Chapter 31: Tucker POV

And you believe you have been living alone? He moved nearer, his body towering above hers. "Every night I watched you negotiate this house like a ghost I could not touch. Every day I saw you negotiate obligation with bitterness. You despise me, as I know. Scarlet's throat constricted. "I have no hate of you." But neither do you love me. He retreated, a sour laugh breaking free. She spoke softly, saying, "You're incorrect." No, he answered, voice like glass underfoot. You hardly even know what love is. The hands of Scar clenched into fists. You do? "I knew what it was," he said coldly. Five years in past. Before you ripped it off me.

Between them, the quiet pulsed like an open wound. Tucker then moved quickly to grab the desk drawer, wrenched it open, and pulled out the neat contract they had signed the marriage deal on. The eyes of Scarlet opened widely. "Tucker, avoid," He raised it. Was this what you had always wanted? He uttered. "Protection. Property. Position." "That is not accurate." He ripped it down right in middle. The sound filled the space like thunder. Not once more. Once again. till the fragments strewn at her feet like dead leaves. You want freedom? he asked, his voice cracking for the first time. "Take it." She saw the ripped pages, her chest heaving.

Tucker motionless now, respiration laboured, misery etched every line of his face. "You're free," he said. "No," Scarlet said. "I'm crushed." His mouth opened to show flexibility. We're even then. She raised her head to him, something blazing behind her eyes. "Why are you acting in this way? "Because I don’s know how to maintain you without destroying myself." And I am not sure how to love you without drowning in what we were. Now the rain slammed the glass more forcefully, racing down the windows in wild rivers. One finds a storm under the glass. A mirror reflecting the turmoil inside. Tucker turned aside, toward the door. But he was stopped just before he opened it. Three strong raps. He began opening it. Then stopped. Wyatt Lockwood was standing on the other side. Slick hair.

Charcoal coat. Eyes full of something worse than mere entertainment expectation. "Well," he answered with a seamless flow. Still blaming the wrong guy, son? Scarlet sensed the planet tilt once more. And this time, no storm outside could fit the one exploding within these walls. Silence felt for a moment more weight than thunder. Every muscle in Tucker's body clenched firmly as he fixed his gaze on the man standing in his doorway. Scarlet followed him; her breath stopped in her chest, her skin crawling at the sight of Wyatt Lockwood the man whose presence felt less like a father and more like a ticking bomb just entering the room.

Wyatt was also quite quiet. His salt-and-pepper hair brushed to sleek perfection while his coat glistened slightly from the rain. Apart from the shadows in his eyes, those icy, merciless orbs that never softened, only measured, were not out of line about him. Tucker remarked, voice strained, "You've come at a bad moment." Wyatt still entered anyhow. He brushed past him and added, "I'd argue it's the right time." It was seamless. "I was wondering when this tiny fairytale will break through." The spine of Scarlet became rigid. "Why do you find yourself here? Wyatt turned to her and gave her a smile devoid of eye contact.

"To remind you both that there are always strings attached even if you think you are in charge." With his shoulders straight like a wall separating her and his father, Tucker closed the door behind him. "This is no longer your business." "Oh, Tucker," Wyatt said, drawing slowly. "My business always has been this.

You simply neglected. "I'm not your puppet.". Not yes. But you still have the strings I handed you, gaze darting toward Scar. Among those strings is one that is fraying. Scarlet moved forward, shaking with fury. "You can't come here and talk like you haven't wrecked everything around you." Wyatt's grin stayed the same. "Scarlet, you have been really busy. Searching among areas you shouldn't be in. Examining sealed tombs for a specific purpose. "I am looking for the truth." You already think you have it, he remarked with a shrug. "That little notebook your mother produced? Hugging. Still, naive. "It was real," she said, snapping. He remarked coolly, "It was her version of genuine. She never knew the game she was engaged in.

