Chapter 102 An Appointment with Him
Scarlett froze for a beat before recognition clicked into place. Her grip tightened around her phone as she answered, unable to hide her surprise.
"Mr. Philip, hello."
"Scarlett! Good to hear your voice." Orion's tone was steady and warm—the same quality Owen had.
Maybe it was because Owen had mentored him, but Orion's mannerisms carried echoes of his former boss. The familiarity made Scarlett relax, her words coming out brighter.
"Mr. Philip, I was actually planning to call you in the next couple days. You beat me to it."
"I spotted you at the bidding yesterday. Too many eyes around—didn't get a chance to say hello. Hope you're not holding it against me."
"Not at all. That wasn't the right setting for us to chat anyway. Saved us both a headache."
They both knew exactly what kind of headache she meant.
Orion continued, "You're really making moves now. Sky's the limit for you."
The words were simple, but Scarlett heard the genuine praise underneath. "Thank you, Mr. Philip."
"Look, I don't want to keep you. I just realized it's been way too long since we've seen you. How about dinner at my place this Saturday? Bring that little girl your dad keeps bragging about—he says she's adorable."
The subtext was crystal clear, though Scarlett knew better than to dig deeper. "Saturday works. I'll bring my daughter to see you and Mrs. Philip."
"Perfect. Same address as before."
Their conversation wrapped up quickly after that.
As the call ended, Scarlett's mind started racing. Had Owen already reached out to Orion behind the scenes? That was fast. What was he planning?
She mulled it over for a moment. If Owen could contact Orion, that meant they were still in touch.
No point spiraling now. Saturday would come soon enough.
Work consumed her. Scarlett threw herself into this new chapter—the art museum project was her fresh start. The designs were locked in, but now came the real work: coordinating with government departments and construction crews, walking them through every detail of how this building needed to come together.
Scarlett and her team spent the entire day in back-to-back meetings, jumping from one conversation to the next. By the end of it, she didn't feel drained—she felt alive.
Turns out crushing it in your career? Pretty damn satisfying.
As the workday wound down, Scarlett started packing up. Right on cue, Cleo's name flashed across her screen.
She wedged her phone between her shoulder and ear while gathering her things. "What's up?"
"Scarlett! That project you mentioned last time—it's the new district art museum, right?" Cleo's voice practically vibrated with excitement.
"Yep."
"You're incredible! With that on your portfolio, if you ever go solo, you won't have to chase clients—they'll be throwing money at you."
A smile tugged at Scarlett's lips. "Dream big or go home, right?"
Cleo laughed, but the sound faded into a sigh. "Meanwhile, I can't even find anyone to accept my resignation. Word is Mr. Ross got arrested. No idea what he did."
After seeing Wesley yesterday, Scarlett hadn't bothered following up. So Ambrose had actually gotten him thrown in jail.
"You still there?" Cleo prompted.
"Yeah, just thinking how weird life is."
"Tell me about it. Yesterday he was strutting around like he owned the place, today he's in a cell."
"Forget about him. If you're serious about quitting, go to the new manager. And hey—heard the Boleyn Group is hiring. Submit your application the second you're free."
"Wait, really? Don't leave me behind! We need to end up at the same company. I'm tracking down that new manager right now."
Cleo hung up before Scarlett could respond.
Scarlett grabbed her bag and headed for the elevators. Before she could escape, Ambrose called, asking her to come upstairs.
She redirected to the executive floor. Ryder intercepted her the moment she stepped out. "Ms. Mellon, Mr. Boleyn's expecting you."
Scarlett glanced at Ryder and nodded. Of course, Ambrose's assistant would make it clear this was business.
She entered Ambrose's office—all sharp lines and a monochrome palette. Black, white, gray. It should've felt cold, but somehow the combination screamed power and sophistication. Total alpha executive territory.
"Sit over there. We're leaving together in a bit." Ambrose looked up, gesturing toward the sofa without breaking stride on whatever he was working on.
"I drove here."
"I'll ride back with you."
Scarlett gave up.
She dropped onto the sofa and pulled out her phone, texting Briar to kill time.
Scarlett: [You swamped this week?]
A few seconds passed before Briar responded.
Briar: [A bit.]
Briar: [Congrats! Yesterday, you literally became famous overnight. THE art museum designer!]
Scarlett: [When your schedule clears up, let me take you out for a celebration dinner.]
Briar: [How about tonight?]
Scarlett's lips twitched. Scarlett: [Scared I'll forget?]
Briar: [ Every time you land a big project, you promise dinner, and then somehow it's like the conversation never happened.]
Scarlett's mouth curved into a guilty smile. After a pause, she typed: But I'm busy tonight.
Briar: [Let me guess. Plans with Ambrose?]
Scarlett: [Yep.]
They kept chatting, and somehow Scarlett found herself spilling everything about her son—how he might still be alive. Briar's response came fast and furious, a string of messages absolutely eviscerating Wesley and Brielle.
Scarlett: [They're both locked up now. I'll make sure they pay for what they did.]
The world was massive. How was she supposed to find one child? But with Ambrose involved, she could breathe a little easier.
"Let's go." Ambrose's voice cut through her thoughts. He'd finished up.
They headed out together—the secretarial pool had already cleared out. Only Ryder remained.
They took Ambrose's private elevator down to the garage. When they reached Scarlett's car, she hesitated.
"You know what, maybe I should just leave my car here and we take yours?"
Ambrose studied her compact sedan. "This thing's pretty cramped. You should upgrade—would make it easier when I need a ride."
He completely ignored her suggestion. Scarlett hit the unlock button and opened the door. "I'll replace it when it dies on me." She slid into the driver's seat.
With no other choice, Ambrose folded himself into the passenger side. His long legs pressed against the dashboard. He shot her a look that was equal parts disbelief and resignation.
"You insisted on taking this car," Scarlett pointed out. "Deal with it."
Ambrose said nothing.
They headed toward Lakeside Garden, planning to stop at the supermarket on the way for groceries—Ambrose still needed dinner.
Before they could reach the store, Scarlett's phone rang. Rhea's name on the screen.
"Yara's sick," Rhea said, and everything else fell away.
They turned the car around immediately, racing back to pick up Yara before heading straight to the hospital. The moment they arrived, the doctor ordered bloodwork.