Chapter 2 Daniel, Let's Get a Divorce
Scarlett watched them walking side by side, a sight that hollowed her chest.
No wonder he didn't even flinch when she mentioned divorce. His ex-girlfriend Alice was back.
Daniel closed the distance in long strides, his eyes sweeping over her pale, drawn face. His brows pulled tight. "Are you feeling sick?"
Alice came up beside him, catching Scarlett's hand with a warmth that felt almost rehearsed. "Your hand is freezing. Did you get the wrong idea? It's my birthday today. I haven't been home in four years, and my parents insisted on throwing a party. I ate some cake and ended up with a stomachache, so Daniel brought me here..."
Scarlett's hand slipped from Alice's grip so fast it left her reaching at nothing. Daniel's gaze shifted, a quiet shadow of disapproval crossing his eyes.
She saw it. And bitterness rose, sharp and heavy.
She and Alice shared the same birthday. Daniel hadn't forgotten hers. He hadn't failed to buy a gift. He simply had someone else to celebrate with.
Scarlett curved her lips into something that passed for a smile. Rising on her toes, she plucked the glowing headband from Daniel's hair. "Not your style." She flicked it into a trash bin without looking.
Alice's smile cracked.
"Elliot's sick. He's in the children's ward. This is his medical report." Scarlett pressed the paper into Daniel's hand and turned away. Her steps quickened.
She left the clinic but glanced back once more. Daniel was walking Alice upstairs. He never looked at her.
Her eyes stung. She spun around too fast and collided with someone.
Scarlett hit the floor. A sharp, familiar voice scolded above her. "Watch where you're going, young lady!"
"Come on, Alice's waiting," another voice urged.
Blinking through the ache, she caught only the backs of a couple hurrying away—Reid Brown and Thora White.
Memory flared. When she was a child, Reid had carried her into the hospital in the middle of the night. Thora would hold her hand and whisper, "Scarlett, sweetheart, we're here."
She and Alice had once been switched at birth. When the truth came out, the families traded their daughters back.
At six, Scarlett lost Reid and Thora's love and gained an abusive father, John Lewis, and a selfish mother, Natalia Ruth.
At eight, she nearly died under John's fists. Her ten-year-old brother, James Lewis, carried her, bleeding, to the gates of the Wilson Mansion, begging Magnolia to take her in for old friendship's sake with Kennedy Hope. Daniel had come through the snow to carry her inside.
Sixteen years ago, Alice arrived—and Scarlett lost her home.
Now Alice was back.
It felt like the kind of fate you couldn't outrun. Scarlett could already feel the ground shifting beneath her feet.
She didn't have the strength to hold on anymore.
Late summer. Clouds pressed low, branches overhead still green, and the wind had a bite.
Scarlett hugged her arms and limped along the street. A group of dance students passed, their laughter trailing into the night.
She stopped, watching them pass.
She was six years younger than Daniel. To keep up with him, she'd skipped grades, entering the best dance academy at fifteen.
She graduated at eighteen. Beatrice Grace had urged her to study abroad, but she'd turned it down.
For four years, she had done only one thing—wait for Daniel.
She waited for him to marry her, guarding the shell of their marriage day after day, year after year.
She was only twenty-two, yet compared to her peers' bright, reckless youth, she felt as if she had already reached the end of her road.
Last month, Ramon Meza told her that world-class choreographer Vivienne Mae was looking for students—a rare chance. He could get her an interview.
She had hesitated. Tonight, she knew her answer.
A taxi pulled up, horn snapping her from her thoughts. The driver leaned out. "Need a ride?"
Scarlett stepped off the curb. "I don't have cash. Will this work? Platinum with diamonds."
She slipped a small stud from her ear and held it out.
Even a layman could see it was valuable. The driver took it. "Get in."
She gave her address. He turned the earring in his fingers. "Regal Estate? Must be nice. This could sell for a fortune."
Scarlett leaned against the window, eyes closed. "Seven figures."
He laughed. "Madam, you're joking."
She didn't answer. Her mind drifted.
She was twelve then, at the age when girls start wanting pretty things. She'd planned to get her ears pierced with Sarah Johnson. But Natalia had once stabbed her with a needle, leaving a fear she couldn't shake. She'd failed three times. Still, she envied girls with sparkling studs.
Daniel, studying abroad in Astoria, had heard about it. That Christmas, he came back with an ear-piercing gun, told her it was a toy.
He brushed back her hair, pressed the gun to her ear, and before she could react, it was done.
She'd chased him, fists pounding his back. "You're impossible!"
He turned, and she stumbled into his arms. In the sunlight, he bent down, fingertips brushing the tears from her eyes. "Scarlett, you're such a baby."
Later, Daniel had commissioned renowned designer Elisha Fife to create a custom pair of studs for her—his last work before retirement, worth at least seven figures.
She never wore jewelry, but she had worn those earrings for ten years.
Ten years... She'd thought they were part of her, fused into bone. Letting them go wasn't as painful as she'd imagined.
On a giant screen at the corner, gossip news played. Reporters had caught Alice at the airport, asking about her love life.
"There's a man I love deeply. Four years ago, we separated because of a misunderstanding. But I believe true lovers always find their way back."
She smiled at Daniel beside her. The reporter, emboldened, turned the microphone. "Mr. Wilson, is Ms. Brown's beloved man you?"
Daniel signaled his bodyguards forward, shielding Alice as they walked away.
Scarlett looked away, lips curling in bitter amusement. True lovers... how beautiful.
"Madam," the driver said suddenly, "there's a car behind us. Chasing you?"
Scarlett turned. A black Bentley was closing in, its flashy vanity plate unmistakable.
In seconds, it accelerated, tires shrieking as it swung across their path. The driver slammed the brakes. Scarlett lurched forward, then was snapped back by the seatbelt, her vision swimming.
A knock sounded at the window—slow, deliberate—echoing in her ears like a deep toll.
She gripped the seatbelt, knuckles white, refusing to turn.
Daniel's lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze swept to the driver. The man flinched under the icy stare and unlocked the door.
Daniel opened it, bent down, and leaned in. He unfastened her seatbelt, bracing one hand against the seat as he turned toward her.
He was close enough that his breath brushed her lips. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her.
Instead, he let out a short, cold laugh. "Scarlett, playing dead?"
Her chest ached. She turned her head. "Aren't you with your first love? So how come you've got time to see me?"
Her voice was hoarse. He didn't catch it. Without another word, he lifted her out of the car.
"Put me down!" she struggled.
"Stay still!" His hand locked under her, fingers pressing into her hip until she went still.
"What happened to your foot?" His voice was low and sharp.
Scarlett pulled off her sneakers. The bandage was stained through with blood.
She stayed silent. His expression hardened as he pushed her into the backseat and climbed in after her.
The door slammed shut, filling the cramped space with the weight of his presence.
She shifted, but his hand came up, brushing her hair aside. His gaze dropped to her bare earlobe, suddenly razor-sharp.
"Where's your earring?"
He caught her soft earlobe between his fingers, rubbing it hard.
"Lost it..." she hissed.
Daniel released her only to grip her chin, turning her face toward him.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the taxi speeding away, disappearing around the corner—taking with it the last, worn pieces of her heart.
His voice was tight with anger. "What do you mean, lost?"
Her eyes burned. Her voice was steady. "Lost means I don't want it anymore. Daniel, I'm not joking, and I'm not being petty. I want a divorce."
The earrings he gave her—she didn't want them.
And him... she didn't want him either.