Chapter 133
Chapter 133
Imperial City's underworld went completely insane over the fifty-million-dollar bounty.
Autumnleaf District—Imperial City's most chaotic slum. Sewage ran through the streets, and the air reeked of marijuana and rotting garbage. Elizabeth huddled behind a shipping container in an abandoned factory, trembling all over. Her designer coat, once her pride, was caked with filth, and she'd lost one of her heels while running.
A group of homeless men found her. Greed burned in their eyes as they grabbed her hair like they were dragging a dead dog.
"Let go of me! I'll give you money!" Elizabeth screamed, struggling.
One of them slapped her hard across the face and stuffed a filthy rag in her mouth. No one was going to throw away fifty million dollars for her empty promises.
Two hours later, the bodyguards' SUV pulled up at the entrance to the slum. The homeless men collected their reward, and Elizabeth was thrown into the trunk like garbage.
Long Island Estate, basement.
Harsh fluorescent lights flickered on. The bodyguards threw Elizabeth hard onto the cold cement floor.
She lifted her head and saw Brandon sitting in a leather chair with Scarlett standing beside him.
"Brandon!" Elizabeth crawled toward him on her hands and knees, trying to grab his legs.
A bodyguard kicked her in the shoulder, knocking her back to the ground.
Elizabeth ignored the pain and knelt there, frantically kowtowing. Tears and snot streaked her face. "Brandon, I was wrong! Please let me go! For the sake of our three years together, spare my life! I'll leave Imperial City right now—I'll never appear in front of you again!"
Brandon's eyes were ice-cold, without a trace of warmth. Looking at this lying woman on the floor made him sick.
"I don't hit women." Brandon stood and stepped back, giving Scarlett complete control. His voice was calm. "Lettie, she's yours to handle. Do whatever you want."
Scarlett stepped forward. She looked down at Elizabeth like she was looking at a corpse.
"Scarlett, please spare me!" Elizabeth turned to Scarlett, kowtowing desperately.
Scarlett ignored her pleas. She turned to the bodyguard beside her, her voice flat and emotionless. "She liked pretending to be disabled, didn't she? Break her legs. For real this time."
The bodyguard nodded and pulled out a tactical baton from his belt.
"No! Don't!" Elizabeth screamed in terror, trying to crawl backward.
Two bodyguards moved forward and pinned her shoulders down. Another raised the baton and brought it down hard on Elizabeth's shin.
Crack. The sound of breaking bone echoed clearly through the basement.
"Ahhh—!" Elizabeth let out a piercing shriek. Her whole body convulsed with pain, and cold sweat instantly soaked through her clothes.
Scarlett's expression didn't change. "Continue."
The bodyguard raised his hand and delivered a series of brutal slaps—smack, smack, smack—over a dozen strikes landing hard across Elizabeth's face. The force was tremendous. The corner of her mouth split open, and blood mixed with knocked-out teeth spilled from her lips. Her once-decent face instantly swelled beyond recognition, turning into a purple-red pulp.
Elizabeth collapsed on the floor, barely able to scream anymore. Her whole body shook, the agony from her shattered leg unbearable.
"Please... just kill me..." Elizabeth begged through mangled words.
Scarlett crouched down and looked directly into her terror-filled eyes.
"Killing you would be too easy." Scarlett's voice was cold and sharp. "You plotted against your own birth mother, climbed over her corpse to get ahead. You bribed a back-alley doctor and killed my child. Elizabeth, go to hell and kowtow in apology—to Helen, to my baby."
Scarlett stood and turned away.
The bodyguard understood immediately. He stepped forward with a thin steel wire, looped it around Elizabeth's neck, and pulled tight.
Elizabeth's eyes bulged. Her hands clawed frantically at the wire around her throat, her nails tearing and bleeding. The air was completely cut off. Her face turned blue-purple.
Within seconds, her struggling grew weaker.
Elizabeth stared at the ceiling, her eyes filled with bitter resentment and hatred. She'd schemed for three years, had been so close to getting everything she wanted—only to end up dying like this, her body left in pieces.
