Chapter 55 Secret Jealousy
Scarlett was summoned by Mason. Standing beside his car, she heard him speak.
"Ms. Mellon, I've looked into your relationship with Wesley. You two were together since college, yet you told Delta that you had no feelings for him—that he only married you out of obligation. Did Wesley force you to say that?"
Scarlett stood there, her gaze cool and detached as she studied Mason. He'd clearly dug deep into her past. This visit wasn't casual—he'd come prepared. After a moment's consideration, she spoke.
"Mr. Powell, Wesley and I are husband and wife in name only. I swear on everything that's true—not a single lie. He's never even kissed me, let alone fulfilled any marital... obligations. The truth is, I forced him into this marriage because I had feelings for him, using the fact that he owed me. But after all these years, I've realized that one-sided love doesn't work. I've let go. Now that he's met someone he actually cares about, I'm willing to end this sham of a marriage."
Every word rang with quiet sincerity.
Mason studied her for a long moment before pressing further. "I know you have a child. That child isn't Wesley's?"
At the mention of Yara, Scarlett's hands clenched into fists at her sides. After what felt like an eternity, her expression turned glacial. "Mr. Powell, I've told you everything I needed to say. There's no need for these invasive questions. If you don't believe me, there's nothing more I can do. I'm leaving."
She turned on her heel, but only made it two steps before Mason's voice stopped her.
"Ms. Mellon, you're a mother yourself. Then surely you can understand a father wanting to know exactly what kind of person his daughter is planning to marry."
"Bottom line—Wesley and I have no romantic relationship whatsoever. You could call it a marriage of convenience. What you choose to do with that information is your business." Scarlett threw the words over her shoulder and headed straight for her car without another backward glance.
Once inside, she collapsed against the steering wheel, drained.
Why did her divorce have to drag Yara's parentage into the spotlight? Why was ending this marriage so impossibly hard?
At this rate, would she ever be free?
Scarlett spent the following days consumed by that worry, counting down to when she could finally get the divorce papers. The calm felt eerie—too quiet—setting her nerves on edge.
Sure enough, the day before their scheduled appointment, Zane called demanding to see her.
Scarlett had zero desire to see anyone from the Ross family until those papers were in her hands.
"If you don't meet me, Wesley won't sign tomorrow. You can forget about your divorce." Zane's threat came through loud and clear.
Scarlett closed her eyes and drew in a sharp breath. "The divorce agreement is already signed. Even if he backs out, I'll take him to court and get my divorce."
"Scarlett, how can you be so heartless? Wesley doesn't want this divorce, but you keep pushing and pushing—now demanding half his assets too. Just because you've got someone backing you up doesn't mean we're powerless. Let me make this crystal clear: if you want this divorce, you're not taking Yara."
Zane, wielding Yara as leverage, always sent Scarlett into a tailspin. She forced herself to breathe, trying to steady her racing thoughts.
"We haven't had feelings for each other in years. All that's left is mutual torture. And now he's found someone he actually loves."
"We can't accept that Powell girl—too much drama, not worth the headache. Honestly, we've always been perfectly happy with you. You're the one constantly threatening divorce. Scarlett, could you please stop being so stubborn and just make this marriage work with Wesley?"
The words hit her like ice water. Wesley and Delta had broken up?
Had Delta refused to forgive him after learning the truth that day?
Had Mason not believed anything Scarlett told him?
"Wesley doesn't want the divorce, Scarlett. He has feelings for you. If you just agree to stay married, I promise he'll settle down. You have my word."
Zane kept talking, but Scarlett had lost all interest in this conversation. She needed to talk to Wesley directly.
"The divorce is happening. Period. The agreement's already signed. Look, I'm busy right now. We can discuss this another time."
She ended the call and immediately tried Wesley's number.
No answer.
Her anxiety spiked, but then she remembered the signed divorce agreement in her possession. She forced herself to breathe slower, steadier.
With that document, even if he refused to sign tomorrow, she could take him to court. She'd get her freedom. No need to panic.
She kept repeating that mantra, but the reassurance felt increasingly hollow. After turning it over in her mind endlessly, she finally called Ambrose.
Since that night when he'd left her place, Ambrose had been a ghost—no visits, no calls.
He was clearly bothered by what she'd said that evening.
But their arrangement—her divorce in exchange for his help—that was the deal. Calling him about this wasn't out of line.
Three rings, then a male voice answered. "Hello?"
Not Ambrose. It sounded like Chase, though she couldn't be certain. "Hi, this is Scarlett. I need to speak with Mr. Boleyn."
"Ms. Mellon, Mr. Boleyn is currently in a meeting. Is there something I can help you with, or should I pass along a message?"
Scarlett wasn't about to spill the details to his assistant. "Just let him know I called and that it's urgent. I need him to call me back when he's free."
The person on the other end didn't push. "Will do."
The person who'd answered Ambrose's phone was indeed Chase. After hanging up, he turned to look at his boss. "Mr. Boleyn, Ms. Mellon sounded like she really needs to talk to you. Urgently."
He let the implication hang in the air—basically saying Ambrose should return the call—but Ambrose remained seated, the picture of nonchalance, pretending to focus on the documents in front of him.
"Got it. I'll call her back in a bit."
Chase shook his head in exasperation. Ambrose hadn't been to Lakeside Garden in weeks. At first, Chase assumed work was keeping him away, but lately, his boss's mood had become volcanic—unpredictable and dangerous. Plus, he kept checking his phone like he was waiting for something. Chase's money was on Scarlett being the source.
Now it was obvious.
But here she was, actually calling, and Ambrose was playing hard to get.
Chase and Ambrose went way back, so he felt comfortable speaking his mind. "Mr. Boleyn, if Ms. Mellon said something that rubbed you the wrong way, why hold a grudge? She's still married, so obviously her head's focused on the divorce. Whatever's bothering you, wait until after she's free to deal with it."
Ambrose looked up, his gaze cooling several degrees. "You two pretty close?"
Chase frowned. "What relationship could I possibly have with her? I'm trying to help you."
"Could've fooled me. You're defending her left and right." Ambrose's stare turned predatory, locked on Chase like a hawk.
The intensity made Chase uncomfortable. "I just think she's had it rough—single woman dealing with all this mess."
"Playing the white knight, are we?"
Chase immediately threw up his hands in surrender. "Fine, my bad for caring."
He beat a hasty retreat, not wanting to stick around and have Ambrose somehow twist this into Chase having designs on Scarlett. That was a mess he wanted no part of.
Alone again, Ambrose sat in his chair, staring at his phone for a long moment before finally returning her call.