“She’s despicable! Isn’t her motive clear? To replace Olivia, of course! If she managed to carry his child, the gong family would have no choice but to marry her. With mother and child as leverage, our reputation would be smeared beyond salvation!”

Another voice spat venomously, “I’ve never seen such disgraceful tactics in my entire life! It’s a blessing that Olivia has the presence of mind to thwart her. Otherwise, a pair of lovers would have been ripped apart by her scheming!”

“Matthew, this woman must be cast out immediately! If she stays, who knows what kind of chaos will follow?”

Each syllable felt like a dagger, stabbing into Scarlett’s heart. The memories from her past life surged forward, where Olivia’s manipulation crowned her a saint while Scarlett wallowed in dishonor, her position beneath contempt.

She’d become so accustomed to this—a chorus of accusations delivered without pause, without mercy. And yet, this time… this time was different. For the first time, Scarlett steadied herself and met Olivia’s gaze head-on. Behind the veil of delicate weakness in those doe-like eyes was a glimmer of something more—strategic malice.

The revelation struck her like a match igniting a fire. Olivia had switched the medicine.

As if to confirm her suspicions, Olivia pressed her luck, wiping her tears but subtly arching her lips in a fleeting smile—an expression loaded with mockery and provocation. Then, with all the grace of a diplomat distraught for the greater good, she turned back to Matthew, her voice tinged with quiet pleading.

“Matthew, I beg you, let Scarlett go. She didn’t do this intentionally. And if it’s my fault, if punishing me could restore things for you and the gong family, I’d willingly endure any slander—even if it sullies my name forever.”

If Scarlett hadn’t seen the smirk hidden behind her tears, hadn’t noticed the playful tilt in her brow, she might have marveled at Olivia’s apparent compassion. But now, she understood—the woman wasn’t merely cunning; she was a virtuoso of deceit, her web spun more intricately than Scarlett had once imagined.

And yet, the subtle thrill Olivia found in Scarlett’s unraveling faltered. For Scarlett remained calm, her expression devoid of panic, her poise startling, unnerving.

Olivia hesitated, her gaze fixed on Scarlett as if trying to uncover the cracks beneath the surface. But those cracks failed to appear. Scarlett, carrying the fortitude of someone forged by fire, simply ignored her adversary outright. Instead, she moved forward, her steps deliberate as they carried her closer to the seat of power in the room.

She stopped before Matthew, who lounged with a dangerous ease, the jade ring on his finger catching glimmers of light as he toyed idly with it. Every motion radiated a quiet, calculated menace—as though Scarlett were nothing more than prey caught in the jaws of a predator who found amusement in her struggles.

Their eyes met. His gaze, cold and predatory, mocked her openly, laced with derision. It was a look she knew too well—one that conveyed contempt without needing words, a conviction that everything she said would inevitably be dismissed as lies.

And so, she chose silence.

A bitter smile played across her lips as she finally spoke. "I’ve told you already—the woman in the photograph isn’t me. And, since Olivia denies it too, perhaps the only person who can answer is you, Uncle."

Her words hung in the air, sharp and unyielding. Then, her gaze flicked coldly toward Olivia, and her voice sharpened. "Though, Olivia—I can’t help but wonder. You and Uncle are engaged, aren’t you? If the photograph were yours, wouldn’t that be perfectly reasonable? Yet, you seem so eager to protest. One might think… it’s because you don’t actually love him."

It was a lesson in spite—one she’d gleaned during the years of humiliation Olivia had fed her in a past life. Now, she wielded it with precision.

The jab struck true. Olivia's expression faltered; her grip on composure loosened. For a fleeting instant, she was laid bare, scrambling to deny the insinuation with clumsy haste.

“No! That’s not it at all! I love Matthew!” she exclaimed, shaking her head violently.

Scarlett’s tone dripped with ice. "Then why slander me? And besides—" She turned back to Matthew, speaking slowly, deliberately. "Besides, there are other men in this world. If I wanted to conceive, what makes you think I’d choose your child, Uncle?"

Her voice cut like a whip, her words searing and deliberate, a vow unto herself. ‘Matthew, if there’s one thing I'm certain of in this lifetime, it’s that I’d sooner burn my soul than be shackled to you again.’

The venom in her declaration spurred Matthew into motion, his fingers gripping his ring tighter as the steely chill in his gaze darkened further.

“What did you say?” he growled, his voice low and brimming with threat.

Scarlett repeated herself without hesitation, her tone louder, unwavering. "I said—you’re not the only man alive, Uncle Matthew. If I ever decide to bear a child, it would never be yours. Tell me, have I spoken untrue?"

His eyes narrowed, his presence suffocating. The sheer force of his animosity pressed against her, momentarily leaving her breathless and unsteady. But she refused to falter.

Her chin tilted upward defiantly. Scanning the room, she addressed everyone, her voice cutting through the whispers and judgment alike. "If you’ve nothing else to say, then I’d like to rest now. I’m very tired."

She turned to leave.

“Stop.” Matthew’s voice froze her in place. Deadly, deliberate, suffused with palpable rage. "Who was it?"

Gasps chorused behind him. For the first time, the audience faltered, unable to predict what such a question might unravel.

Scarlett lowered her eyes, concealing the storms raging behind them. Of course, Matthew knew the answer. How could he not? This was as much a game to him as it was strategy—bait for a predator savoring his kill.

She glanced quickly at her phone, her lips curling into something solemnly sardonic as she finally spoke. "Don’t worry, Uncle Matthew. Soon enough, all of this will come to an end."

The chaos silenced for a beat, a gap filled swiftly by the arrival of the butler, whose presence heralded an intrusion.

"There’s someone here for Miss Hartman Hartman." The butler’s heavy voice addressed her formally but hesitated with unease.

A security guard entered, standing stiffly under the weight of curious gazes. "Miss Hartman, it’s the delivery you ordered—the neighborhood doesn’t allow commercial couriers through, so I brought it directly."

Scarlett moved forward. Straight-faced, she murmured her thanks before accepting the paper bag brought to her.

Her audience watched in muted confusion as she stepped calmly toward the coffee table. What followed was unthinkable: one by one, she poured the bag’s contents onto the polished surface, exposing its true cargo.

Birth control pills.

The room imploded with murmurs too hushed for clarity but heavy with disbelief.

Scarlett opened the package deftly, held the case aloft for all to see, and stopped directly before Matthew’s chair, her arm extended closer to his line of sight. "Uncle, take a good look. Can you confirm it for yourself this time?"

Her lips curved into a bitter smile before she began plucking the pills free from their foil covering, each motion deliberate. "One pill isn’t enough, right? Then two. Three. Four."

Just as her hand reached for a fifth, the silence broke. Julian, usually the most deferential to the family head, stormed over and slapped the bottle out of her grasp. His voice was edged with fury.

"Matthew, what are you doing? Scarlett’s already explained—it wasn’t her fault. Why are you driving her to this point?"

Emily rolled toward her trembling, cradling her protectively before pleading, "Enough! She's unmarried. You could ruin her future like this! Don’t you understand?!"

Pain consumed Scarlett as her stomach contorted violently, sweat trickling at her temples. Yet she refused collapse. Her trembling hand extended toward Matthew one last time, revealing one final pill cradled within her palm.

"Uncle Matthew—" she said, her voice trembling against her fatigue, "is this enough?"