Chapter 47

Scarlett POV

I unexpectedly met his gaze, and in that moment it felt as if electricity coursed through my entire body.

His look was direct and intense, unabashedly conveying dangerous intentions, making my heart nearly leap out of my chest. Our gazes remained tightly interwoven, as if time had frozen still.

In those brief seconds, all the sounds in the restaurant appeared to fade away, leaving only our silent communication and the unspoken secrets between us.

Suppressing the tumultuous emotions within me, I desperately tried to make my voice sound calm.

"I believe your uncle will make his own judgment," I finally found my voice, my tone controlled and restrained.

Alexander's smile widened, clearly enjoying how my self-restraint wavered before him. "Indeed," he agreed, his gaze still fixed on my face, as if he wanted to capture every subtle change in my expression.

Finally, he turned his attention to the menu, but I could feel that part of his focus remained on me, like an invisible hand caressing my skin.

"Now, what should we order? After dealing with George's merger documents all day, I'm starving."

When he said "starving," he stretched the word, as if it carried some hidden suggestion.

I involuntarily swallowed, staring down at the menu without being able to process a single word, only aware of my heartbeat thundering in my ears like a drum.

When the waiter approached, Alexander ordered a steak while I casually selected a salad. After the waiter left, Sandra suddenly spoke, her sharp voice cutting through the momentary calm at the table.

"Scarlett, I heard you recently moved out of the Gray estate?"

Her lips curled into a mocking smile. "I wonder if your new place befits the status of a Smith family adoptee? After all, you're quite different from the rest of us."

My fingers tightened around my water glass as I raised it to my lips, trying to disguise my discomfort.

But something went wrong as the cold liquid flowed down my throat—I choked, followed by an intense burst of coughing.

"Scarlett, are you alright?" Camila immediately handed me a napkin, her voice filled with concern.

"I'm—cough—fine."

My hand trembled slightly, betraying my unease. Water spilled over the rim of the glass, soaking into my dark blue pants, creating a dark stain that spread across my thigh.

When I glanced up and caught Alexander watching the scene, a flash of annoyance crossed my mind.

His blue eyes sparkled with amusement, his lips curving into that irritating smile I knew all too well.

Did he find my predicament entertaining? I pressed my lips together, suppressing the urge to say something cutting.

"Your pants are wet. Do you want to go to the restroom to take care of it?" Camila suggested.

I nodded, pushing back my chair, perhaps with too much force. The chair legs scraped against the floor with a harsh sound, drawing glances from nearby diners.

"Please continue eating, don't wait for me," I said as calmly as possible. As I turned to leave, I felt George's gaze following me, the concern in his eyes forming a stark contrast to the attitudes of others at the table.

My heartbeat involuntarily quickened, but I quickly reminded myself—he represented another kind of danger.

Then, Sandra's voice came through clearly, carrying a venomous edge.

"George, if you continue looking at Scarlett that way, I might have to tell your grandfather. You know how much importance our elders place on our engagement."

I didn't look back, only quickening my steps toward the restroom, my cheeks burning with a mixture of shame and anger.

Behind me, there was silence, followed by Alexander's drawling response, his words indistinct but his tone undoubtedly mocking. My eyes grew hot, tears threatening to spill. No, Scarlett, don't cry, not here.

I took a deep breath, forcing back the bitterness. They just wanted to see me humiliated, and I wouldn't give them that satisfaction.

In the restroom, I gently patted the water stain on my pants with a paper towel, looking at my perfect makeup in the mirror. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down.

After confirming the water stain wasn't too noticeable, I touched up my lipstick and put on a proper smile, ready to return to the table.

Just as I pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway, I froze in my tracks.

A person wearing a baseball cap stood at the end of the corridor, only a pair of amber eyes visible in the shadows.

A chill ran up my spine. I looked around cautiously, making sure there were no security cameras in the hallway before asking coldly, "Are you here to monitor me?" I unconsciously clutched my handbag tighter.

The person unhurriedly took two steps forward, speaking in a low voice: "Mr. Thomas asked me to remind you not to let these men distract your attention, especially Alexander."

My heart clenched, but I maintained my composure. "I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" The person pulled an envelope from their pocket, voice filled with contempt and doubt. "Mr. Thomas thinks you've been getting too close to Alexander lately. It seems you're having trouble distinguishing between your mission and personal feelings."

I took the envelope, my fingertips cold with tension. When I opened it, a chill spread from my spine throughout my entire body, like ice water pouring over me, freezing every nerve.

In the photograph, a girl about ten years old was locked in a dimly lit basement, with visible injuries on her face and eyes full of fear and despair.

In the background, other girls in similar situations were vaguely visible, huddled in corners like frightened animals.

That girl was so similar to me in my memories…

My fingers trembled, and rage ignited from deep within me, consuming my entire being. I grabbed the person's collar, my nails nearly digging into my palm.

"I've been following the requirements, why are you doing this?" I said through gritted teeth, my voice so low it was barely audible, yet filled with suppressed fury.

"They're just innocent children! You promised that if I cooperated, you wouldn't harm them!"

Memories flooded in like a tide, taking me back to that summer day ten years ago.

"Scarlett, come quick!" Yvette Thomas's excited voice called from deep within the garden.

My sister was always more lively than me. She was only 6 years old then, her brown curls shimmering in the sunlight, as if gilded with a layer of gold.

I put down my book and slowly walked toward her. Yvette was crouching in front of a patch of cornflowers, carefully observing a blue butterfly.

"Look, its wings are the same blue as your favorite dress!" She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling with innocence.

"Yes, they really are similar," I said softly as I crouched down, afraid of disturbing the fragile creature.

"But don't touch it, okay? Butterfly wings are easily damaged." Yvette nodded seriously: "Just like people, right?

They look strong, but they're actually fragile." I didn't know then how prophetic her words were.

A week later, when we were separated, the final look in Yvette's eyes was identical to the one in this photograph—fear, helplessness, despair.

I had promised to protect her, to always stay by her side. But that was a promise I couldn't keep.

Whenever I think of that day, of her little hand desperately reaching out to me as she was forcibly taken away, my heart aches as if it's being torn apart.

"Scarlett! Don't let them take me! Please!" These were the last words I heard from her, repeating endlessly in my nightmares.

"She was just a child..." My voice trembled with emotion as the photograph before me tore open that never-healed wound in my heart.

"Mr. Thomas thinks your progress is too slow," the person remained motionless, with eyes as cold as if looking at an inanimate object.

"It's been over a month since we made the deal, yet you haven't even gotten close to the core of the Gray family. Mr. Thomas doesn't like to wait."

I released my grip, trying to steady my rapid breathing and trembling body. Fear and anger intertwined within me, nearly tearing me apart.

"When can I see her?" I asked, the tremor in my voice betraying my emotions.

"When you complete your mission," the person straightened their collar, a cold smile playing at the corner of their mouth.

"Don't think your relationship with Alexander gives you any power against the organization. Do you really believe you can conquer him? A member of the Gray family?"

I maintained my expression, though my nails dug deeply into my palms.

"Remember who you are," he continued, each word sharp as a blade. "Remember why you're here."