Chapter 110 Apology
Their eyes met, and the scene of their quarrel involuntarily popped into both their minds. Scarlett had already changed differently, with the most obvious being coldness.Ambrose stared at her, a wave of frustration washing over him at her newfound distance. He was about to speak, but Scarlett beat him to it.
"You go check on Hayden," she said, her voice flat and business-like. "He probably wants some soup. I'll ask Rhea to make a simple broth."
Without waiting for a reply, she stepped around him and walked toward the kitchen.
Ambrose turned, watching her retreating figure. He raked a hand through his hair, a profound sense of helplessness settling in his chest.
He could feel the change in her as clearly as a drop in temperature—a detached, professional coldness that mirrored the way she'd been at the very beginning of their arrangement.
The fragile progress he'd made had been shattered, all because of his own stupid mouth.
Back in Hayden's room, Ambrose's mind was a million miles away. He was so lost in thought that he barely noticed when Hayden's eyes fluttered open.
"I'm thirsty," Hayden rasped.
The small voice snapped Ambrose back to reality. He poured a glass of water and carefully helped his son take a few sips.
In the past, whenever Hayden had been sick, it was always the nanny who took care of him. Ambrose had never been the one to sit by his bedside. But in this moment, Hayden craved the company. Seeing that Ambrose wasn't leaving, a sense of security washed over him, and he closed his eyes again.
That evening, with both kids under the weather, Scarlett laid out the plan. "Hayden should sleep with you tonight," she stated, not asked. "If his fever spikes in the middle of the night, it's dangerous for him to be alone."
Ambrose's brow furrowed. He wanted to argue, to protest being separated from her, but the icy wall she'd put up was impenetrable. He couldn't risk making things worse.
"Okay," he agreed quietly.
From wiping down feverish foreheads to coaxing spoonfuls of food into small mouths, Ambrose handled it all. He, who had never done any of this before, found himself navigating the foreign territory of hands-on fatherhood. Hayden, for his part, basked in the unprecedented attention.
When it was time for bed, the two of them lay in the king-sized bed together. Hayden had slept with Scarlett before, but never with Ambrose. The novelty was fascinating.
Sure enough, in the dead of night, Hayden's temperature soared. Ambrose fumbled with the children's fever reducer, coaxing the sticky liquid into his son. The whole ordeal left him drained, and a new appreciation bloomed in his chest. Taking care of a sick kid was no joke.
He thought of Scarlett, raising a child all by herself for years, and the sheer scale of her strength hit him with the force of a physical blow.
Scarlett, too, was worried. She couldn't shake the fear that Ambrose, a man who'd never had to do this, might miss the warning signs. After giving him some time to get Hayden settled, she walked to his room and knocked softly.
The door opened almost instantly. Ambrose stood there, his expression shadowed. "What are you doing up?" He asked, his voice a low rumble.
"I came to check on Hayden. Is his fever back?" She peered past him into the dimly lit room.
"I just gave him some medicine," he said, his gaze fixed on her, heavy and intense.
"Can I see him for a second?" Scarlett asked.
Ambrose stepped aside. She moved past him and knelt by the bed, gently placing her hand on Hayden's forehead. She picked up a dry washcloth from the nightstand and tenderly dabbed the sweat from his brow. The entire act was a portrait of gentle, maternal love—a stark contrast to the icy courtesy she showed him.
After a moment, she stood up and walked back to the door.
"He's starting to sweat it out," she told Ambrose, who was blocking the doorway. "Keep an eye on him. Call me if anything changes."
He didn't move.
She looked at him again, a hint of impatience in her eyes. "I need to get back to bed."
Ambrose finally shifted, but as she stepped into the hallway, he followed, his hand shooting out to wrap around her waist. He pulled her flush against his chest, his body a warm, solid wall at her back.
"I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair. "What I said today, I didn't mean it. I was just pissed that you were trying to draw a line between us, to keep things so transactional."
Scarlett's body went rigid. After a long pause, she said, "Let me go, Ambrose. I need to sleep."
"Can't you forgive me?" His voice was low, laced with a raw plea that scraped at her defenses.
She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to soften. "You don't have to apologize. It's my fault. I'm the one who chose this path, and I need to be able to handle the consequences. My skin is just too thin. This is what our relationship is. There are no unspeakable words."
Ambrose spun her around to face him, his eyes blazing. "Then tell me what I have to do to make you stop being angry."
Scarlett dropped her gaze, a sigh escaping her lips. "Ambrose, you really don't have to do this. I'm not angry. We should go back to our designated roles."
The rest of her words were swallowed by his mouth. He kissed her fiercely, desperately, as if he could erase her cutting words with the force of his own. He was trying to silence the part of her that wanted to push him away, the part that he had so carelessly wounded.
He didn't know how long they stood there, locked together in the silent hallway. When he finally pulled back, Scarlett's cheeks were flushed a deep red, her icy composure melted away by the heat of the kiss. A flicker of relief went through him.
"We'll talk about this later," he said, his voice rough. "Go get some sleep."
Scarlett didn't want to talk. She just wanted to escape. She turned and fled to her room without another word. Ambrose remained in the hallway, staring at her closed door, a feeling of profound regret churning in his gut.
He's really out of his mind to say something like that, and now she's retreated back into her cold shell.
Childhood illnesses, thankfully, came and went with surprising speed. By the next day, Hayden's fever was gone. Though he was still a little sniffly and had a cough, his energy had mostly returned.
Scarlett took the day off to stay home with the kids. Her workload was piling up, but there were no urgent meetings, and she could revise the interior layout designs from her home office.
The two kids, despite their lingering symptoms, were in high spirits, playing a card game together in the living room.
Scarlett, on the other hand, was in the study revising her design drafts. At noon, Ambrose called to ask about the child, and then mentioned the matter of Brielle's suicide.
"They saved her. She woke up screaming that she wanted to die. The doctors say she's having a complete psychotic break."
A weary sigh escaped Scarlett. It was exactly as she'd feared. Brielle would use a mental health defense to escape legal consequences.
"But even if she avoids prison," Ambrose continued, his voice hard, "she'll be committed to a psychiatric hospital. And trust me, some of those places are worse than jail."
"Okay," Scarlett said quietly. "I understand."
No sooner had she hung up than her phone rang again. It was Tatum, and he was furious.
"Are you happy now, Scarlett?" He yelled into the phone. "You've pushed Brielle so far she's lost her mind! How can you be so cruel?"
"She brought this on herself," Scarlett retorted, her voice turning to ice. "Don't you dare say I pushed her. If she hadn't done such a monstrous thing, would any of this have happened? What about my son? He's the one who's truly suffering! We don't even know where he is or if he's being hurt. Brielle wanted peace? She'll never have it."
"Don't you lecture me! I'm just telling you, if Brielle suffers, you're not getting off easy either."
"Is that a threat? I'd like to see you try."
She ended the call, gripping her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white, her eyes cold with fury.
Later that afternoon, a frantic call came from her best friend, Briar.
"Scarlett, there are revelations about you online, saying that you had an affair during your marriage and gave birth to someone else's child."
Scarlett's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"Just look! There's a video of Opal at the preschool, screaming that you're an adulteress. It's going viral. You need to call Ambrose and get him to shut this down."