Chapter 9 The New Mrs. Rothschild

Gabriel's POV

I saw Jack's mouth open, about to expose Scarlett, and acted instinctively. "Jack, your aunt has no reason to falsely accuse you. Don't even try to defend yourself!"

Jack tried to protest, "Uncle, I'm not talking about that, I'm talking about—"

"Silence!" I thundered, my voice echoing through the hotel corridor. Jack flinched visibly, the words dying in his throat.

I towered over him, using every inch of my six-foot-three frame to intimidate. "Jack, your aunt may be young, but she is your elder and the mistress of this household. You show her absolutely no respect, calling her 'this woman' and 'that woman.' What kind of behavior is that?"

Jack's face paled as I continued my tirade. "What's even more infuriating is that last night, in a drunken state, you actually harassed a maid, then try to use family power to bully her. This is utterly despicable and tarnishes the Rothschild reputation. As CEO, I must discipline you!"

I softened my tone slightly, though my eyes remained steel. "Considering you grew up away from the family without proper upbringing, I won't enforce family punishment today. However, you will attend etiquette school for one week to reflect on your actions."

I caught Adam's eye with a subtle glance. He stepped forward smoothly. "Young Master Jack, please come with me."

Jack looked desperately toward his parents, his face a mixture of frustration and fear. Catherine immediately stepped in, her perfectly made-up face contorted with manufactured concern.

"Gabriel, Jack has only been home for three days. He needs time with us to build family bonds. Isn't separating him from us for a week rather cruel?"

"This is non-negotiable," I replied coldly. "Derek, Catherine, don't accuse me of being heartless. Spoiling a child is like killing them. Such reprehensible behavior must be corrected before it escalates further."

Justin, Derek's older son, chimed in with false concern. "Brother, you must admit when you're wrong. What were you thinking getting drunk like that?"

Justin smirked at Jack with a look that said, "You idiot."

The contemptuous glance triggered something in Jack's mind. Suddenly, he understood everything. Justin wasn't the warm, welcoming brother he'd pretended to be yesterday. When they'd shared drinks, chatting like close siblings while Justin got him half-drunk, his brother had told him the maids were available for his pleasure, that they were all willing. Jack, alcohol-addled and unfamiliar with the ways of wealthy families, had believed him completely.

Now looking back, Jack realized with horror that his uncharacteristic lack of self-control hadn't been just from alcohol. Justin must have drugged his drink. A chill ran down his spine as the truth crystallized: in this world of wealth and privilege, there wasn't just power and money but also dangerous schemes and manipulation.

Jack's earlier defiance evaporated as he processed this sickening revelation. He glanced nervously between his brother and Gabriel, no longer confident enough to expose Scarlett's true identity.

"Jack, please come with me," Adam repeated firmly.

Jack followed meekly, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Derek and Catherine, humiliated by the public dressing-down, retreated with matching scowls. The crisis was averted.

I noticed Scarlett's relieved expression and the grateful smile she flashed my way. I acknowledged it with a curt nod, though I couldn't explain the inexplicable darkness that clouded my mood. Before I could approach her, Grandmother happily pulled her away to continue their conversation at the main estate.

Once in the car, I wasted no time. "Adam, investigate the relationship between Scarlett Ross and Jack thoroughly."

"Yes, sir," he replied immediately.

Later that evening in my private office at the Rothschild Estate, Adam presented his findings.

"Mr. Rothschild, the investigation confirms that Miss Scarlett Ross's fiancé is indeed young Master Jack."

My face darkened instantly. A complex mixture of jealousy, anger, and embarrassment surged through me. My chest tightened painfully as I recalled my discomfort upon learning she had a fiancé—now amplified tenfold discovering it was my own nephew.

I had forcibly married my nephew's fiancée. The realization twisted in my gut like a knife. I'd violated business ethics and family bonds simultaneously. In my rage, I crumpled the report in my fist, my knuckles whitening with pressure.

"Sir," Adam added hesitantly, "Miss Ross and Master Jack have already separated."

My head snapped up. "What happened?"

"The report contains all the details, sir."

A flicker of joy coursed through me, quickly followed by guilt. Had my impromptu marriage destroyed their trust? While I admitted to myself that I found Scarlett intriguing, I would never have pursued her had I known she belonged to my nephew.

I carefully unfolded the report and read through it meticulously. As I absorbed the information, my furrowed brow gradually relaxed. There had been no genuine affection between them. Their marriage plans stemmed solely from a promise to Jack's adoptive grandmother. Scarlett had loyally honored this commitment despite her evident lack of enthusiasm. Then, upon becoming a Rothschild heir, Jack had callously abandoned her and smeared her reputation online.

"According to our investigation," Adam elaborated, "Miss Ross and Master Jack shared little emotional connection. They were bound only by a childhood promise. Given how busy Miss Ross has been establishing herself in New York, they rarely even saw each other."

Adam's voice held a note of personal opinion: "Master Jack's unilateral decision to break the engagement may actually benefit Miss Ross. A marriage founded on an obligatory promise could hardly bring happiness."

I couldn't suppress the slight upward curve of my lips.

"Sir, shall we intervene regarding the defamatory content about Miss Ross on social media?" Adam inquired.

To his evident surprise, I shook my head enigmatically, offering no explanation.

After Grandmother retired for the evening, I found Scarlett alone in the living room. I approached her directly.

"Care to talk?" I asked.

"Sure," she responded without hesitation.

In my private meeting room, we sat across from each other at a massive glass table flanked by luxurious leather sofas.

"Miss Ross, would you now be interested in pretending to be my wife for a while?" I asked directly.

Scarlett's eyes flashed with determination. "Mr. Rothschild, I believe I made myself clear previously. I won't agree to this arrangement. If you're thinking of using the social media situation to pressure me, you're mistaken. I can handle that myself."

I studied her intently, increasingly fascinated by this woman with her perfect figure, beautiful face, and confident smile that refused to be intimidated by my wealth or power.

With practiced ease, I produced a photograph and placed it on the table between us.

"Miss Ross, perhaps you should look at this before deciding on my request."

Scarlett froze as she examined the image. "Who is this?"

"Victoria Langley, heiress to Langley Family."

I watched as Scarlett scrutinized the photograph, checking for manipulation, studying the facial structure for signs of plastic surgery. Her expression confirmed what I already knew—she and Victoria Langley were perfect doubles, virtually indistinguishable except for their distinct personalities.