Chapter 25 Chapter 25
Scarlett’s POV
He set me down gently. Like I was something fragile.
Then he pulled the blanket up. Tucked it around me. His movements were quick and efficient.
He stood up straight. Looked down at me.
"One hour. Then you need to get up."
I burrowed deeper into the blankets. The warm softness felt amazing after the cold outside.
But his tone annoyed me. That commanding voice. Like he was giving orders.
"You're very bossy, you know that?"
His eyes got darker. He kept staring at me.
"Someone has to take care of you."
His voice dropped even lower. There was an edge to it. An implication that I didn't take care of myself.
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him I'd been taking care of myself my whole life and I was doing just fine.
But the words stuck in my throat.
Because he was looking at me with that expression. That intense, focused look that made my brain stop working properly.
My heart was doing that stupid pounding thing again.
I realized something. His bossiness wasn't about controlling me. It was about worrying. About making sure I was okay.
That made it harder to be mad at him.
Damon turned and walked toward the bathroom. I heard the water running.
He came back a minute later. He had a warm washcloth in his hands.
"Here. You'll feel better."
He held it out to me.
I reached up to take it. My fingers brushed against his.
The touch lasted maybe half a second. But electricity shot up my arm.
Our eyes met.
The air in the room changed. Got heavier somehow.
Neither of us moved. We just stared at each other.
My mouth felt dry. My heart was beating so loud I was sure he could hear it.
Damon looked away first.
He pulled his hand back. Stepped away from the bed.
He walked to the door. Stopped with his back to me.
He didn't turn around.
"Don't forget. One hour."
His voice was different. Softer than before. Less commanding.
Then he left. The door closed quietly behind him.
I sat there holding the warm washcloth. Staring at the closed door.
My face felt like it was on fire. I pressed the washcloth against my cheeks.
What is wrong with me?
Why did every little thing he did make my heart race? Why did I feel like this? I pressed the warm washcloth against my burning cheeks.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I reached over and grabbed it. The screen lit up with a notification.
Bank of America: Wire Transfer Received - $100,000.00
I stared at the screen. My eyebrows pulled together.
What?
I opened the banking app. Scrolled through the transaction details. The money was definitely there. One hundred thousand dollars. Just sitting in my account.
Where did this come from?
Another notification popped up. A text message from an unknown number.
I opened it.
"Wire went through. Get rid of it. Take care of yourself. More if you need it. -Lorenzo"
I stopped breathing.
The warm feeling in my chest vanished. Replaced by something cold and sharp.
He meant the baby. Lorenzo had just sent me one hundred thousand dollars to get an abortion.
My hands started shaking.
This was anger. Pure, white-hot anger.
I looked at the text message again. The words didn't change.
"Get rid of it."
Like my baby was trash. Like the life growing inside me was something disposable. Something that could be thrown away with enough money.
I thought about the past six months at the Romano mansion. All the times Viviana had screamed at me. All the times Nico had looked at me with disgust. All the times Zelda had smiled sweetly while twisting the knife.
Not one single time had they given me money. When I needed anything, they told me I was ungrateful for even asking.
But now? Now they were throwing money at me.
Because they wanted me to kill my baby.
This was the first money the Romano family had ever sent me.
I grabbed my wallet from the dresser. Pulled out the Bank of America debit card they'd given me when I first arrived at their mansion.
Viviana had handed it to me with that fake smile. "For your personal expenses, dear. So you can buy things you need."
I'd never used it. Never even checked if there was money in the account. I'd assumed it was empty. Just another way to make me feel like I belonged while actually giving me nothing.
Turned out I was right. The card had been sitting there for six months with zero dollars in it.
Until they needed me to do something for them.
I looked at the card. At the Romano family name printed across the front.
I snapped it in half. The plastic cracked. I threw them in the trash can next to my desk.
"Fucking disgusting," I said out loud.
The next few days passed in a blur.
I kept working at The Brew Station. Same early morning shifts. Same regular customers. Same routine.
Damon stopped driving me to work. Instead, Arthur showed up every morning at 5:45 AM in a different car. Something less conspicuous than the Mercedes. A black Toyota Camry that could blend in anywhere.
"Good morning, Mrs. Wolfe," Arthur would say with that formal butler voice. "Ready for work?"
Arthur never tried to make small talk. Never asked intrusive questions. Just drove me where I needed to go and picked me up when my shift ended.
It was actually kind of nice.
What wasn't nice were the bodyguards.
Two of them. Always two. Dressed in black suits that screamed "private security." They followed me everywhere.
Into the coffee shop. They'd sit at a corner table nursing the same cup of coffee for eight hours.
To the restroom. They'd wait outside the door like personal sentries.
To the storage room when I needed to restock supplies. One would follow me in while the other guarded the door.
It was suffocating.
"This is ridiculous," I told Arthur on the third day. We were parked outside The Brew Station. The two bodyguards were already inside, securing their usual corner table.
"Mr. Wolfe insists, Mrs. Wolfe," Arthur said calmly.
"I don't need bodyguards to make coffee."
"Mr. Wolfe believes otherwise."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to point out that I was a trained assassin who could kill both bodyguards with my bare hands if I wanted to.
But I couldn't say that.
So instead I just sighed. Grabbed my bag. Got out of the car.