Chapter 54 I Show My Tîts To Strangers For A Living.

Chapter 54 I Show My Tîts To Strangers For A Living.
~SCARLETT.
I remained frozen, unable to speak nor think. 
The tiny boy stood on the sidewalk, glaring at me as if I were the odd one. And maybe I was. I just sat there, hands stiff on the wheel, heart pounding in my chest as though it were trying to escape.
He was mine.
I didn't need a DNA test. One look, and I knew.
I blinked, my throat dry, struggling to find words. "I-I'm not weird," I croaked. "I was just... admiring your cool mailbox."
Really? Mailbox?
He squinted his eyes like he could see right through me. "You're still here," he said in a flat and unimpressed tone. "That's weird."
Then, before I could find a better excuse, he added, "You wait. My brudder's coming. He'll deal with you."
And with that, he bolted for the house, his tiny feet thumping against the pavement, and the front door slamming shut behind him.
Shit.
Whatever big "brudder" he was talking about, I didn't want to be here when he showed up. Not when I looked like a deranged stalker in a beat-up Chevy parked outside a house in a fancy neighborhood.
I threw the car into reverse and peeled away, tires screeching as I fled like a damn coward.
But even as the house disappeared from view, his face stayed burned into my mind.
What kind of three-year-old talked like that? Bold. Fearless. Smart-mouthed. Like he'd already seen too much of the world. Those eyes? Mine. That face? My father's.
But that attitude?
All Liam.
Of course, it was.
Weeks after I ran from the resort, after everything imploded, I found out I was pregnant.
I remember crouching behind a dumpster, holding a stolen pregnancy test, staring at two pink lines that felt like the end of the world. My hands shook and my mind screamed.
At first, I tried to convince myself it couldn't be Liam's. He always used protection. Every. Single. Time.
But then I remembered the masked man in Lily's room that day.
He hadn't used a condom.
And, of course, the revelation that hit of Liam being the masked man. But why pretend to be someone else, why touch me like that, steal what I would've willingly given soon enough?
I would've said yes. I mean, I did say yes. To let him guide me, teach me. I wanted him. So why choose lies and games?
After all that, I didn't confront him. I didn't get answers. I just ended up pregnant.
I didn't know how to be a mother. I didn't know how to handle that kind of responsibility. I was alone. Starving. Terrified. So I came up with an idea I hoped might give my baby a chance. I decided to find a quiet, fancy neighborhood and leave him on a doorstep. 
Nine months later, that's exactly what I did.
From across the street, I watched as a woman opened the door, gasped, looked around, and then gently scooped him into her arms before going inside.
And I told myself he'd be safe. Loved. Better off.
But now... seeing him?
I didn't feel relief. I felt like someone had ripped open my chest and replaced my heart with knives.
Did I do the right thing?
I didn't know then, and I still don't.
I tried to breathe and shift gears, telling myself I had important things to do. I needed food and had to prep for tonight. Emily had ended up flaking, and I left the house without eating. My stomach churned, feeling like it was devouring itself, and all I could think of was homemade jambalaya: spicy, hearty, comforting.
One bite of that and maybe I could breathe again.
That was the plan: cook, eat, then head to The Velvet Fang.
But when I got back home, something felt off.
Climbing out of the car, I slung my bag over my shoulder and started toward the door. Then I stopped when I saw that the front door was cracked open.
No. I always locked it. Always.
My breath seized, and I backed up a step, my hand slipping into my bag to find the taser, gripping it tight.
Pushing the door open wide, I crept forward slowly, scanning the house. The living room looked normal: couch untouched, no drawers open, nothing missing. But the bedroom door was slightly ajar. 
Someone was in there.
Inching closer, every nerve in my body was on fire. My thumb hovered over the taser trigger. Just get a peek. Just see who the hell-
Leaning in, I saw a tall, very broad man standing with his back to me, muscles coiled beneath inked skin. Tattoos wound down his arms, disappearing under a black T-shirt that hugged his frame, and a backwards cap sat low on his head. He looked relaxed, like he belonged.
I raised the taser, ready to fire it up-
"I know you're there, green eyes," he said in a deep voice. "Might as well come in."
My heart skipped a beat. Only one person called me that.

