Chapter 9: The Secret Unveiling

Scarlet sat at the elegant desk in Tucker's library, long shadows created on the polished wood by the low light from the chandelier overhead. Only the gentle rustling of papers disturbed the quiet in the room. She had spent hours not sure, days combing through records in search of anything that would provide responses. Her breath seized in her throat as she turned over a stack of documents; her heart hammered in her chest when she came to a certain folder. It was a little, plain manila folder.

She stopped momentarily, the weight of what she was about to find crushing down on her. She had always sensed something was off, something she could not put her finger on. She had not anticipated this though. The papers within felt like a lifeline, yet they were thick with the kind of legal language she would have once sent scurrying. As Scarlett turned the pages, her hands shook and her eyes grew incredulous. The truth was buried here in black and white, in figures and signatures she didn't completely grasp but that were shockingly obvious. Her past the broken promise, the abandonment, the dread finally came together. She felt as though Wyatt Lockwood's name, her parents' names, and debt they had kept from her all had branding iron effect.

He had blackmailed her family, driving them into terrible debt and leveraging her love for Tucker. She was always meant to be a pawn in a game she hadn't understood; she was never supposed to be with him. The insight felt like a stomach attack. Her heart sank as the ramifications became clear. She had never had any option. The one person she had never thought had all directed her love for Tucker, her sacrifice, the agony of abandoning him. Rising, Scarlet's breath seized in her throat and she felt the weight of the papers in her hand like a physical load. She couldn't let this go. She couldn allow him to get away with it. Her mind spinning with rage and treachery, she slammed the folder shut with shaking hands and bolted from the room. She had no second thought. One individual only knew how to provide her the required answers. One person had to pay for what he had done.

She had Wyatt Lockwood to face. The next several days were a haze of contradictory feelings and stress. Scarlet couldn't get rid of the image of the papers, the evidence that Wyatt Lockwood had destroyed her family, her love, her life. She felt the weight of it pressing down on her chest, yet she had no one to talk to. Not with everything on stake, not while she was caught in the situation she had been compelled into, she cannot turn to Bernard. She was imprisoned in Tucker's universe; the more she battled to keep some degree of control, the more it eluded her. Every hour she spent in the mansion, every contact with Tucker, brought fresh aggravation. He was colder than he had ever been, and their gap felt intolerable. Every day she was reminded of the authority he has over her, which fueled her dislike of him further. But there also was something else. Underneath the hate and the wrath was a flickering something she couldn't ignore. Like a strange thing today, a want she had buried was buried so deep. She felt the familiar draw every time Tucker approached her and every time his eye lingered just a second too long. She would not let herself, though, allow herself to slip back into the trap. Still, her heart let her down. She caught herself glancing at him more than once, at the way his jaw clenched when he was angry, the way his voice softened when he didn't realize it. She could not say what she so wanted to to him. Her pride, her wrath, and the reality she had unearthed all held back her. She wasn't ready to embrace the side of her that still loved him, that hurt for him. Scarlet saw the spark of longing during one of these quiet times when Tucker passed her without saying anything. His touch, deliberate or inadvertent, shocked her body with heat. She stopped, her breath seizing as she battled to rein in the feelings poised to erupt. Her pulse pounding, she turned away fast.

Her edge was set not only by physical proximity but also by unresolved history, bitter love, and betrayal. Tucker turned without looking back; for a second, she felt she could have dreamt the whole event. But his voice broke through the quiet at last. Chill. Distinct. "I'll make sure you understand who's in power here, Scarlet," he continued, his words sharp as a sword, yet there was something more down there something gentler she couldn't quite place. Her heart stopped, and the strain between them became thicker until she felt as though she was strataing under the weight of it all. When Scar arrived in the garden gazing out over the vast estate, the moonlight created long shadows on the grass late at night. The air was cool against her skin, and for a minute she felt as like she could breathe away from the stifling walls of the mansion, away from the continual pressure of being someone she wasn’s. Her mind returned to the incidents of the preceding several days—the confrontation with Wyatt, the conflict with Tucker, the bits of truth she had discovered. She had no idea what to do with all or how to forward. She heard slow, deliberate footsteps behind her suddenly.

She turned already knowing who it was. Tucker stood in the doorway, his form softly lit by the house's lights. His eyes tonight caught something different that caused her heart to skip a beat, yet his demeanor was unreadable and his jaw tightened as always. "Scarlet," he whispered in a low, quiet voice. "Your shouldn't be out here alone." She arched an eyebrow, heart still thumping. You show no interest in me. Why shouldn't it matter? Tucker advanced, his eyes never straying from hers. His eyes revealed a flutter of something that might have been regret or maybe something deeper. He halted right before her, near enough for her to feel his body's heat, so releasing the tension between them. "You are right," he answered softly. "I refuse." Still, I object to you acting foolishly. Scarlet felt her throat seize and her heart contracted. Was this the moment? Not sure exactly. The moment she had been fearing, everything between them would either separate or unite. She glimpsed something real under the walls he had erected for a split second, under the fury. Then Tucker's face stiffened once again, his mask sliding back into position as if on cue. Under his breath, he said, "You think you can break me again?" he said as he turned away, leaving Scar alone in the moonlight, her emotions conflicted between want and uncertainty.