Tucker's voice thundered across the space. "You made use of her. You attacked her. You annihilated her family. Wyatt sighed and turned toward him. Still here, administering my empire under my name, you are. "I created this. "With the basis I handed you." You poison it. Wyatt shot, "I shielded it." "From weakness." From sentiments. From—distractions. His eyes once more rested on Scarlet. Tucker moved toward his father, the air between them charged with resentment. "You gave me hope she left me out of self-serving motives. You worked on every piece on the board. And it worked, Wyatt remarked simply. You turned out just what I needed. You shattered me. "I gave you sharpening." Tucker's hands locked together. Scarlet broke through the quiet. "Why??" Wyatt cast a glance at her. "Why did you wish to split us apart?" Her voice trembles as she asks. Wyatt stood still.

And for the first time something colder than control sparked in his gaze. Similar to hate. "Because you were not supposed to be a part of the Beaumont legacy," he continued. "Because your mother ought to have kept invisible. Because I won have the bloodline I created soiled by relics of the past. The breath of Scarlet caught. "Your loved her." Before she could stop them, the words came out. Wyatt's eyes turned black. "You became totally fixated on her." Wyatt moved towards her. "Don't confuse strength with lack in interest." "You were looking for her. And you degraded her when you couldn have her.

Tucker's breath came to a stop. Scarlet continued not stopping. "You damaged everything since she turned down you." Wyatt's voice sank to a whisper. "You should exercise caution with the stories you tell yourself." True, though, is what it is. Tucker said, his voice sounding like gravel. You tried to control me since you could not control her. You lied to me. Made your weapon out of me. And you held yourself rather naturally. Tucker shoved by way of the fireplace, passed him. He knuckles white as he holds the mantel. Then scarlet came first. Tell him everything, she urged gently. Tell him what you mentioned that day I left. Wyatt studied her then turned to Tucker. There is nothing left to say. The voice of Scar broke off. You put my parents under peril.

You threatened me. I turned away to keep them safe. Tucker started to turn. "You what?." Tears sparkle in Scarlet's eyes. "He offered me a choice: watch my family fall apart or take a vacation. He started damaging everything, including finances, my father's company, deals. My mother pleaded with me to call it off. I did thus. Tucker met her like she had hit him. "I thought you didn't love me," he answered hesitantly. You just walked away, I thought. "I never stopped loving you," she said softly. "I just didn't know how to stay without breaking everything." You ought to have told me. Tucker, I was nineteen years old. I hesitated. A laugh from Wyatt broke the silence. And you have now told him everything. And what benefits has it produced? Tucker went to his father, voice unvarnished. Leave. "I do not accept orders." "Get out!" he cried. Wyatt fixed his coat then gazed at him a beat longer. You will come to regret turning against me. "No," Tucker responded coldly. I will regret ever having believed in you. Wyatt went, door closing behind him like a coffin lid.

Silence then ensued. Scarlet moved forward. Tucker "Tucker" He turned away. "Don't.," Please. He turned and went to the window. Rain poured on the window. His voice sounded scratchy. You ought to have told me. She extended her hand to him. "I was unsure how." "You did not believe me." I was trying to shield you. He turned, hollow voice, eyes broken. "And now I'm not sure whether anything remains to guard." Scarlet fixed his gaze on him. His barriers were back in place. But these days they were cracked. And behind them something delicate bled. Not once had the rain stopped. It arrived now in sheets, unrelenting, as though the heavens had lost control. The grounds of the estate were a jumble of glittering stone and changing shadows beyond the great windows. Inside, silence pressed against the walls of Tucker’s study like an unwelcome guest. Scarlet stood at the threshold, her fingers trembling against the doorframe. He hadn’t spoken to her in hours not since Wyatt had walked out, not since she’d finally told him the truth.

She had watched his face crumble without breaking. No screaming. No accusations. Just the kind of stillness that felt like the edge of a cliff, right before the fall. Now she could see him through the sliver of the open door, alone in the faint light, slouched in the leather armchair by the fire. One knee spread out, one hand dangling limply over the armrest, a glass of untouched whiskey on the table beside him. He looked like a man drowning softly. She pulled the door open wider and stepped in. Tucker didn’t move. His shirt was rumpled, the first two buttons undone. His tie lay lying on the floor. His eyes were directed toward the flames, reflecting a brightness that flickered across the hollowed lines of his face. Scarlet stepped closer, her heels clicking slightly on the stone floor.

