Chapter 37 Nausea Returns
The light turned green. Scarlett eased off the brake, and the car rolled forward. She hadn't gone far when traffic slowed to a crawl, forcing her to tap the brakes again.
The impact slammed through her car like a shockwave. Her body lurched forward, chest colliding hard with the steering wheel. Pain exploded across her ribs, stealing her breath.
She jammed down the brake pedal.
Slumped over the wheel, she fought to fill her lungs. Just as the world stopped spinning, someone rapped on her window.
She looked up.
Through the glass, a face came into focus—sharp features, flawless makeup, that same calculating gleam in her eyes.
Brielle.
Years had passed, but Scarlett would recognize that look anywhere. That predatory smile, the way her gaze dissected everyone like prey.
And right now? That look screamed planned.
This wasn't an accident. Brielle had rear-ended her on purpose.
But why?
Scarlett's chest throbbed. Each breath felt like broken glass.
The knocking intensified—insistent, demanding. Brielle wasn't going anywhere until Scarlett got out.
Fine.
Scarlett steadied herself, then reached for the door handle.
She stepped out in her heels, instantly towering over Brielle. Looking down at her felt... satisfying.
"Rear-ending someone? You know what kind of liability that is, right?"
It was eleven in the morning in mid-May, Silverlight City. The sun blazed overhead like a fireball, heat radiating off the asphalt in waves.
Despite her white sun hat, Brielle seemed to freeze under Scarlett's icy stare. For a second, confusion flickered across her face.
Same annoying face, Brielle thought. But something's different. Her vibe. She's not the pushover I remember.
Brielle's lips curved into a smirk. She crossed her arms, chin lifted in that trademark arrogant pose—but her voice dripped with fake sweetness.
"I didn't mean to. Why are you being so aggressive right off the bat?"
Classic Brielle. Act superior while playing victim.
Scarlett wasn't buying it.
"'Didn't mean to' or 'absolutely meant to'?" Scarlett's voice was blade-sharp. "Your little games might fool other people. They don't fool me."
Without waiting for a response, she leaned into her car, grabbed her phone, and dialed right in front of Brielle.
"Yes, hi. I'm on Willow Street. Someone just hit my car. I need an officer here, please."
She hung up and fixed Brielle with a cold stare.
"Wait for the cops."
She turned to get back in her car.
"Wow." Brielle's laugh was sharp and mocking. "Few years later, and you've got quite the attitude. Marriage not working out for you?"
She flicked her hair dramatically. "Tell you what—name your price. How much do you want?"
Scarlett stopped mid-step. Turned around. Her gaze could've cut steel.
"Spending my dad's money to act rich in front of me? That's literally the only move you've got." Her smile was arctic. "Don't worry. When the police get here, they'll calculate exactly what you owe."
Brielle tossed her hair again, smug. "My mom took care of you and your dad for ten years. That money? Barely covers her labor costs."
"You want to talk math?" Scarlett's voice was dangerously calm. "Then let's add up ten years of you two living in my house, eating our food, using our utilities. Don't worry—I'll get you an itemized bill real soon."
She walked to the back of her car and snapped photos of the damage, methodically documenting every dent and scrape.
Then she got back in her car without another glance at Brielle. Like she didn't exist.
Standing alone under the blistering sun, Brielle ground her teeth, glaring daggers at Scarlett's car. Finally, she stomped back to her own vehicle.
Inside her car, Scarlett took a shaky breath and pulled out her phone.
JoyfulJourney: [Guess who I just ran into. Brielle.]
The reply was instant.
QuirkyVibes: [WHERE?? What happened??]
JoyfulJourney: [Middle of the road. She rear-ended me. On purpose.]
QuirkyVibes: [ON PURPOSE?! Oh hell no. Bleed her dry. Get back every cent her mom stole from your family.]
JoyfulJourney: [Maybe if I were driving a Rolls-Royce...]
QuirkyVibes: [Ask Ambrose to lend you one. He'd say yes in a heartbeat.]
JoyfulJourney: [That's actually an option?]
Texting with Briar helped. By the time she looked up, a patrol car had arrived.
A male officer approached. "Who called this in?"
Scarlett stepped forward. "I did."
The officer glanced up—then froze for a solid two seconds. He cleared his throat and looked back down at his notepad.
"Name and phone number."
"Scarlett. 13—"
"Anyone injured?"
"I am. Chest impact."
He looked up again, frowning. "Want me to call an ambulance?"
Before Scarlett could answer, Brielle sauntered over.
"She's standing here talking just fine. She's probably faking it to scam me!"
The officer's head whipped toward Brielle, his expression hardening.
"When you were busy ramming into her car, did you stop to think maybe you'd be the one getting scammed?"
Scarlett blinked.
Brielle's mouth snapped shut.
Another officer approached. "Ruben, we're done with the scene."
Ruben nodded, then addressed both women. "If you two aren't settling this privately, we're taking it to the station."
"I'll settle privately!" Brielle said quickly.
"I won't." Scarlett's tone was ice. Final.
She had time. And if Brielle wanted to play dirty? Fine. Let her face the consequences.
At the station, Scarlett's statement was filed quickly. She mentioned the chest pain and requested a medical exam.
Ruben personally drove her to the hospital. As she stepped out, he rattled off his number.
"If the exam shows anything, call me. Your car was intentionally hit."
Scarlett nodded politely. "Thanks. I trust you'll handle this fairly."
The subtext was clear: Don't favor me. But don't favor her either.
Ruben huffed a quiet laugh as she walked away. Once she disappeared through the hospital doors, he pulled out his phone.
The call connected immediately. A flat, emotionless voice answered.
"What."
"Mr. Boleyn, could you sound a little more human? That tone's gonna give me nightmares."
"If you're this easily scared, quit being a cop and stay home."
Ruben sighed. He'd known Ambrose Boleyn since childhood—this was just how he was.
"Guess who I just ran into."
"Don't waste my time."
Of course.
"Fine. Traffic accident today. The victim?" Ruben paused. "Scarlett. The actress you blacklisted."
There was a beat of silence. Then Ambrose's voice shifted—just slightly. "She was in an accident?"
"Got rear-ended. I just dropped her at the hospital. She's hurt." Ruben hesitated, then added, "I'd heard of her before, but seeing her in person? Man. She makes every socialite in Silverlight City look like extras."
"You're at the hospital?"
"Outside. She just went in."
Ambrose's response was immediate.
"Follow her."