Chapter 2

When Scarlett returned to the Getty Mansion, she was almost frozen.

The vast villa was pitch black. Motion sensors lit up as she entered, illuminating the coldness of the room.

She didn't turn on the lights, and walked up to the first floor, barefoot and step by step, by the dim light of the entrance hall.

In the master bedroom, Thaddeus's crisp scent still lingered. The bed was perfectly made without a single wrinkle—just like him, always meticulous and always without warmth.

Scarlett threw herself heavily onto the cold bedding, covering her head with a pillow, trying to block out the heartbreaking scene from the press conference that haunted her mind.

After some time, just as she was drifting off, thinking she would spend another night alone, she heard a car engine shut off downstairs.

Thaddeus was back?

This realization made Scarlett's heart contract sharply.

She didn't want to face Thaddeus.

Yet there was a despicable, humble expectation within her—one she despised herself for—that made her sit up anyway.

Scarlett walked out of the bedroom and stood in the second-floor hallway, looking down from the shadow of the railing.

The living room lights were on.

Thaddeus walked in, took off his suit jacket, and casually draped it over the sofa.

Behind him followed a petite figure.

It was Lavinia.

Scarlett watched as Thaddeus poured Lavinia a cup of hot cocoa, handed it to her, and spoke with a gentleness he had never shown Scarlett.

"Are reporters still outside your house?"

Wearing that moon-white formal dress, Lavinia's face was pale. She nodded weakly, her voice trembling with tears, "I'm afraid to go home, Thaddeus. Am I causing you trouble?"

"It's fine," Thaddeus's voice was deep, carrying a reassuring power. "You can stay here tonight."

Stay here.

Scarlett could bear it no longer.

She emerged from the shadows and descended the stairs step by step, her bare feet making sounds on the wooden floor.

Both people in the living room looked up simultaneously.

When Thaddeus saw her, the last trace of warmth vanished from his face, replaced by his usual coldness and impatience.

Lavinia, like a startled deer, instinctively hid behind Thaddeus.

"Thaddeus," Scarlett approached them, her voice hoarse from extreme restraint, "you're letting her stay here?"

"She's not safe alone."

"Scarlett, don't misunderstand."

Lavinia peeked out from behind Thaddeus, on the verge of tears, considerately saying, "I... I'll just sleep in the guest room. I'll leave at dawn, I won't disturb you two."

Scarlett looked at the scene before her—Thaddeus's matter-of-fact protection, Lavinia's flawless performance.

She felt like she was the outsider who didn't belong.

She wanted to shout and scream, to rush forward and tear off Lavinia's hypocritical mask.

But in the end, she merely tugged at the corners of her mouth, revealing a smile more painful than tears.

She didn't even have the right to question them.

Thaddeus looked at Scarlett as if she were an annoyance who had ruined his good time.

At that moment, the last delusional hope of love in her heart was completely extinguished.

She was tired, and worn out..

Scarlett didn't say another word. The color drained from her face, and she felt that even looking at the two of them would soil her eyes.

Her only thought now was to leave this suffocating place.

She silently walked toward the foyer, preparing to leave.

Just as her hand was about to touch the doorknob, a tearful voice came from behind, and a hand grabbed her arm.

It was Lavinia.

She had rushed after her, eyes red, as if she had suffered a terrible injustice.

"Scarlett, don't go. It's all my fault. Don't blame Thaddeus—if you must blame someone, blame me."

Lavinia's fingers were cold, but her grip was surprisingly strong, firmly clamping around Scarlett's arm.

Scarlett felt physically nauseated.

She tried to shake off Lavinia's hand in disgust.

But in the instant she pulled away, Lavinia seemed pushed by some great force. With a short, startled cry, she staggered backward uncontrollably and fell onto the floor!

Her fall was perfectly timed.

Her body crashed right into the sharp crystal floor lamp in the living room.

With a loud crash, the lamp base tilted, and Lavinia's wrist was immediately cut by the protruding metal decoration on the lamp base!

Blood instantly gushed out.

"Lavinia!"

Thaddeus's pupils contracted sharply. Without even seeing clearly what had happened, his body moved before his mind could process it. He rushed over and carefully cradled Lavinia in his arms.

When he saw the blood flowing from her wrist, the raging fury in his eyes nearly incinerated Scarlett where she stood.

"Scarlett, have you lost your mind?"

Thaddeus looked up while holding Lavinia, his angry roar making the entire villa shake.

Scarlett's mind went blank.

She looked into Thaddeus' eyes, which seemed ready to devour her alive, and opened her mouth, but could not make any sound.

It wasn't her.

She hadn't pushed Lavinia at all.

But her defense, against the backdrop of the scene before her, seemed so pale and powerless.

Lavinia weakly leaned in Thaddeus's arms, eyes brimming with tears, yet still "kindly" defending Scarlett.

"Thaddeus, don't blame Scarlett. She didn't mean it."

"She just... she just loves you too much."

This light "defense" completely ignited all of Thaddeus's fury.

He carefully pressed a handkerchief against Lavinia's wound. When he looked up at Scarlett again, his eyes held only extreme disgust and contempt.

"I've always wondered," he began, his voice not loud but colder than the winter wind outside, "how you managed to voice Luna with such pure tones."

Thaddeus let out a soft sneer, his lips curling into a mocking smile.

"Now I understand."

"It was all an act."

As those words fell, Scarlett felt something inside her heart shatter completely.

She saw Thaddeus's lips still moving.

He said, "Scarlett, you disgust me."

At that moment, Scarlett felt as if all the world's sounds had disappeared.

She couldn't hear Lavinia's suppressed crying, nor any of Thaddeus's subsequent words.

She just looked at this man she had loved for twenty years, who was now using the cruelest words to trample both her character and her soul into the mud.

So she wasn't just a joke.

She was something disgusting.

She didn't want to engage anymore. She turned around, maintaining her last shred of dignity, and walked out the door.

Only when the cold air filled her lungs did Scarlett belatedly realize: When heartache reached its extreme, you couldn't even feel the pain.

She walked aimlessly along the driveway outside the villa. The icy wind cut through her thin formal dress, but she couldn't feel the cold.

Just then, a sharp, almost convulsive cramping pain suddenly shot through her lower abdomen!

Scarlett let out a muffled groan of pain. Her vision darkened, and her body went limp, involuntarily grasping the cold iron railing beside her.

What was happening?

This sudden, intense pain was like an awl, instantly piercing through her numb senses.

With trembling hands, she tried to take out her phone from her bag to call her best friend, Clea Turner.

But she was completely drained of strength. Her hand slipped, and the phone fell to the ground.