Her pupils dilated. Elizabeth stopped breathing. Her eyes stayed open, death frozen on her face.
The thick smell of blood mixed with the stench of bodily fluids filled the basement.
Brandon frowned. He strode forward quickly and pulled Scarlett into his arms, covering her eyes with his large hand.
"Don't look." His voice was low.
He turned to the bodyguards and ordered, "Clean this up."
The bodyguards swiftly dragged away the corpse and started cleaning the scene.
Brandon held Scarlett as they left the basement. He could feel her body was stiff. Elizabeth was dead—her revenge complete—but witnessing death firsthand still carried a heavy impact. A wave of fear washed over Brandon. He worried Scarlett might be left with psychological trauma.
The next morning.
Brandon canceled all meetings at the Robinson Group. He personally drove Scarlett to a private psychology clinic on the Upper East Side. The doctor was a leading professor from a top medical school.
Scarlett lay on the therapy chair with her eyes closed. Brandon stayed right outside the door the entire time, never leaving.
For the next two weeks, Brandon accompanied Scarlett to therapy every single day. He simply stayed quietly by her side, prepared all her meals, and kept watch by her bed at night.
With professional counseling and Brandon's constant presence, Scarlett's emotions gradually stabilized. The violence and despair weighing on her heart slowly gave way to calm.
Two weeks later, Long Island Estate study.
Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows onto the carpet. Scarlett sat on the sofa, looking much better than before.
Brandon walked over and handed her an old metal box.
"What's this?" Scarlett looked up.
"Your mother's last words." Brandon's voice was gentle. "I had someone retrieve it from the old estate back home. There are some things from back then I never told you."
Scarlett took the box and opened it. Inside was a yellowed letter, the handwriting somewhat faded but definitely her mother's. The letter revealed some old secrets and answered questions that had haunted Scarlett for years.
Brandon sat beside her, watching her profile as he spoke slowly. "When Helen took the fall, it wasn't just for the money. Elizabeth pushed her so far that Helen actually wanted to kill her—she really tried."
Scarlett turned to him, somewhat surprised.
"Elizabeth went too far. She drove even Helen to the breaking point." Brandon explained. "Helen had been diagnosed with terminal cancer and didn't have long to live. She wanted to take Elizabeth down with her, but she failed. By the time I uncovered all this, Helen was already in custody. She was dying anyway, so I let it go and didn't pursue it further."
Scarlett's grip on the letter tightened slightly.
So the truth from back then had been far more complicated. Behind Helen taking the blame was this twisted drama of a mother and daughter trying to destroy each other. Brandon's decision not to pursue charges hadn't been entirely out of favoritism toward Elizabeth—it was because Helen truly had attempted murder and was already a dying woman.
Scarlett lowered her eyes. Another corner of the ice around her heart melted.
Brandon looked at her, his gaze focused and full of emotion. "Lettie, I've uncovered everything from the past. Everyone who hurt you—I've dealt with them. Can we start over?"
Scarlett raised her head and looked directly into his eyes.
Elizabeth was dead. Helen was dead too. Her revenge was complete, the misunderstandings cleared up. But she touched her flat stomach—the place where a life had once been growing.
Some wounds couldn't be completely erased with a casual "let's start over."
"Brandon." Scarlett's voice was calm, her eyes clear. "The truth is out. I don't hate you anymore."
Brandon's eyes flashed with wild joy. He started to reach for her hand.
"But—" Scarlett pulled away from his movement, her tone serious. "There's still something weighing on my heart. That child, and everything I went through these past three years—I can't just pretend it never happened."
Brandon's hand froze in midair. He looked at Scarlett, the wild joy in his eyes slowly settling into determination.
"I know." Brandon withdrew his hand, his voice solemn. "I won't force you."
Scarlett stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at Phoenix City's bustling streets.
"Brandon." Scarlett didn't turn around. Her voice rang clearly in the quiet study. "You want me to forgive you. You want me to be Mrs. Robinson again."
She turned around and looked at this man who dominated the business world but humbled himself to dust before her.
"Then court me again."