Chapter 72 Ambrose, Scarlett's Daughter Is Yours
"If I'm going down, you're coming with me. This is all your fault." Wesley's eyes blazed with fury as he glared at Scarlett, then his expression twisted into something uglier—pain mixed with rage.
"You think I wanted any of this? You pushed me into it. If you'd just helped me with those design drafts, none of this would've happened. I'm suffering too."
Scarlett's laugh was sharp and humorless. "You're pathetic. I was willing to end this civilly, but you just had to back me into a corner. Well, I'm done compromising."
"If you keep this up, I won't go down alone."
Wesley's smile turned sinister. "But before I do, I'll make sure your daughter gets a taste of what's coming first."
The threats kept coming, wave after wave. Scarlett's jaw tightened. People like Wesley only understood one language—total destruction. Strip him of everything, and maybe then he'd learn to keep his mouth shut.
Her expression went ice-cold. Done talking, she pulled out her phone and dialed building security.
"Security? I have an intruder in my apartment, unit 1309. He's making violent threats. Get someone up here now."
Wesley's teeth ground together audibly. "Real classy, Scarlett. Since you won't play nice, let me remind you—once the news about you and Ambrose last night gets out, you think you'll have a moment's peace?"
"I'm a single woman. He's a single man. We didn't break any laws or moral codes." Scarlett's voice dripped with contempt. "You, on the other hand, are toxic to the core. I can't wait to see how this ends for you."
She'd met shameless people before, but Wesley took it to a whole new level.
She couldn't give him even the slightest chance to recover. Not if she wanted a life free from his shadow.
Wesley bolted before security arrived. When the guards showed up, they apologized profusely, swearing they'd tighten building access protocols.
Word reached Ambrose within the hour. He was in the backseat of his car, headed to the office, when his assistant relayed the incident. The temperature in the vehicle seemed to drop ten degrees. Without a word, he dialed Scarlett's number.
Scarlett had just finished calming her daughter down and was back in her room, about to take another shower before bed, when her phone lit up with Ambrose's name.
She hesitated, then answered.
"Wesley came to see you. Did he hurt you?"
Two seconds of silence. "No."
Ambrose was quiet for another beat. "Next time something like this happens, call me first."
Scarlett paused, then finally replied, "Okay."
"Get some rest," he said, his voice softer.
After hanging up, Scarlett headed for the bathroom. On his end, Ambrose immediately called Chase with new orders: blacklist the Ross Group. No room to breathe.
Within forty-eight hours, the Ross Group was hemorrhaging from every angle. Supply chains froze. Contracts evaporated. Then came the tax audit—federal investigators crawling through every ledger. The company's books were a disaster waiting to be exposed, and it took less than a week for the cracks to turn into chasms.
The Ross Group began imploding from within. The whole operation was on life support.
Wesley knew exactly who was behind it. Ambrose was going for the kill. Desperate, he reached out to Ulysses for backup, but Ulysses was dealing with his own Ambrose-sized problems and had no bandwidth for Wesley's mess.
Left with no options, Wesley tried to approach Delta, hoping she could broker some kind of peace with Ambrose. But Mason blocked him at every turn.
Cornered, Wesley was blindsided when Felix showed up at his office—Scarlett's attorney, demanding forty percent of the Ross Group's shares.
The moment Wesley saw Felix, he knew. Ambrose sent him. His laugh was bitter and cold.
"Felix, you're handling Scarlett's divorce case, right? Did she happen to mention that her daughter isn't actually mine?"
Felix's mind raced—What? Whose kid is it then? Ambrose's?—but his face remained a mask of professional neutrality. He fixed Wesley with a hard stare.
"Mr. Ross, I'd be careful about making accusations you can't back up."
Wesley had nothing left to lose. Might as well burn it all down. "We can run a DNA test if you don't believe me. And when this goes to court, I'll win."
Felix's expression didn't flicker, though his thoughts were spinning.
"Mr. Ross, true or not, you signed a divorce settlement. That means you acknowledged Ms. Mellon's contributions to the Ross Group during your marriage. The agreement doesn't hold you responsible for the child. Ms. Mellon is only asking for compensation for years of unpaid labor." He paused, letting the next part sink in. "Plus, we have evidence of your infidelity. Including what you did on your wedding night."
Felix's smile was razor-sharp. "So tell me—what are your odds, really?"
Wesley just stared. Felix had said what he came to say. He stood, preparing to leave.
"Moving forward, have your attorney contact me directly. And if you show up anywhere near my client again, we'll add harassment to the list of charges. Remember that."
As Felix reached the door, a thought occurred to him. He turned back. "You said Ms. Mellon's daughter isn't yours. So who's the father?"
Wesley's laugh was ugly. "Ask her yourself. Though who knows—maybe she doesn't even know." His sneer deepened. "Felix, a woman like that, loose morals and all, and you're still representing her? Aren't you worried about your reputation?"
"Mr. Ross, I don't really care about that stuff." Felix's tone was flat. "What I care about is clients who can pay."
He turned and walked out.
The second he cleared the Ross Group building, Felix pulled out his phone and called Ambrose.
"Ambrose, is Scarlett's daughter yours?"
A few seconds of silence. Then Ambrose's voice, carefully neutral. "What did Wesley tell you?"
Felix walked briskly toward his car, the midday sun beating down. "He said Ms. Mellon's daughter isn't his. Didn't say anything else."
"He's just trying to weasel out of the settlement. You're a top-tier attorney—you're not actually worried about that, are you?"
Felix went quiet.
He just wanted to know the truth. But clearly Ambrose wasn't offering it. And now he was deflecting with reverse psychology.
"Nice try, but that doesn't work on me." He reached his car, clicked the key fob, and slid into the driver's seat.
"Are you serious this time?" Felix asked, settling behind the wheel.
"When have I ever not been serious?"
"Scarlett's Owen's daughter. You know that, right? Your son's mother is from the family Owen despises most. You really want to walk into that mess?" Felix's voice dropped.
"I know what I'm doing. Just help her." Ambrose's tone was cool, unreadable.
Felix and Ambrose went way back—far enough that Felix could say things like this without consequences.
"Fine. If you've thought it through, I'll make sure she gets what she's owed." He paused. "But if you're already dismantling the Ross Group, by the time Wesley hands over those shares, they won't be worth much. You're burning the payout before she can cash it. Maybe hold off on the scorched-earth approach until after the settlement clears?"
Felix could be even more ruthless when he wanted to be.