Chapter 112

Scarlett’s POV

I stepped out of the car, feeling the sea breeze caress my cheeks.

"Look over there," Camila whispered close to my ear, "Alexander is here."

I followed her gaze toward the dock, where guests were gradually boarding the yacht.

Sure enough, I saw Alexander getting out of his car.

He wore an impeccably tailored black suit, a flawless ensemble except for his deliberately provocative choice of a flashy red and green patterned shirt underneath.

A rather gaudy combination, yet somehow on him, it possessed a certain charm.

A feeling that... inexplicably reminded me of our nights together in bed.

Turbulent emotions seized control of my rationality, entangling me as I struggled to return to reality.

Yet my gaze stubbornly remained fixed on him.

He wore an unassuming diamond stud in his right ear, and around his neck... he was actually wearing the pearl necklace he had taken from me last time.

Was he eager for others to discover our relationship?

Nevertheless, my attention was drawn to the woman accompanying Alexander.

Lillian...

Of course. No matter what happened, the place by Alexander's side ultimately belonged to Lillian.

A wave of bitter emotion swept over me, but I immediately suppressed it.

"Stop staring," Camila warned, "Richard is coming. Remember your place."

Her words interrupted my momentary distraction, and I straightened my posture.

The door of the limousine opened, and Richard stepped out.

The crowd immediately parted, making way for him.

His gaze swept across the gathered people, finally locking onto me.

I hurriedly walked toward Richard. As I passed by Alexander, his fingers lightly brushed against my waist—sending an electric current through my entire body.

I nearly stumbled but quickly regained my composure.

"Careful there, little Aunt. Don't go falling into someone else's arms."

Suppressed laughter rippled through the crowd, quickly silenced by Richard's icy glare.

"Mr. Gray," I greeted Richard in a lowered voice, obedient as always.

"Are your injuries healed?" Richard asked, his face revealing nothing of his thoughts.

His fingertips traced lightly across my chin, and I restrained my instinct to recoil.

"Thanks to Mrs. Blair's care, they've healed quite quickly."

Camila gave me an approving look, stepping forward to Richard's side.

"Mr. Gray, Casey couldn't make it due to other commitments. Please don't take it personally. Casey said he'll personally apologize to you later."

Richard nodded in understanding. "Political ambition is a double-edged sword. Casey intends to enter politics, and certain things aren't convenient for him."

He glanced at his watch. "It's getting late. We should board now."

As I boarded the yacht, I saw Alexander casually leaning against the deck railing, gazing out at the ocean.

"I have some questions for you later," Richard whispered close to my ear.

I surveyed the cabin's furnishings, a large bed occupying the central position.

A cruel realization struck me—I would be trapped here with Richard for two entire weeks. It was like having a knife held to my throat.

"You've been through a difficult time." Richard's voice was as cold as a glacier.

His tone was measured, like a volcano that could erupt at any moment.

My fingers curled into fists at my sides, and I dared not meet his eyes.

Richard stepped forward, and I instinctively stepped back.

The memories of his last outburst remained vividly etched in my mind.

"Come here," he commanded, his voice brooking no refusal.

My body remained tense, prepared to endure the anticipated violence, but he merely guided me to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Scarlett," he said, his tone unexpectedly gentle.

Richard was somewhat older, always maintaining a cultured appearance when not angered.

Those unfamiliar with him would be deceived by his facade, believing him to be an especially agreeable, handsome middle-aged man.

In reality, he was quite the opposite.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Gray?" I pressed my lips together, hands tightly clasped on my knees to conceal their trembling.

"You know my problem, but I've recently found a specialist. I've taken some medication, and I want to try..."

As he spoke, his fingers gently combed through my hair, each touch sending shivers across my skin.

Try!

My body instantly felt plunged into an icy abyss!

Cold to the point of numbness, cold to the point of being unable to breathe.

"What? You're unwilling?"

Before I could speak, his fingers tangled in my hair, pulling back to force me to look up at him.

Pain spread from my scalp throughout my body, yet compared to the fear gripping my heart, it was almost negligible.

"Do you think I'm incapable?" he roared, spittle flying from his lips. "Has he satisfied you? I've seen the way you look at each other!"

I desperately grabbed his wrist, using all my strength to prevent another attack.

"No, Mr. Gray, please calm down," I pleaded.

"I'm very willing, Mr. Gray," I forced myself to smile, though tears threatened to spill over. "Please don't be angry. It's not good for your health."

Richard's smile returned, and he released my hair.

"Good. Go take a shower. Clean yourself thoroughly."

Like a lamb to the slaughter, I rose unsteadily, legs wobbling as I made my way to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, I turned the water on full blast, my body covered in cold sweat.

I trembled as I retrieved the phone hidden in my underwear and sent a message to Alexander.

But the message seemed to sink like a stone into the sea. My heart filled with despair—would I really have to be intimate with Richard tonight?

Alexander had promised to protect me.

Was I merely a temporary amusement, a disposable plaything?

But he had given up three years of Velvet Mirage's income to save me, and now...

I repeatedly dialed his number, but each time I was directed to voicemail.

"Scarlett, are you finished?" Richard's impatient voice penetrated through the door.

I couldn't delay any longer.

"Y-yes, just one minute."

I frantically surveyed the bathroom, searching for anything that could serve as a weapon or means of escape.

Despite its luxury, the bathroom offered nothing that could help me.

I opened the window, and the salty sea breeze wafted in, seeming to beckon me.

This moment suddenly transported me back twelve years, to when I stood before the burning Obsidian Palace.

Now, looking down, the deep, unfathomable ocean stretched below me.

Jumping would solve everything, yet solve nothing at all.

Indeed, before meeting Alexander, I never expected anyone to help me.

And there was no need for such expectations now.

Closing the window, I turned and picked up the razor from the shelf, looking at the sharp blade as a smile curved my lips.