Chapter 2

Scarlett's POV

"Fake?" I repeated, the word tasting like ash in my mouth.

"Yes, Scarlett. Those papers you signed at that Vegas chapel? Nelson never filed them with the federal registry. It was all a show. And... there's something else," Marcus added, his voice dropping to a hesitant whisper.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. "Tell me."

"Exactly a week ago, Nelson officially registered a marriage at City Hall." A heavy, suffocating pause followed. "The name under 'Spouse' is Ivy Reed."

Boom. The words detonated in my brain like a flashbang, leaving nothing but a high-pitched ring.

I wasn't his wife. Legally, I didn't mean shit. I was nothing but a dirty little secret—a plaything he kept stashed away in his manor while he played house with someone else.

"Understood." I hung up. My hands were shaking, but my mind had never been clearer.

Three hours later, I arrived at the manor.

At eleven o'clock, the front door finally groaned open. Nelson walked in.

Seeing me sitting on the living room sofa, a flicker of surprise crossed his face before he smoothed it over with a look of bored nonchalance.

"Still throwing a tantrum about the clinic?" He reached out, his fingers aiming to stroke my cheek. "Come on, Scarlett. You have to let a man have a little variety."

I jerked my head back, dodging his touch as if it were a blow.

His hand froze in midair, his dark brows snapping together instantly.

"Variety?" I looked up, my eyes locking onto the man I had loved for a decade with a newfound coldness. "What about City Hall last week? Was that just for 'variety,' too?"

Nelson's pupils contracted sharply. The panic lasted for a heartbeat before it morphed into a dismissive scoff.

He leaned back against the sofa and leisurely lit a cigar,. "Since you already know, there's no point in playing games."

"So, not only did you humiliate me by making me play pretend-wife for two years... you actually had the balls to legally marry her?" I clenched my fists so tight my nails drew blood from my palms.

"So what if the papers are fake?" Nelson's voice rose, thick with entitled rage. "You still live in this mansion! You still enjoy the endless wealth my name provides! What more do you want?"

I stared at him—at that undeniably handsome, utterly twisted face. It made me physically sick. He hadn't just betrayed me; he genuinely believed he was doing me a favor by letting me stay.

"You disgust me." I stood up, unable to breathe the same air as him for another second. I headed straight for the guest room on the second floor. The thought of our master bed—the place where we used to whisper promises—made my stomach churn.

I slammed the guest room door and locked it.

But barely three seconds passed before—

Crash!

The door splintered as Nelson violently kicked it in.

"Scarlett! Who the fuck gave you the right to give me attitude?!" He lunged, grabbing my wrist and hurling me onto the bed with bone-jarring force.

"Ah!" I gasped as I hit the mattress.

As I scrambled to push myself up, my palm brushed against something silky and ice-cold.

I looked down. It was a pair of black lace thongs. Tiny, vulgar, and reeking of the unmistakable, cloying scent of sex.

We never used this room. There was only one explanation: he had brought Ivy here, into our home, and they had sex like animals in heat on this very bed.

"Don't touch me!" The moment Nelson reached for me, I snapped. I summoned every ounce of my strength and slapped him across the face.

The force jerked his head to the side. A thin trail of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

"If you've touched her, don't you ever fucking touch me again." I was trembling from head to toe, pointing at the discarded lace. "Nelson, you make me feel filthy!"

"Filthy?" That single word ignited a murderous fury in his eyes. He pinned me to the mattress, his hand clamping around my throat like a vice.

"You have the goddamn nerve to talk to me about being filthy, Scarlett?" He leaned in, his hot, tobacco-stained breath hitting my face.

"You were under house arrest at Sebastian's for a whole year! You think I'm a fool?!" he spat. "That man is the most powerful Godfather in the country. You belonged to him for three hundred and sixty-five days, and you're going to look me in the eye and say he never laid a hand on you? What right do you have to judge me?!"

"Get off me!" I fought him, clawing and kicking, but against his predatory strength, my struggles were pathetic.

"Shut up! You're mine for the rest of your life!"

Then, without a shred of tenderness or foreplay, he forced himself into me in the most brutal, degrading way possible.

I stopped fighting. I lay there like a broken porcelain doll. The harsh overhead light burned my eyes, but I didn't shed another tear. My soul had gone somewhere else.

I don't know how much time passed before the agonizing humiliation finally ended.

Nelson pulled his clothes together and stood over me. For a fleeting second, a glint of regret or perhaps lingering affection flashed in his eyes, but he quickly masked it with ice.

"Be a good girl, Scarlett. In a year, once Ivy has the baby, I'll come back to the family. We'll go back to how things were."

The logic was so delusional it was almost funny.

He turned on his heel and walked out, leaving the door swinging on its broken hinges.

With agonizing effort, I dragged myself to the bathroom. I turned the shower to the coldest setting, letting the freezing water numb my battered skin.

When I stepped out, I didn't touch the diamonds or the designer clothes he'd bought me.

Instead, I reached into the back of a drawer and pulled out a classified satellite phone I'd kept hidden for three years—the kind issued only to elite medical operatives.

I punched in a number etched into my memory.

"This is the International Red Cross Covert Support Center. Identify yourself," a voice answered in crisp, formal French.

"This is Dr. Scarlett Cole. Doctors Without Borders, operative ID: M-9034," I replied, my French flawless and hollow. "I'm requesting immediate deployment to the Middle Eastern conflict zone. Put me on the first transport out."

"Dr. Cole, that zone is extremely volatile. Once you're in, no American authority can intervene. You'll be beyond anyone's reach," the operator warned.

"I know." That was the point. It was the one place Nelson's power couldn't reach.

"I'm ready. Get me out of here."