Chapter 102 The Ugly Truth
I stayed in the shadows of the hallway, my back pressed so hard against the wall that the decorative molding bit into my spine. My heart was a frantic bird trapped in my ribs, but I forced my breathing to stay silent. I was a ghost in white cotton, eavesdropping on a conversation that felt like the tearing of a veil. Inside the study, the air was thick with a tension that felt explosive, the scent of her floral perfume now clashing violently with the ozone of Nate’s mounting fury.
"Nate, darling, you're being hysterical," Scarlett’s voice drifted through the gap, smooth as silk and twice as slippery. "I told you, I have no idea what happened after I left the girl. If she wandered off with the wrong sort of people, that’s hardly my cross to bear."
"Do not use that tone with me," Nate’s voice hit like a physical blow. It was a low, dangerous snarl that I’d never heard from him before—not even in our most heated arguments. "And do not call me 'darling' while the woman I am protecting is in the other room recovering from the poison you put in her glass. You don't get to act familiar with me while you're standing in the wreckage of your own cruelty."
"Poison? Really, Nate? It was a party," she scoffed, though I could hear the faint tremor of nerves beneath the bravado. "People experiment. People lose their way. If Mila couldn't handle the pace of a real Alverstone event, perhaps she should have stayed in the boroughs where things are a bit more... pedestrian."
I heard the heavy, muffled thud of Nate slamming his hands onto the mahogany desk. I flinched, even through the wall.
"I saw the camera, Scarlett!" he roared, his voice finally breaking into a terrifying, jagged shout that echoed off the high ceilings. "I saw the room! I saw the two animals you hired to sit there and wait for her to lose consciousness! You didn't just want to embarrass her. You wanted to destroy her. You wanted to film her being violated so you could have a leash on her—and me—for the rest of our lives."
The silence that followed was absolute, a vacuum of sound that made my ears ring. Then, Scarlett’s voice rose, the melodic, polished veneer finally snapping. The sound was sharp, ugly, and laced with a desperate kind of mania.
"It was supposed to be me, Nate!" she screamed, the sound tearing through the apartment. "For three years, I’ve stood by your side at every gala, every board meeting, every pathetic little social mixer. I’ve been the perfect partner! I’ve been the woman the Salvatores expected you to have! I have groomed myself for your world, for your name, while you were busy playing at being a rebel."
"You were a family friend, Scarlett," Nate’s voice came back, cold and sharp as a scalpel. "Nothing more. I never gave you a reason to think otherwise. You were a face in a crowd of faces I tolerated because of my mother."
"Because you were too busy looking past me!" she shrieked. I heard the sound of glass shattering—a coaster or a crystal tumbler—hitting the floor. "And for what? For her? A charity case from Brooklyn who doesn't even know which fork to use? She’s trash, Nate! She’s a stain on everything we’ve built at Alverstone. She’s a common little social climber who thinks a few library sessions make her one of us. She doesn't belong in our world, she doesn't belong in your bed, and she certainly doesn't belong in the Salvatore lineage."
I closed my eyes, my fingers trembling against the fabric of Nate’s shirt. The words stung, but they didn't have the power I thought they would. Hearing her call me "trash" was almost a relief—it meant the mask was gone. The sisterhood she’d preached was nothing but a weaponized lie used to protect her own perceived territory.
"You’re wrong," Nate said. His voice was lower now, which made it ten times more terrifying. It was the sound of a predator closing in. "She has more grace in her pinky finger than you have in your entire pedigree. You think Alverstone belongs to you? You think it’s about bloodlines and gold dresses? Mila earned her place there. You just occupied yours because your father paid the entrance fee and the staff was too polite to tell you that you’re a hollow, unremarkable girl."
"She’s a nobody!" Scarlett’s voice cracked, turning into a raw, jagged sob. "I’ve waited years for you to see me! To see me as a woman, not just the Tate’s daughter. I did this for us! If she was gone—if she was disgraced and discarded like the trash she is—you would have realized that I’m the only one who truly understands the weight of your name. I’m the only one who can carry it!"
"I’ve seen you, Scarlett," Nate replied. I could almost picture the look of absolute, lethal loathing on his face. "I’ve seen exactly who you are. You’re a monster wrapped in silk. And I have never been more disgusted in my entire life. You didn't do this for 'us.' You did this because you’re a coward who’s afraid of a girl who actually has to work for what she wants. You’re afraid that she’s better than you, and the worst part for you, Scarlett, is that you're right. She is better. She's smarter. She's stronger. And she is everything you will never be."
"Nate, please," Scarlett whispered, her voice now small and broken, the sound of a girl realizing the tower she built was collapsing on top of her. "You can't do this. My father... the board... our families have been intertwined for decades. Think of the fallout."
"Your father can't save you from me," Nate said, his voice ringing with the finality of a death sentence. "And neither can the board. You didn't just cross a line, Scarlett. You burned the whole map."
I stayed hidden in the darkness of the hall, the cold marble of the floor seeping into my feet, waiting for the final blow. My heart was still racing, but the fear was gone, replaced by the weight of Nate's words. He wasn't just defending me; he was choosing me over every legacy he had ever known.