~~~

~LIAM.

~~~
The door creaked open wider, and I turned to find her standing there.
She looked exactly like I remembered... and nothing like I remembered at all.
Her hair was dyed a bright red, and her plump lips parted in shock. Those fiery green eyes of hers widened, like she'd seen a ghost.
God, she was still beautiful.
And now I'd found her.
Four long years. Four years of silence, wondering if she was alive, if she had moved on, or if she ever thought about me.
Four years of grinding through my sentence, lifting weights until my arms went numb, until the only thing I could focus on was the burn in my muscles. I turned my pain into ink, tattooed it into my skin, hoping it would somehow make everything go away.
I bought a tattoo parlor, and burned memories into strangers' skin, pretending it helped. It didn't.
She never left me. Never left my mind. Never left my chest.
What was the reason she left?
I replayed those few days a thousand times. We had been good. So good. I had finally earned her trust. I was supposed to return to the room that day to start the next lesson after handling something, but then an urgent matter came up. Just a few hours' delay. 
But when I came back, she was gone.
I convinced myself she panicked. Maybe she'd gotten scared and ran. It made sense, didn't it?
Then, yesterday, I finally came back to the Foundation. My sentence was over. I expected something... anything, but there was nothing waiting for me.
Kelvin had taken the spotlight. My name was dust and my failure was nothing more than a ghost they barely whispered about. It was like I'd never mattered.
And just when I thought I'd been erased for good, a text came through this morning-no name, just a photo of her and a pinned location. So I did the only thing that made sense: I caught a flight to Nevada, picked her lock, and walked into her house like a ghost from her past.
And now, here we were.
She stood in front of me, alive, and not at all scared.
Her expression shifted in a flash: shock, then recognition, and finally that unmistakable blaze of fury. Her jaw tightened, and when she spoke, her voice whipped me hard across the face.
"What the fuck do you want?"
There was no hesitation, no warmth, just fire.
She threw up her arms, not waiting for an answer. "Of course, you're here. Because why wouldn't the rest of my past start crawling out of the goddamn ground?"
The rest? What the fuck did that mean?
I swallowed the question. Not the time.
"It's good to see you, doll."
"It's Red. My name is Red. And no... it's not good to see you, Liam."
Right. Red hair. Red name.
Message received.
I stepped forward, but she didn't move, didn't even bat an eyelid, just squared her shoulders, as if ready to knock me flat.
"You left. No warning, no call, not even a goodbye," I said, my fists curling at my sides. "Why?"
Lifting her head slightly, her lips curled into something cold. "That's kind of the point of disappearing, isn't it? You don't say goodbye."
I gritted my teeth. "I deserved one."
She barked out a humorless laugh, sharp and cold. "You deserved one? You think you were owed anything after what you did?"
My chest tightened. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
She took a step forward now, close enough that I could see her hands shaking even as her glare stayed locked on mine.
"You think I don't know what you did?" she hissed. "You think I don't know who you really are?"
My breath seized.
She knew?
No. She couldn't have.
"I know everything, Liam. Every twisted, fucked-up thing. And you're not going to use me to get to another one of your assignments. Not again."
My eyes widened in their sockets at her words. In an instant, I was back at that morning, remembering the suite door swinging wide open when Kelvin and I arrived. I'd brushed it off as a room service mix-up. But she had been there. She'd heard everything. 
Fuck!
Before I could utter a word, she spun around and stormed out of the room, heading straight for the living room like she hadn't just detonated every fucking nerve in my body.
I followed, feeling the weight of everything crashing down on me all at once: the guilt, the loss, and the crushing fear of losing her again.
"Scarlett... wait. Just let me explain. Please."
She turned halfway, eyes burning.
"Explain what?" she snapped. "That I was just meant to be used for the benefit of this so-called foundation?"
"No. It wasn't like that. I-"
"I'm going to work now," she cut me off, stepping toward the front door. "By the time I get back, I want you gone. And gone for good."
"What work?" I asked quietly.
Pausing, she turned, meeting my eyes with a tight smile. "Oh, she hasn't told you yet?" 
She?
"I'm a stripper, Liam. I show my t!ts to strangers for a living." she said flatly, then walked out, slamming the door shut with a force that echoed through the house.