“Since I was a little girl, I could get anything I wanted. And that includes Ambrose.” Her voice dripped with arrogance. “The Wright family despises you now. Even if you somehow win him over, don't think for a second you'll ever be Mrs. Wright.”
“Whatever,” Hazel muttered, brushing past her. “You’d better get him back to the countryside soon so I can enjoy some peace.”
Without another word, Hazel got into her car and drove away. Scarlett stood frozen, as if Hazel's words had bounced off her like punches against cotton. Something shifted in the air. But Scarlett quickly regained her composure, slapping her face twice to snap out of the momentary daze. Then, with a twisted smile, she recorded a video and sent it to Ambrose.
“Brother Ambrose, I’m sorry. I know you love my sister, and I just want to help you,” she said, her voice trembling with feigned sincerity. “But my sister told me she’ll never forgive you unless I die. If that’s what it takes to make things right, then so be it. What would my life be worth if it fulfilled your wishes?”
Satisfied with her theatrics, Scarlett sent the video and headed toward the riverside, casually revealing her location. She was certain Ambrose would never ignore her after watching it. But as the hours stretched into nightfall, Ambrose hadn't appeared. He had seen the message, and an intense wave of anger surged within him. He’d been about to rush to Hazel for an explanation. But when he saw her laughing and chatting with colleagues over coffee, his resolve crumbled. He was afraid; afraid confronting her would drive her further away, and he wasn’t ready to lose her.
Time was slipping away, and he felt helpless. After a moment's hesitation, Ambrose called his assistant, William. Half an hour later, William called back, his voice reluctant. “President Wright, I don’t think Scarlett is genuinely suicidal. She’s just trying to grab your attention.”
In the intervening thirty minutes, Scarlett had been busy with her phone and makeup. There wasn’t a trace of sorrow on her face. Ambrose’s rage boiled over; he nearly crushed his phone. At such a critical moment, Scarlett was still stirring up trouble. He clenched his jaw, irritation lacing his voice. “From now on, handle everything with Scarlett. Don’t let her disturb me!”
Only genuine feelings could endure the test of time. Over the past weeks, Ambrose had realized Scarlett’s behavior wasn't as innocent as it seemed. Her manipulative tactics to win him over had become glaringly obvious. Her mask of innocence had slipped, revealing the truth: she wasn’t the naive girl he’d believed her to be. The bright, shining moon in his heart, once cherished, was slowly dimming. In its place, a beautiful rose began to bloom, its petals opening, tender and captivating.
Ambrose finally understood how priceless Hazel’s true feelings were. Rather than appeasing Scarlett, he longed to spend more time with Hazel, appreciating the simple purity of her love. He called a waiter, pointing discreetly toward Hazel’s table. “Send them a strawberry cake. Don’t mention it’s from me; just tell them it’s a special promotion.” The waiter, eager for a generous tip, nodded quickly.
Ambrose’s gaze lingered on Hazel. The woman before him was nearly unrecognizable. Her hair was cut short and neat, her face framed with simple elegance. She no longer wore flashy dresses, opting instead for a professional, polished look. Every day, she radiated energy; her smile was bright and confident, a stark contrast to the uncertain woman he’d left behind. Ambrose found himself drawn to this new Hazel.