Chapter 3

Scarlett's POV

The next day, my examination room door didn’t just open—it hit the wall with a crack.

Ivy strutted in, hips swaying like she owned the floor.

"What's wrong, Dr. Cole? Still reeling from last night?"

She marched to my desk and began idly toying with my stethoscope.

I snapped my laptop shut, my expression deadpan. "If you’re here for an appointment, turn left and register at the front desk. If not, take your entourage and get the hell out of my office."

Instead of leaving, Ivy sank into the chair across from me. "Of course I'm here for a follow-up."

She leaned forward, hooked a finger into her collar, and pulled it down. Her skin was a canvas of dark, angry hickeys blooming across her neck and collarbone.

"Nelson is insatiable," she purred. "Practically an animal."

She gave a coy little giggle, but her eyes remained locked on mine.

"Are you finished?" I stared her down. "If you’re done, leave."

"Drop the high-and-mighty act!" Ivy slammed her palm onto the desk. "You think you’re still the untouchable Mafia Madame? You’re nothing but trash waiting for the curb!"

She leaned in closer, punctuating every word. "Do you know what Nelson says about you when you aren’t around?"

I didn't give her the satisfaction of a response. I just watched the show.

"He says that every time he remembers you stayed in Sebastian's manor for a year, it makes him physically sick to his stomach."

I stood up, planting my hands on the desk and looming over her. "Ivy, do you honestly believe a marriage certificate makes you the Lady of the Pierce family?"

Ivy’s smile faltered. She instinctively recoiled an inch. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're pitifully naive. In this world, power belongs to the men with the guns and the territory. Women? We’re bargaining chips. Breeding stock."

I leveled my gaze at her stomach. "Nelson married you for the novelty. You’re a tool, Ivy. And tools are replaced the moment they lose their edge."

"Shut up!" she shrieked, the mask finally slipping.

"If you don’t produce a pure-blooded heir, you’ll be worth less than a stray dog," I said, delivering the final blow. "So stop barking at me like a bitch guarding scraps. Your 'legal status' doesn't mean a damn thing to me."

"Scarlett! You bitch!" Ivy grabbed the metal instrument tray and hurled it at my head.

I ducked, and calmly pressed the security buzzer under my desk. "Escort this woman out. She’s disturbed."

Ivy was still screaming profanities down the hallway as the guards hauled her away. I pulled out an antiseptic wipe and cleaned my hands, leafing through the motions as if I’d just touched something rotting.

At eight o’clock that night, I finished my final post-op handover. The moment I stepped into the alley behind the hospital, a shadow detached itself from the dumpsters.

"Scarlett!"

The stench of cheap cigars and stale bourbon hit me before he did. It was my father, Patrick Cole—a bottom-feeder who had spent his life scavenging for scraps in the lower ranks of the Syndicate.

"What are you doing here?" I backed away, my brow furrowing in disgust.

"How did you piss off Nelson?" Patrick demanded. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands shaking. "This afternoon, his men cut my shares in three casinos! What kind of stupid shit did you pull?"

He lunged forward and grabbed my arm.

"Let go of me," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous low.

"Let go? My money is gone!" Patrick roared. "You’re his woman! Go back there, strip down, crawl into his bed, and do whatever it takes to fix this! Get my shares back!"

"He married Ivy Reed," I said flatly. "And I’m done."

Patrick blanched. "What? You can't be!"

"It's over, Patrick."

"You can't leave! Stay in the manor—be his mistress if you have to! Just get pregnant with his child—"

"Patrick, there is no more 'us'." I cut through his delusion without mercy.

"Don't you dare walk away! You think I won't go straight to Nelson?" he bellowed at my back.

I didn't turn around. I walked straight to my car. Let him go to Nelson. I had nothing left for either of them to take.

At eleven o'clock, I pushed open the grand double doors of the Pierce manor.

The house was ablaze with light. A group of terrified maids were scurrying upstairs, arms laden with designer shoeboxes and silk gowns.

Nelson was sprawled on the sofa, Ivy nestled against his chest. She was busy barking orders.

"Throw out the linens in the master bedroom! I want brand-new silk. I won't sleep on anything used."

As the door groaned shut, they both looked up. A flash of triumph gleamed in Ivy’s eyes. Nelson exhaled a slow, thick plume of cigar smoke, his gaze pinning me like a specimen under a microscope.

He was waiting for the explosion. He wanted the screaming, the jealousy, the tears—anything to prove he still held a leash on my heart.

I met his eyes. Not a single eyelash flickered.

"Ivy says she doesn't like the light in the guest room," Nelson said, breaking the silence. "She’s moving into the master suite today. You don't mind, do you?"

He watched me hungrily, searching for a crack in the armor.

I just nodded. "Of course. It’s your house."

My tone was as bored as if we were discussing the grocery list. "Once the maids are finished, I’ll pack my things and get out of your way."

I didn't wait for a reaction. I headed for the stairs.

In a remote guest room on the third floor, I yanked a black duffel bag from the wardrobe. I packed light: a few changes of clothes and my medical license. That was all I needed.

Suddenly, the door was kicked open.

Nelson stormed in, radiating a cold, explosive violence. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?"

He snatched the bag from my hands and hurled it across the room.

"Packing. Making room for your wife." I bent down to retrieve it.

Nelson seized my wrist, slamming me back against the wardrobe doors with enough force to rattle the wood. "Scarlett, what kind of sick game is this? You want to play hard-to-get now?"

"I’m not playing," I said, my voice like dry ice. "You’re a married man, Nelson. What exactly is my role supposed to be if I stay?"

"You think you can just walk away? Where are you going? Back to Sebastian?"

"Let go of me!" I struggled against his iron grip, but he pinned me tighter.

"You think it’s that easy to leave me?" Nelson let out a chilling sneer, his eyes turning dark and predatory.