Chapter 5

SCARLETT

I walked for ten blocks before finding a small, open diner where I used a borrowed charging cable to call Nora.

Now waiting for her to pick me up, the wait was agonizing.

Carter was splattered across my mind.

I can't stop thinking about last night. How he fucking seduced me and pushed me away.

And you know the most infuriating part about it is that he sent me away that cold freaking night after going through the trouble of taking me to his home.

He didn't even allow me to start the night, at least. I was left standing on the curb outside his million-dollar building with a bruised shoulder, a half-dislocated hip, and an ache between my legs. He hadn't even given me the courtesy of waiting for the sun to rise. The second he regained control—the second he shoved me off his lap—he was back to being Alpha Blackwood: ruthless, cold, and utterly dismissive.

I stared into my lukewarm coffee, still wearing the massive, ridiculously expensive bathrobe he'd thrown at me before tossing me out, though I’d belted it tightly to look less insane.

The whole encounter was a chaotic blur of contradictions:

He was a monster who humiliated me in the driveway.

He was a protector who saved me from the thugs.

He was a medic who treated my injuries with surprising gentleness.

He was an animal who kissed me like the world was ending, only to reject me like trash moments later.

And the urge... Goddess, the urge was the worst. That uncontrollable need that made me grind against him like some desperate fool. I was still vibrating with it. It was like I had been briefly hijacked by something foreign. Was that his Alpha power? Or was I just that broken by Caleb?

"Scarlett!" Nora yelled, bringing me back to reality. "Are you gonna tell me what the hell happened? Or you're just gonna look into that coffee like the world is ending. You look like you wrestled a washing machine and won. And now you've caught PTSD."

She looked me up and down, zeroing in on the bruises on my neck and the massive bathrobe.

Classic Nora

Conjuring three different sentences together as one.

I let out a shaky breath, feeling the dam of exhaustion finally break.

“It's Carter Blackwood.”

Nora's jaw dropped.

"And you dared to drink my free coffee without backing it up with the gist!"

I sighed, dropped her coffee, and started stripping off Blackwood's jacket, folding it neatly on the arm of the sofa—it felt wrong to crush something so perfect. Then I collapsed into a pile of blankets, ignoring Nora.

And of course, she was right behind me, hands on her hips like my grandma.

"Come on."

I rolled my eyes, half-heartedly recounting my experiences to her.

"And he just shoved you?" Nora stared at me, wide-eyed. "After that... 'make-out session'?"

"He didn't shove me hard," I muttered sarcastically, rubbing my shoulder. "Just... with utter Alpha coldness. He basically threw me out like I was a broken vending machine."

Nora paced the room like a caged panther. "Scarlet. Think, you idiot. That wasn't a rejection."

"It was more of a control move. He got horny then ashamed and brutally took control of the situation."

"No!" She stopped, pointing at the jacket on the sofa. "He gave you his coat. He took you away from those thugs! He kissed you so hard you look like you just got out of a boxing ring! He knows who you are—"

A sharp rap on the apartment door interrupted her.

I exchanged a confused look with Nora. She checked the peephole and frowned.

"Two enormous guys in black suits," she whispered. "They look like they guard the Federal Reserve."

She cautiously opened the door, and the two men—faceless, perfectly groomed—simply gestured to a beat-up suitcase sitting on the welcome mat.

My suitcase.

"Delivery for Ms. Scarlett Wells," the lead guard stated robotically. "Compliments of Mr. Blackwood."

"Fuck him!" That came out before I could stop it, and Nora pinched my arse in response.

They bowed anyway, ignoring my comment, and were gone.

Nora stared at the suitcase, then at the jacket, then at me. "See? He knows. He tracked you, found your last known address, and sent his personal guards to deliver your poverty baggage. He is obsessed."

Poverty baggage? Is she roasting me?

Nora dropped the suitcase dramatically. "This is it. This is your chance. You want revenge on Caleb for ruining your life? You steal a new valuable asset: Alpha Carter Blackwood. Seduce him, Scarlett. Make Caleb watch you walk right up the corporate ladder."

The temptation was sweet. To hit Calebwhere it hurt—by sleeping with his new brother-in-law?

Delicious.

Yeah, the so-called Selene is the Alpha's younger sister.

I shook my head. "That's a good idea, Nora, but no. Carter is a power play. I need real money. I need severance. I need a job. Grandmother's dialysis starts next week. I can't play games with a billionaire Alpha when I'm one missed payment away from her getting kicked out of the program."

"But he is the money, Scarlett!"

"He’s not guaranteed," I countered. "My severance pay, however, is legally owed to me."

~~~~~~~

The next morning, armed with a carefully researched binder of labor laws, I took the train back to Blackwood corp. I was going to collect what was mine.

Anyhow.

I walked into the HR department and demanded to speak to the manager about my termination package.

The meeting room was white and suffocating.

"Ms. Wells," the HR manager, a woman named Ms. Evans, said coolly. "You are not eligible for severance. Your termination was for cause."

"For fabricated cause," I corrected, slamming my binder on the table. "You know Caleb fabricated that misconduct claim."

Ms. Evans didn't even flinch. "We don't deal in hearsay, Ms. Wells. We deal in evidence."

Framed.

She slid a tablet across the table. The screen showed an email, sent from my Corp account to a client, containing a clearly erroneous financial calculation that would have cost the company millions. The date stamp was correct. The sender was me.

What the hell!

"This is forged," I said, staring at the screen. The mistake was sloppy, amateurish. Something I would never have done.

"And yet," Ms. Evans said, "it came from your terminal, Ms. Wells."

The door opened, and Diane—one of the three Mean Girls I’d insulted in the driveway—walked in, carrying a folder. She gave me a wide, smug smile.

"I'm here to confirm the timeline of Ms. Wells's gross negligence," Diane chirped, sitting down.

Caleb hadn't just gotten me fired. He had perfectly framed me with corporate negligence and bribed a witness to seal the deal.

Diane, of all people.

I was completely cornered. I wouldn't just lose severance; I could be sued.

I stood up, pushing back my chair so hard it scraped across the floor. My hands were shaking, and for the first time since yesterday, the fear was back—cold, suffocating, and real.

I had zero money, zero legal recourse, and a dying grandmother.

Diane's smug face, Caleb's proposal, Carter's arrogance... they all merged into one image of the powerful elite, all laughing at me.

"Fine," I breathed, picking up Carter's jacket from the seat next to me.

I brought it along with me; I don't know why.

I marched out of HR, past the baffled receptionists, and headed straight for the section of the building reserved for the Blackwood family's top executives.

I knew exactly where I was going. I knew the only person who could crush Caleb and fix this mess. And he worked on the top floor.

He wanted a fight? He wanted control?

I stormed toward the elevator marked 'BLACKWOOD PRIVATE ACCESS ONLY,' my heart pounding against my ribs.

Goddess, help me.