“Oh my God, you’re awake!” Alina gasped as she barged into the room, crocodile tears already shimmering in her wide doe eyes. She clutched my hand like we were sisters bonded by tragedy. “Scarlett, does it hurt? This is all my fault, I’m so, so sorry-”
I stared at her. Not her words. Her lips.
Because I saw it–that twitch. That curl of satisfaction before she schooled her face into mourning.
“You’re standing in front of the window,” I said flatly, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Kind of hard to pretend I’m healing when you’re blocking the sunlight with your cheap theatrics.”
Her lip quivered. Oscar–worthy. Then–like on cue–Creed’s phone rang. He stepped out to take the call, shooting me a look that tried to say I’ll be right back.
The second the door clicked shut, Alina dropped the act.
Her entire posture shifted. Cold. Cruel.
“Aw,” she sneered, brushing invisible lint off the pristine sheets beside my leg. “You’re still alive. That’s a shame.”
I didn’t speak. I just stared.
“I wanted to see your guts spilled on that floor,” she went on, voice low and venomous. “But nooo, some random idiot had to drag you out like the pathetic stray you are.”
She leaned in, her breath hot near my ear. “Creed would’ve let you burn. If it weren’t for the crowd, he wouldn’t have even looked back.”
My hand moved before I thought. The slap echoed through the sterile room like a gunshot.
She stumbled, one hand flying to her cheek.
And right then, the door opened.
Creed stepped inside–eyes locking instantly on Alina’s red, trembling face.
“What the hell?” he snapped, rushing over. “Scarlett, what did you do?”
“She hit me!” Alina wailed, curling into him like she was made of glass. “I just wanted to check on her and she… she lashed out!”
“You’re unbelievable,” Creed growled, turning to me. “From this moment on, I’m
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no longer your bodyguard.” He pointed at me like I was nothing. “I’m done.”
Something hollow cracked inside me.
“For once,” I asked, voice raw, “did you ever love me?”
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Alina sniffled, resting her head against his chest like a reward. “Creed… I should. go. Let you two talk-”
“No,” he said sharply, pulling her close. “Stay. I want you to hear what I’m about to say.”
Then he looked at me. No hesitation. No regret.
“I never loved you, Scarlett. I used you. You were a means to get closer to Alina.” He didn’t even blink.
“You were just a pastime. A bedwarmer. Nothing more. Alina’s the only one I’ve ever loved.”
The air felt like poison in my lungs.
He took a step forward, the final blow still hanging in his voice.
“If you ever lay a hand on her again, it won’t be a slap you’ll pay for. You’ll answer to me.“And then they left–hand in hand, without a glance back.
And I sat there, bleeding in places no bandage could fix.
When I was finally discharged, I didn’t go home to rest. I went to my father.
estate.
The study smelled like ash, whiskey, and betrayal. My leg throbbed beneath. the bandage, but I walked like it didn’t. Pain made a better companion than pity.
I pulled open the bottom drawer of my father’s old desk, the one no one touched without gloves or permission. Inside–wrapped in black velvet–was the long punishment paddle. Thorned. Hand–carved from obsidian–stained yew, each ridge cruel and deliberate. It wasn’t decorative. It was tradition.
I laid it across my lap and waited.
“Bring him,” I told the butler.
Creed walked in like a shadow–broad shoulders, jaw tight, a man ready for war or surrender. He stopped when he saw the paddle. His eyes flicked to it, then. to me. No fear. Just that same stupid, heavy silence.
“You made me a promise,” I said, voice flat. “You took a vow with that ring you
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still wear on your chain. You swore to protect me. You don’t get to resign. Not. without blood.”
He opened his mouth–but I didn’t let him speak.
“You broke it. So I get tenfold.”
I stood, limping a little, but I didn’t care. I circled him slowly, like a lioness around a traitor in her den. “Ten lashes. Or one hit with this.”
I tapped the thorned paddle against the desk once. The sound was final.
Creed looked at me, jaw clenched. “If it will fix what I broke… do it.”
That hurt more than I expected.
I didn’t want it to fix anything. I wanted it to hurt.
He took off his coat and shirt without being told. Turned his back to me.
That’s when the doors burst open.
“Scarlett, stop!” Alina screamed, dramatic as ever. Her perfect white dress fluttered behind her like some tragic heroine from a bad opera. “Don’t hurt him! If someone should be punished, let it be me!”
I didn’t even blink. “Move.”
“No!” she cried, fake tears already painting her cheeks. “I can’t let you do this to him! He’s not the villain–he just–he just-”
“Alina.” Creed tried to pull her back, firm but gentle.
She clung harder. “No, I won’t let her! I won’t let her-”
I snapped. I raised the paddle. And she jumped in front of him.
The crack echoed.
A scream ripped out of her throat. Thin. Real.
Blood welled up where the thorns had struck, sharp and red against all that white. She crumpled.
Creed caught her before she hit the ground. He knelt there, trembling, one arm around her, the other curled into a fist.
She sobbed into his chest. He looked at me.
And I’ve never seen eyes like that.
“I warned you,” I said quietly, holding the paddle steady. “Anyone who defies me gets punished.”
His voice was quiet. Shaking. “You’re sick.”
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“She got in the way.”
“She always will,” he said, gathering her up in his arms. She whimpered when his fingers brushed her wound. “But you just made a mistake you won’t walk away from.”
He turned to the door, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. Just before he stepped out, he paused.
That look he gave me-
It wasn’t hate.
It was promise.
“I told you you’d be punished,” Creed said, without looking back. “Wait for it.”
Then they left. The doors slammed behind them.