He passed her by not looking. She added gently, "I wasn't lying." He said nothing. "I wanted not to be apart from you. Back then, I hardly wanted to breathe without you. But he forced me to pick. Tucker answered at last, voice low and gravelly: "I know." "I listened to you the first time. Stopped next to him, she debated whether to sit or stand. Then why do you appear like everything's still breaking? Though he laughed softly, there was no fun in it. "Because it is," said. Sitting across from him was her Tell me, really. He raised a slow glance. His eyes now were more damaged than they had been less enraged. His own storm had not passed. It had just evolved in form. "I developed everything I am on one belief," he remarked. "That you choose to walk away." She bit. "And now," he said, "I see that belief was cultivated by a man I've spent my whole life attempting to please.

A man who split my heart in order to create his own version of myself. "Tucker.." He slanted back, his head on the chair. "Do you know what it's like to build your whole identity around retribution? Since it's the only logical thing to do, let your pain become ambition. "Yes," she remarked softly. He turned to face her, narrowing eyes. Still, you loved. You carried recollections of us still. I cleaned mine. I burned them down and rebuilt this kingdom on the remains. "And now without the fire you don't know who you are." His lips parted just a little. Scarlet stood and made slow approach toward him. She bent next to the chair, her hand just resting on his knee. "You are not who he created, Tucker." "I'm not sure with anyone else I would be." She gazed up at him, voice just a whisper. "You would be my darling." His breath froze. He stared at her as though she had split a hole in his chest. "I have despised you for so long," he murmured. I never stopped wanting you, though. "I am aware." I tried, he said. Every time I touched another woman.

Every time I closed another contract. Every time I forced myself to overlook your name. "Tucker's" Suddenly he drew her into his lap, arms like a vice tightly around her waist. She gasped lightly but did not object. His mouth discovered her neck, not in search of food but in anguish. A kiss like an apology that stayed against her flesh. His fingers curled into the rear of her blouse, his body shook beneath hers. "I never stopped loving you," he said. Even when I assured myself I did. Scarlet wrinkled her forehead toward his. then quit punishing me. Stop berating yourself. Once gently, his lips brushed hers. Once more, deeper.

This kiss was not driven by fury. not exact retribution. It was grief wrapped in want, suffering twisted with need. Their mouths moved in slow time, hands seeking, bodies pressed close, the fire heating their skin as though it knew how frigid their hearts had been. His hand stayed on her cheek as he at last turned away. "If you tell me that was genuine," he said, "just once... You will be believed by me. "It was real," she said softly. Still real is what we say. His gaze closed. And Tucker Beaumont opened first time as well. There is no facade here. No armour. There is not venom. Just a man raw, damaged, bleeding silently.

Lean toward him, Scarlet let her head rest against his shoulder. Seated there, they were enveloped in the kind of silence that seemed almost sacred. But calm in this house never lasted very long. The moment broke with a startling knock at the door. Both of them stopped. Tucker sharpened. Red raised her head. There was another knock. Then, gentle but urgent Estelle's voice: "Sir... You have to descend from upstairs. Tucker stood, wary but not slow. “Why?” "The estate gate has been broken-through." The blood of Scarlet went frigid. Tucker hurried quickly, immediately looking for his jacket. "Stay here," he gave the directive. "No.." "Scarlet” "I am not staying behind anymore." Their eyes fixed each other. He gave one quick nod.

Walking out of the room together, they moved from strangers to something in between—not enemies anymore. Estelle stood pallid in the corridor carrying her tablet. "Security just flagged a car," she said. It halted just beyond the gate. Then turned away. Did you obtain a plate number? Tucker enquired. Yes. And sir... that was the automobile of Bernard Milton. The heart of Scar sunk. Tucker turned to face her squarely. She was already, nevertheless, removing her coat off the hanger. Something went off. really terrible. Bernard wouldn't have returned without a purpose. And Scarlet felt as though Wyatt had just turned in his last card.