Chapter 21: Bernard’s Call

Scarlet paced the length of her apartment, the echo of Wyatt’s words clanging like a warning bell in her head. The sumptuous walls of Beaumont Manor had never seemed more smothering, more claustrophobic. Inside her chest, a storm whirled while outside the estate settled over like a velvet curtain. She could not get it away from her. Wyatt had looked at her in that manner. The computed curl of his mouth. The cryptic warning hidden under courteous inquiry.

"I want to know what yours is." Knowledge of what? Her fingers shook as she untangled the clasp on her earrings and softly clinked them down on the vanity. Her gown's weight pulled at her limbs now; the heavy silk suddenly intolerable against her skin. Stepping out of the zipper as it slid to the floor, she pulled it down like it were a layer of armor she no longer required. Her mirror reflection returned her naked shoulders, flushed cheeks, eyes wide with the kind of vulnerability she had promised never to display once more. She was thread by thread breaking down. And Tucker? Tucker had watched and stood by. Another time.

The silence of the room was too loud. She grabbed her phone, fingers moving on instinct. There was only one person who knew the pieces of her past intimately enough to see through the games being played now. Bernard Milton. He’d been there for every turning point her father’s collapse, the funeral, the eviction notices, the nights she’d cried until dawn and the days she’d worked twelve-hour shifts just to stay afloat. He had known her before the diamonds, before Tucker’s contract, before the crown of pretend elegance she now wore so well. Her thumb hovered over his name for a breathless moment.

Then she pressed call. The line rang once. Twice. “Scar?” Bernard’s voice came through, slightly crackled but familiar warm, steady, grounding. “Is everything okay?” She swallowed hard. “I’m not sure.” Silence hung for a second on the other end, and she knew he’d picked up on the tension in her voice immediately. “What happened?” Scarlet moved to the balcony, letting the cool night air kiss her skin. The stars blinked above, indifferent to the chaos below. “I need to ask you something. Something… about my father.” Bernard paused. “Scar… what kind of something?” “Did he ever did he ever mention any dealings with Wyatt Lockwood before everything collapsed?” The line was quiet. Too quiet. Her chest tightened. “Bernard?” He exhaled slowly. “Where’s this coming from?” “Just answer me. Please.” There was another pause. Then: “Yes. Once. A meeting. But he never talked about it afterward.

Just said it was a mistake. He looked… scared, Scar. Shaken in a way I’d never seen before.” Scarlet’s pulse quickened. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Because you were grieving. You were barely holding yourself together. And honestly, I didn’t know what it meant. I thought it was just business gone bad. That’s what everyone said.” Scarlet clenched the balcony railing. “It wasn’t just business. Wyatt organized it. I found files. Letters. He buried my father’s company so I’d be forced to leave Tucker.” Bernard was silent again. Then: “That son of a ” “I confronted Tucker. He says he didn’t know.” “And do you believe him?” “I want to. But it’s complicated.” “Scar,” Bernard’s voice dropped, more serious now, “there’s something you need to know.” Her breath caught.

“What?” “Someone came by the flower shop today. Said they would like to purchase the building. They were not, however, inquiring about price or square footage. They were asking about you.” “What?” “A man in a tailored suit. Didn’t leave a name. Asked when you moved out of town, whether you ever returned back to visit. Asked about your family. Your past.” Her mouth went dry. “Did he say who he was?” “No. But he wasn’t casual. He was deliberate. Like someone trying to stitch together a story.” Fear curled like smoke in her stomach. “Bernard… do you think Wyatt sent him?” “I don’t know. But it’s not a coincidence.” Scarlet paced once more, turned away from the balcony. “What else did he ask?” Bernard hesitated. “He asked if you were ever… in trouble.” Her blood ran cold. “What did you say?” “I said no. Because it’s the truth.” Her heart pounded now. “What kind of trouble?” “He didn’t say. Just asked whether you ever disappeared for a while. Said it was for a background check, but it didn’t feel like one.” Scarlet’s mind raced. Background check. Disappeared. The secret she’d buried so deep… the one even Tucker didn’t know. It couldn’t be. “I need you to find out who he was,” she said urgently. “Ask around. Look into the surveillance if you can.” “I will. I promise. Just… be careful, Scar.” "I will". They called off, but her pulse did not calm down. Her bones became even more cold. She once more fixed her gaze on her reflection in the balcony door dark glass.

Though she felt the ground moving under her, the woman staring back at her seemed calm. Her secrets were not as buried as she had believed. And someone was digging. A knock at the door made her jump. She turned, heart thumping. But it wasn’t Tucker’s voice. It was a soft whisper from the other side. “Scarlet.” Gabrielle. Of course. She opened the door a crack. Gabrielle smiled sweetly, eyes gleaming. “You forgot your clutch at dinner.” Scarlet silently adopted it. Gabrielle tilted her head, gaze keen. “Everything alright?” Scarlet stared at her, searching her face for signs any flicker that she knew about the call, the visitor, the file in Tucker’s office. But Gabrielle’s smile remained steady.

Too steady. “Fine,” Scarlet said. Gabrielle lingered. “Funny how the past always finds a way to crawl back, isn’t it?” Scarlet’s stomach dropped. Gabrielle turned, heels clicking softly down the hall. Scarlet shut the door, breathing hard. This wasn’t coincidence. It was war. And her past had just entered the battlefield.