Scarlet's POV
The silence in my penthouse was so heavy it felt like it was ringing in my ears. All I could hear was the memory of my own embarrassment, trapped inside these empty, modern walls. I stood in the middle of the room, shaking with a level of anger I couldn't even put into words.
Eleanor.
The mouse. The spineless, pathetic little mouse I had looked down on from the very first second. That creature was the Shadowmere vessel. The heir. She had stood there in that opulent hellscape of a living room, and she had made me kneel. She had made me wear a clown's face. She had recorded my disgrace for her own amusement.
The memory didn't just feel like a thought; it felt like a scar burned into my mind. I could still feel the cold marble floor under my knees and the sharp sting where my father kicked me. I remembered forcing a fake smile until my lips felt like they would rip. Back then, every whisper from the servants felt like a needle stabbing into my pride.
