The spoon slipped from her hand as she stared at me in disbelief. An invisible lump formed in my throat, tight and impossible to swallow.
"Who are you?" she asked calmly, picking up another spoon and taking a bite of my dish.
I blinked, confused by the sudden question.
"Scarlett, ma," I replied quickly. Gosh, please don't ask for my last name.
"There's no renowned chef whose daughter bears that name," she whispered, more to herself than to me. Seeing my confused look, she continued, "Are you sure you don't have any professional experience? Because this is really good."
I smiled. Well, thanks to my mom—who vowed never to cook for me—learning became a survival skill.
"So does that mean…" I paused, letting the unfinished question hang between us.
She sighed softly. "I can't believe it, but yes. You're hired."
I almost jumped from excitement. I couldn't contain the happiness swelling in my chest. Finally—independence. Finally—people who might see *me* and not the rumors that have given me a name.
"Thank you, ma'am. It means a lot to me," I said sincerely.
She nodded and disappeared inside, returning with a document. She pointed out where I should sign.
I picked up the pen, ready to sign, when she suddenly spoke again.
"I'm curious," she said. "What's a pretty lady like you doing applying for this kind of job? It doesn't match your standards. Any modeling agency would fight to sign you."
I smiled politely. I got that a lot—my flawless white skin and hourglass shape made sure of it. But with my history? No modeling company would want me.
The police, however, definitely would.
"It's complicated," I said simply, handing her the other half of the agreement before strutting my way out.
---
Outside, the sky was darker. Time had flown. I checked my wristwatch, and my eyes nearly popped out.
Mr. Grey was going to kill me.
I hurried back into the mall but couldn't find anyone. I dialed Eva's number—no answer.
Panic crawled up my spine.
A man in a perfectly ironed suit approached me. He looked like one of Mr. Grey's bodyguards, though I was certain I hadn't seen him before.
"Ma'am, we've been searching everywhere for you," he said politely.
"I'm so sorry. Did Mr. Grey call?" I asked, my voice tight with fear.
"He's furious. We should leave," he said, stepping aside for me to walk.
I moved ahead of him, my heart beating so loudly it echoed in my ears.
We reached the parking lot. He opened the car door. Distracted by my anxiety, I stepped in without thinking.
My foot slipped. Something cracked underneath me.
Before I could process it, I looked up—and froze.
A gun was pointed directly at me. Panic rushed through me as I held my breath.
"Hand me your phone," he ordered coldly.
My trembling hand obeyed before my mind could respond.
Through the half-open window, something caught my eye. A chill raced through me.
A car—almost identical to the one I'd arrived in—was parked beside us.
Only this one was covered in blood. Then it hit me. It's the car I was brought here with. The present one u am sitting it is just a bit similar.
Mr. Grey's bodyguards lay around it, their bodies torn, heads barely attached.
A strangled gasp escaped me as I clapped my hands over my mouth.
Eva.
Oh God—Eva.
My eyes moved around, searching endlessly for her.
He dialed a number and placed the phone to his ear. And with a single order he said,
"Blow it up," he commanded.
Realization slammed into me. Before I could think, adrenaline took over.
I screamed and lunged toward the door, trying to force it open.
A hot slap exploded across my face, knocking my head against the glass. Pain shot through my skull. I groaned, clutching my head.
Before I could recover, he grabbed my neck and slammed me against the window again. Blood trickled down my lips.
"Shut up," he snarled.
I was terrified—yet strangely numb. I'd seen worse. I lived with a man every day who looked like the devil incarnate.
Then suddenly, I heard something.
An explosion that shook the ground.
The car beside us burst into flames.
I screamed and reached toward it, heart ripping open as my thoughts flew to Eva.
He covered my mouth, but I bit down—hard. Hard enough to make him curse and yank his hand away.
He stumbled back. I shoved him with everything I had, pushed the door open, and ran.
I sprinted toward the burning car, my lungs tight. Near the flames lay something—Eva's scarf. Covered with blood.
My knees weakened. I collapsed, crawling toward it as tears streamed down my face. Screaming out in pain.
What have I done?
The one person who cared about me—gone.
Again.
Because of me.
I buried my face in her scarf, sobbing uncontrollably.
What about her kids? They're so young… how will they survive?
Why do I always bring disaster to the people I love?
I cried harder.
Something sharp pierced my neck. I didn't react. The pain in my heart was louder than anything else. My limbs grew weak. The world blurred.
I collapsed, the last tears falling as my thoughts drifted back to Eva.
Her children…
---
I woke up to darkness, my head throbbing violently. I blinked repeatedly, trying to adjust.
My wrists and ankles were tied. Panic stirred in my chest.
I struggled, trying to remember the techniques Eva taught me.
Then I remembered the scarf. The blood. Eva.
Tears welled up again, spilling down my face.
The lights snapped on.
I lifted my head weakly. My eyes were swollen from crying. My white skin was red, bruised, dirty.
The doors slammed open.The lights were turned on and I looked up. Eyes swollen from the intense crying. My white skin now red and dirty.
A man approached me, guarded by two guards beside him.
I looked closely, trying to get a proper picture of his face.
Oh Eva, am sorry.