Chapter 25 Saying He Likes Her
When Yara said this, she was trying to help Ambrose win Scarlett's favor so she'd eventually let her eat candy. But instead, Scarlett's frown deepened, her expression darkening. Yara's voice turned anxious. "Mommy, are you mad?"
Scarlett snapped back to reality, looking down at Yara's innocent, cherubic face. She realized it was time to teach her daughter some protective wisdom—she couldn't let Yara end up deceived, as she had been.
After a moment's thought, she crouched down to meet Yara's eyes, her tone turning earnest.
"Yara, you need to remember—pretty words can't always be trusted."
"Why not?" Yara tilted her head, confusion written all over her face.
Scarlett paused for two seconds, then drew from a familiar story. "Remember Snow White?"
Yara nodded enthusiastically, and Scarlett continued, "Snow White ate that poisoned apple because it looked prettier than all the others. If those dwarves carrying her hadn't stumbled and knocked that apple loose from her throat, she would've died right there."
Yara nodded slowly, processing. "So... pretty things are poisonous?"
"Not necessarily poisonous, but definitely not always safe." Scarlett explained.
Yara puffed out her cheeks, declaring solemnly, "Don't worry, Mommy. I'll never let anyone's pretty words poison me. I'll only listen to your pretty words, and I'll only say pretty words to you."
A laugh escaped Scarlett at her daughter's adorable earnestness. She reached out to ruffle Yara's hair. "You're such a smart girl. Go play now—Mommy needs to make lunch."
But Yara's little legs stayed planted. "Mommy, Ambrose said he wants to make up for the candy from last time. Can I have it?"
Scarlett had overheard Yara's earlier negotiation tactics. Not wanting her daughter's efforts to go to waste, she made an exception.
"You can have it this time, but you can't let him pay you back again. There's no such thing as a second do-over."
Relief flooded Yara's face as she nodded vigorously. "Okay, Mommy! Just this last time. I won't eat any more after this."
With that, Yara bounced happily out of the kitchen. Scarlett straightened up, watching her daughter's small retreating figure, shaking her head with a fond smile. Then she pulled eggs and pasta from the fridge and got to work on lunch.
Her hands stayed busy, but her mind wandered restlessly. The more she replayed Yara's words, the more uneasy she felt. She found herself muttering under her breath.
"Ambrose isn't interested in women, so why would he say he likes me?"
"Must've been a joke he told Yara, right?"
The entire kitchen conversation reached Ambrose's ears through the phone line, crystal clear. He sat in his office, phone pressed to his ear, his expression inscrutable.
When he heard Scarlett's murmured speculation, he responded quietly.
"What if it's not a joke? What then?"
Scarlett stood at the counter washing a pot, the phone volume turned low. She didn't notice—didn't hear his question over the running water.
When she didn't respond, Ambrose hung up. He immediately called back, but the line was busy. Expressionless, he tossed his phone onto the desk.
On Scarlett's end, just as she was about to start cooking, Wesley called about their divorce filing.
"Two-thirty this afternoon at the courthouse, then." Her tone was flat.
"Fine. But you still need to handle Aiden's contract situation. The company can't afford the breach penalty."
Scarlett leaned against the counter, silent for two seconds, as if something clicked into place. Her position turned firm. "I'm not a Ross Group employee anymore. Ross Group business has nothing to do with me."
"You're the one who created this mess."
"You forced me to sign it."
They went back and forth, neither giving an inch.
Wesley finally lowered his voice. "Just talk to Aiden. If he were willing to sign, he'll do you this favor. I've agreed to all your conditions—Aiden's situation, you have to resolve."
"I've been blacklisted. Why would he do me any favors?" Scarlett refused to budge.
Seeing her stonewalling, Wesley's patience evaporated. "I don't care. You fix this mess, then we'll file for divorce."
Was he threatening her?
He was even more eager to dissolve their marriage than she was—now that the Powell family could boost his career the way her family once had.
She was about to argue back when, somehow, the forty percent stock share came to mind. After a moment's consideration, she said, "I can pay Aiden's breach penalty, but you have to give me the cash equivalent for that forty percent stock share first. Once I get the money, I'll pay the penalty."
Wesley went quiet for two seconds, disbelief coloring his voice. "You mean... convert the forty percent share into cash?"
"Yes."
Wesley was more than willing. Ross Group's market value would only rise with development—keeping shares in Scarlett's hands would let her profit without lifting a finger. He agreed readily.
"Deal. We'll calculate the shares at market value, but payment comes after we get the divorce certificate. And you'll need to sign an agreement—the moment you receive the money, you immediately pay Aiden's penalty."
"Fine," Scarlett agreed.
This negotiation was the smoothest communication they'd had in ages.
They arranged to finalize the agreement that afternoon at the courthouse when filing for divorce. As the call was ending, Scarlett reminded him about her salary. Wesley said the finance department would transfer it that afternoon.
When she hung up, Scarlett finally saw light at the end of the divorce tunnel.
As for Aiden's situation—that wasn't a big deal. Once she got the divorce certificate, she'd design the project for Aiden. That would resolve everything.
What she really needed to focus on was getting that stock money.
The divorce agreement was signed, sure, but actually getting the shares would probably involve endless complications. Better to swap it out through this deal with Wesley and eliminate future headaches.
The smooth sailing continued into the afternoon. At the courthouse, filing for divorce went seamlessly—less than twenty minutes, and they were walking back out.
As they left, her salary hit her account. Seeing those digits in the text notification, warmth spread through Scarlett's chest.
For the first time, she truly understood the pure joy of making money.
With a full year's salary as compensation in hand, Scarlett rushed home, grabbed Yara, and headed to the supermarket to stock up for a proper celebration dinner.
"Mommy, I want ice cream." As mother and daughter passed the frozen section, Yara sat in the shopping cart, gazing longingly at the freezer.
Normally, Scarlett banned frozen treats for Yara, especially ice cream. But today—with divorce within reach and her severance pay secured—her mood was better than it had been in forever. She relented.
"Just one." She pushed the cart toward the freezer, opened the glass door, and pulled out a single ice cream bar.
They moved on to the meat section, then produce. Scarlett loaded up the cart with ingredients. When they reached the seafood section, a harsh voice cut through the air, growing increasingly cruel.
Scarlett glanced up to see a cleaning woman being berated by store employees, bowing repeatedly under the verbal assault. Suddenly, recognition hit her like a physical blow.
She froze, staring at the cleaning woman.