Chapter 75 The Person Who Made Her Lose Her Innocence Is You
Felix had been thinking about it—last time he'd asked Ambrose, the guy had dodged the question completely. Time for a proper interrogation.
Ruben, sitting nearby, nearly choked on his drink. His eyes went wide as saucers. "Wait—Ambrose, you're the one who slept with Ms. Mellon?"
Ambrose shot them both a cool glance, his expression flat and unreadable. Instead of answering, he raised his glass and took a long drink.
Watching Ambrose's face, Ruben quickly figured out the truth wasn't quite that simple. If Ambrose really had been the one, he'd be over the moon—not sitting there looking like someone had pissed in his whiskey.
"Come on, drink up." Ruben raised his glass, clinking it against theirs.
Felix realized he wasn't getting anywhere with Ambrose's lockjaw routine, so he let it drop. He lifted his own glass, and the three of them toasted, downing several rounds. Eventually, the conversation drifted to Ulysses. The whole blowup Ambrose had caused—and yet he hadn't actually destroyed the guy. That surprised the hell out of Felix and Ruben.
Normally, Ambrose didn't give a damn about anyone's feelings. He operated purely on his own mood, and his methods were brutal enough that he'd clawed his way to power in the Boleyn family in record time.
"Ambrose, Ulysses owes Ms. Mellon a thank-you card," Felix said, swirling his drink. "Otherwise, he'd be dead or crippled right now."
Felix's implication was that because of Scarlett, Ambrose had pulled his punches because of Scarlett.
Ruben snorted. "Ulysses is only this cocky because his family's about to move up in the world. Someone from their clan is about to take a leadership position."
"Silverlight City's getting new leadership? Really the Mitchell family?" Felix's face darkened, his grip tightening on his glass.
Ruben nodded. "The paperwork's already been filed. Won't be long now before he takes office."
Felix's lip curled with contempt. "They've certainly climbed fast."
"No kidding," Ruben said, turning his head. "They've been riding the Reynolds family's coattails all the way to the top."
Felix took a sip, his gaze drifting toward Ambrose thoughtfully. "So the Mitchell family will be relocating to Silverlight City soon."
"Probably," Ruben replied.
"That's why Ulysses dragged Brielle back—to help him leverage Owen's old connections. The Mitchell family's getting ready for their big move to Silverlight City."
Ruben's words finally caught the attention of Ambrose, who'd been silent this whole time. He looked up sharply. That night, Ulysses had probably planned to go through Scarlett to access Owen's network. What he hadn't counted on was Ambrose making such a dramatic power play to steal her away.
"Ambrose, Ulysses definitely knows by now that Ms. Mellon matters to you. Once the Mitchell family's in power, he's going to come for you. You know that, right?"
Ambrose had picked a fight with the Mitchell family. Retaliation was inevitable.
"I've been itching for a real opponent anyway," Ambrose said casually, completely unfazed. "Could use the thrill of some actual competition."
He clearly didn't consider the Mitchell family a threat.
Felix took another sip, cutting his eyes toward Ambrose with a smirk. "If you want thrills, shouldn't you be finding them in the bedroom?"
Ruben perked up immediately, craning his neck to study Ambrose's face, his tone dripping with mock sympathy.
"Look at all that pent-up frustration on his face. Guess he hasn't had the chance to experience anything yet."
Ambrose said nothing.
Just then, his phone rang. Seeing the number on the screen, he answered immediately.
"What is it?"
"Mr. Boleyn, we've got information on what happened to Ms. Mellon four years ago. Two suspicious points. First, the night Owen died, Ms. Mellon went to the Four Seasons Hotel. But everything that happened there that night—there's zero record of it. Second, Ms. Mellon gave birth to twins. The boy died, only the girl survived. And that same day, the Ross Group received a hundred thousand dollars—enough to save the company from bankruptcy. That money came from Brielle. And she also went to the hospital that day. Nothing obviously suspicious, but the timing's way too convenient." Chase's voice came through the line.
"Start with Brielle," Ambrose said, his tone eerily calm—but beneath the surface, there was murder in his voice. "She's the key to cracking this open."
"I'll keep digging," Chase said.
After hanging up, Chase's words kept echoing in Ambrose's mind. Scarlett's incident happened at the Four Seasons Hotel. He'd also had his own… situation there that same night.
Coincidences weren't usually this coincidental.
"What kind of trouble did Brielle stir up now?" Ruben asked from the side.
Ambrose shook off his thoughts, his expression neutral. "Nothing. Let's drink."
Because of Wesley's situation, Scarlett's start date at the Boleyn Group got pushed back over a week. But eventually, she reported for her first day.
It was pouring rain that morning. Traffic was a nightmare everywhere, so after dropping Yara off at school, Scarlett arrived at the Boleyn Group a full half hour late.
When she showed up at HR, the staff clearly wasn't thrilled about her tardiness. But they didn't give her any grief during the onboarding process.
Scarlett had been parachuted in from above. Until they figured out who was backing her, no one dared make a move.
She walked straight into the design department and took over as head of the new Team One. And the design director wasn't allowed to interfere with her work.
Just a few weeks ago, Scarlett had been blacklisted by Ambrose. Now, suddenly, she'd landed at the Boleyn Group in a major position. Naturally, the design department buzzed with curiosity.
Who the hell was she?
Scarlett's team had four members—five including her. The art museum design was her baby, and she'd be leading the project personally.
Her first morning was spent in her office, organizing the work ahead.
For now, she was only handling the art museum project. The project hadn't been announced publicly yet—after all, multiple companies were fighting for the contract. Ambrose planned to drop a bombshell on bidding day and snatch the whole thing out from under everyone's noses.
That afternoon, she called a team meeting. It was held in secret. When Scarlett pulled out her design mockups in the conference room, all four team members froze.
It was stunning.
But Scarlett felt like something was missing. She just couldn't put her finger on what.
"Ms. Mellon, honestly? This proposal is flawless," one team member said.
"An art museum is all about the artistic feel, right? And I think this design totally captures Silverlight City's identity."
Everyone chimed in with praise.
Scarlett looked at them for a long moment before speaking.
"So tell me—what's the signature element of this design?"
Her question was met with silence.
"The most obvious feature is the diamond-shaped exterior," someone finally offered.
"I want people to hear 'art museum' and immediately think of our museum."
"But clearly, this design doesn't hit that mark yet." Scarlett clicked her laser pointer, addressing the room.
No one could come up with a response. The bar she'd set was sky-high.
"Everyone go back and brainstorm," Scarlett said. "Any ideas are welcome. We'll reconvene in two days."
After the meeting wrapped, Scarlett got word from the design director. There was a welcome dinner that night for the new team. As team leader, her attendance was mandatory.