Desperation pushed Scarlett forward, and she slammed her blood-stained palms against the car window. Her throat burned as she forced the words out. "Please. I'm begging you, help me!"
The pounding of boots splashing through rainwater echoed closer and closer.
From the back seat, the man observed her without looking away, as if weighing her worth in silence.
Fear tightened her chest, yet she kept speaking. She shot a glance over her shoulder at the men rushing toward her, then looked back at him. Her face had gone pale, and tears clung to her lashes. "If you save me tonight, I won't forget it. I'll repay you. I swear I will."
A faint curve lifted at the corner of his lips. "Get in."
After Scarlett got in, the driver pressed the gas, and the engine roared to life.
...
Rain lashed against the windows while the car sped through the night, and the kidnappers' shouts faded into nothing behind them.
She was still breathing. She had made it.
Without another word, the man had the driver take her back to the hotel where she had been staying.
Scarlett pulled her phone from her pocket with shaking fingers.
Water streaked across the screen, and she wiped it away carelessly with her sleeve.
Nothing waited for her, no missed calls, no messages, not even a single notification on WhatsApp.
Nothing lit up on the screen, and whatever fragile hope she had been clinging to faded for good.
She forced herself to blink away the tears that threatened to fall.
After steadying her breath, she lifted her chin and met the man's gaze. "Can I have your contact info?"
Without a word, he drew out his phone with his long fingers, opened his account details, and held the screen toward her.
She added him to her contacts. Right after that, she sent thirty thousand to his Venmo account.
"This is everything I can give you for now," Scarlett said, tilting her head up to look at the man. He stood a head taller than her. "When I get back to my country, I'll return the favor properly."
A faint smile touched his lips as he sent her a message with his name. "Asher Owen."
She quickly typed her own in response. "Scarlett Reed."
Gratitude filled her eyes as she looked at him again. "Thank you for saving me tonight. I need to go back home now."
"Alright. Have a safe trip," Asher replied before turning to leave.
Even as he walked away, his thoughts lingered on her.
At first glance, she gave off a fragile and pitiful impression, yet beneath that softness lived a quiet distance and an unyielding streak.
A woman like her shouldn't be left out in the cold. She should've been cherished and shielded.
The thought of seeing her again stirred an unexpected sense of anticipation in him.
Five exhausting hours later, Scarlett's plane finally touched down in her home country.
Instead of lingering at the airport, she called for a ride and headed straight to Sky Estate, the place she once called home with Ezra.
The house was empty when she arrived. No doubt he was still by Roselyn's side, holding her close and comforting her after the incident.
A faint, bitter smile curved across her lips as irony twisted in her chest.
Rather than hesitate, she went straight into the study, powered on the computer, and printed two copies of the divorce agreement. Once the papers slid out, she signed her name without pause.
With that done, she walked into the bedroom and began packing her belongings.
The oversized wedding portrait above the bed caught her eye, and the sight of it felt almost laughable now.
Without second thoughts, she stepped onto the mattress, yanked the frame off the wall, and flung it to the floor.
The crash echoed through the room as the glass shattered, and broken pieces scattered across the floor.
The smiling faces in that wedding photo could never be put back together again.
Without a flicker of emotion, Scarlett stepped across the broken glass and pulled out her old twenty-inch suitcase.
That suitcase was the one she had carried with her when she first married into this family. Now it was the only thing she planned to leave with. Inside, she placed a few washed-out T-shirts, an old pair of jeans, and the photo album she had flipped through so many times that the edges had grown thin.
Every dress and piece of jewelry Ezra had given her to maintain the image of a perfect wife remained untouched.
Ten minutes later, she brought the suitcase downstairs and set the signed divorce papers in the center of the marble table.
The fingerprint lock at the entrance beeped as it opened.
Ezra walked in, fatigue written plainly across his face. The moment he noticed the ruined wedding portrait tossed into the trash, his expression hardened.
Without pausing, he strode toward Scarlett.
"You came back already?" Ezra asked, his brows drawn together.
She let out a short, humorless laugh and kept moving. "Did you expect me to stay there and wait for them to finish me off?"
His face turned colder as he stepped in front of her. "What are you angry about this time?" he said, his tone sharp with impatience. "I already told you on the phone. Roselyn's heart condition acted up, and I had to be there. Can't you try to understand that?"