that meant nothing to me.I was about to leave when I saw him.He was across the room, near the far wall, half-hidden behind a cluster of guests. An older man, silver-haired, leaning on a cane. His shoulders were slightly stooped, his posture betr
Scarlett's POVVivienne's eyes narrowed, studying my face with the sharp intensity of a woman who had spent decades reading people. Even now, broken and dying, there was something predatory in her gaze."I don't know you," she said slowly, her voice thin and reedy. "But you... you look familiar. Have we met before?"I kept my smile in place, calm and pleasant. "No, Mrs. Sterling. We've never met. I'm Scarlett Moore. I run a photography agency in London.""A photography agency?" She tilted her head, the movement slow and labored. "Why would someone from a photography agency visit me here?""I'm working on a project," I said smoothly. "A series of portraits of influential women. Your name came up, and I was hoping to discuss the possibility of including you."She laughed, a dry, rattling sound. "Influential women? I'm dying in a garden, my dear. There's nothing influential about that.""On the contrary." I stepped closer, my hands clasped behind my back. "The Sterling name still carries
Scarlett's POVVivienne's eyes narrowed, studying my face with the sharp intensity of a woman who had spent decades reading people. Even now, broken and dying, there was something predatory in her gaze."I don't know you," she said slowly, her voice thin and reedy. "But you... you look familiar. Have we met before?"I softened my expression, letting warmth creep into my smile. "No, Mrs. Sterling. We've never met. I'm Scarlett Moore. I run a photography agency in London.""A photography agency?" She tilted her head, the movement slow and labored. "Why would someone from a photography agency visit me here?""I'm working on a project," I said gently. "A series of portraits of influential women. Your name came up, and I was hoping to discuss the possibility of including you."She laughed, a dry, rattling sound. "Influential women? I'm stuck in this garden, my dear. There's nothing influential about that.""On the contrary." I stepped closer, my voice soft and warm. "The Sterling name stil
Scarlett's POVThe restaurant was small and intimate, tucked away in a quiet corner of London. My father had chosen it himself—a place he used to visit with my mother, back when they were young and in love.I watched him from across the table as he studied the menu, his weathered fingers tracing the words with careful precision. He looked tired today. More tired than usual. The disease was taking its toll, eating away at him slowly but steadily.But when he looked up and smiled at me, I saw the same light in his eyes that had been there since the day we met. The same love. The same pride."You look beautiful, my dear," he said. "That color suits you."I glanced down at my burgundy blouse, then back up at him. "Thank you, Father. You look well."He laughed, a dry, rasping sound. "Liar. I look like death warmed over. But I appreciate the sentiment."I reached across the table and took his hand. "You're still here. That's all that matters."He squeezed my fingers gently. "And I plan to s
Scarlett's POVThe morning light crept through the curtains, pale and gray. I had barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Marcus's face—the shock, the anger, the confusion. The way his hands had trembled. The way his voice had cracked.I felt nothing.I sat up in bed, my feet touching the cold floor. The silk of my nightgown whispered against my skin as I walked to the window. London stretched out below me, gray and indifferent. The city didn't care about my revenge. The city didn't care about anything.Good. Neither did I.My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I walked over and picked it up.Unknown number.I stared at the screen for a long moment. Then I answered."Hello?""Scarlett." Marcus's voice came through, rough and tired. "Please don't hang up. I need to talk to you."I said nothing."I know I shouldn't have called. I know I made a fool of myself last night." He paused, and I heard him take a shaky breath. "But I can't stop thinking about you. About what you said. Abou
Scarlett's POV"I said shut up!" Marcus was on his feet now, towering over me. His face was flushed with anger, his hands trembling at his sides. "You don't get to talk about her. You don't get to talk about any of it. Who the hell do you think you are?"I remained seated, completely still. I let the silence stretch, let his anger hang in the air between us. The entire restaurant was watching now. Whispering. Staring. Judging.I didn't care.Slowly, deliberately, I picked up my wine glass. Took a sip. Set it down with a soft clink against the white tablecloth.Then I looked up at him. My eyes were cold. Empty. Unimpressed."I think," I said, my voice low and calm, "that you're making a scene, Mr. Sterling. And it's quite unbecoming of a man of your... stature."He stared at me, breathing heavily. "You—""Sit down." My voice was flat, commanding. "Sit down and compose yourself. You're embarrassing yourself."He didn't move. His fists were still clenched, his jaw tight."I said sit down
Emily's POVHis hand remained firm on my waist, preventing me from sinking completely into the mud.The rain streamed down my face, my hair, the dress that now felt as heavy as lead on my body. But I couldn't look away from his eyes. Dark. Intense. As if he could read inside me just by staring.Ano
Emily's POVThe air in the café felt strange, heavy. Like the oxygen had run out all at once.Arthur didn't move. He remained standing, his gaze still fixed on Sebastian's hand that was still touching my face. You could see the muscle in his jaw twitching, locked, but the rest of his body was a sta
Emily's POV The open suitcase on the bed seemed like a reflection of the state of my mind. Crumpled clothes, shoes thrown in haphazardly, the camera case tossed in a corner.I shoved everything in without looking, without folding, without thinking. I just needed to leave that country. That place.
Emily’s POV "Simple. For one night, we're nobody. I don't know your name. You don't know mine. And tomorrow, if we run into each other on the street, we don't know each other.""You're crazy." I said."Maybe." He set his glass on the table. "But at least I'm an honest crazy person. Unlike the trai







