The Last Curtain

The Last Curtain
The second Beaumont charity event was smaller in scale, but that made it all the more dangerous. The venue had changed from the towering ballroom of the estate to the opulent marble hall of the Beaumont Foundation’s downtown gallery. Fewer guests. Closer quarters. No distractions. Just polished champagne glasses, gold-tipped name tags, and teeth behind every smile.

Scarlet stood just inside the entrance, her spine straight, her lips painted crimson. The dress she wore tonight was softer than the last one cream silk with a plunging neckline and thin gold chains that dipped between her shoulder blades. Delicate, almost romantic. A lie stitched in satin.

The lights above shimmered like trapped starlight. Cameras flashed from every corner.

She could feel the weight of every eye.

And beside her, like a perfectly timed curse, Tucker Beaumont appeared.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t offer his arm.

He simply stood there in a charcoal suit that cost more than most people’s rent, his jaw set in stone, his presence sharp and silent like a blade tucked under velvet.

A photographer moved in, snapping feverishly.

Scarlet tilted her face toward the camera, her smile flawless.

Tucker’s hand brushed hers.

It was not affection. It was strategy. For the lens.

She didn’t flinch. She smiled wider.

Inside, the gallery was a sea of champagne and tension. Tall ceilings. Cold art. Everything designed to remind guests of how powerful the Beaumonts were how far above the world they floated.

But tonight, that illusion was fraying.

Scarlet walked two steps ahead of Tucker. Deliberate.

The guests parted for them. Some greeted Tucker with the usual deference. Some nodded at Scarlet with tightly controlled expressions. Others stared openly, whispering just behind raised flutes.

She caught snatches of it as she passed.

“She looks different, doesn’t she?”

“Can’t believe she came.”

“Bold, considering everything.”

“She’s going to ruin him.”

Scarlet let the words fall away.

This wasn’t new.

But it was louder now.

She felt Tucker pause behind her as if he heard it too.

Good.

Let him hear it all.

They reached the central gallery room high domed ceiling, golden light spilling across white marble floors. At the far end, Wyatt stood beneath a large, abstract canvas. Gabrielle was to his right. Magnolia to his left. Neither of them looked thrilled to see Scarlet.

The crowd adjusted as the couple entered.

Scarlet moved toward the table with the sign-in registry, her heels echoing.

She felt Tucker at her back again. His shadow.

He leaned in.

“You didn’t have to come.”

She signed her name with a flourish and handed the pen to the next guest.

“Didn’t I?” she murmured.

He said nothing.

Scarlet walked toward the display cases where rare auction items had been arranged diamond-encrusted pens, vintage watches, a hand-painted violin.

People circled them, admiring, pretending not to look at her.

Tucker finally spoke.

“What are you trying to prove?”

Scarlet kept her gaze forward. “That I don’t vanish.”

“You think this is strength?”

“I think this is what survival looks like.”

Tucker let out a breath. “You’re painting a target on your back.”

Scarlet turned slightly, her voice low.

“I was born with one. You just didn’t notice it until it got in your way.”

He blinked.

A server appeared between them, offering champagne. Scarlet took a glass, nodded her thanks, and moved through the room without looking back.

She stopped in front of one of the larger exhibits a golden mask framed in glass. Venetian. Ornate. Hollow.

Fitting.

“You’re causing a scene,” a voice said behind her.

She didn’t turn.

Magnolia Beaumont stood at her shoulder, regal in black silk, her gray hair twisted into a perfect knot.

“I haven’t said a word,” Scarlet replied.

Magnolia’s tone was razor-thin. “You don’t need to. You’re a walking headline.”

Scarlet took a slow sip of champagne.

“I don’t owe you an apology,” she said.

Magnolia’s fingers tightened on her clutch. “No. You owe my son one.”

Scarlet’s smile returned, thin as paper.

“Which one?”

Magnolia’s jaw clenched.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know the damage you’ve done,” she said.

Scarlet turned to face her.

“You’re right,” she said. “I do know.”

She stepped closer.

“And I’m just getting started.”

Magnolia’s face cracked for a fraction of a second.

Scarlet walked away before the woman could recover.

She moved past the paintings, past the long buffet tables covered in untouched caviar and carved fruit, and into the hall that led to the private lounge.

Inside, the lights were lower, the walls lined with velvet and framed family photos that tried too hard to look casual.

Scarlet slipped into the far corner.

And waited.

It didn’t take long.

Tucker appeared in the doorway, glancing around. When he saw her, he paused.

Then he crossed the room.

“You shouldn’t walk off like that,” he said.

“I wasn’t aware I had to ask permission.”

He didn’t answer.

Scarlet turned, keeping her voice low.

“You’re standing on a sinking ship.”

Tucker didn’t flinch. “I know.”

Silence stretched between them.

She studied him.

He looked tired. Haunted. Fractured in ways she hadn’t expected.

“I heard him,” Tucker said finally.

Scarlet frowned. “Who?”

“My father. Last night. In the study.”

He looked away.

“He’s planning to ruin you. And he doesn’t care if he burns me down with you.”

Scarlet exhaled slowly. “Then you need to decide whose ashes you want to stand in.”

Tucker leaned against the wall.

“I don’t want this war,” he said.

Scarlet’s voice was quiet. “Then you shouldn’t have started it.”

“I didn’t ”

“You didn’t stop it either.”

They stood there, inches apart, years apart.

“You still think I betrayed you,” she said. “Don’t you?”

He looked down.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Scarlet smiled, bitter and small.

“Then let me give you something simple,” she said. “I came back because I had no choice. I stayed because I refuse to be erased. And if I go down now, I’m not going alone.”

Tucker didn’t speak.

She stepped forward, her voice a whisper between them.

“If you want to help me, then help me. If you want to destroy me, get in line.”

He looked at her truly looked.

“You don’t flinch anymore,” he said.

“No,” Scarlet said. “I learned that from you.”

A long silence.

Then: “What happens next?”

Scarlet reached into her clutch and pulled out a folded slip of paper.

She handed it to him.

“What is it?”

“Names,” she said. “Three board members. Two shell companies. One offshore bank.”

Tucker’s eyes widened.

“You want me to use this?”

Scarlet’s voice was firm. “I want you to choose.”

She turned toward the door.

Paused.

“You only get to stand on one side, Tucker. Decide before the floor crumbles.”

Then she walked away.

Behind her, Tucker stood frozen in the lounge, the paper trembling in his hand.

And far above them, in the highest corner of the gallery, a surveillance camera whirred quietly watching it all.