Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Scarlett
My phone buzzes on my desk. I glance at the screen: Miles.
I silence it without reading the message. This has been happening more frequently over the past week. What used to be a call every couple of days and a text message once a day has escalated. Now he's calling multiple times a day, leaving voicemails I don't listen to, sending texts I don't read.
I stopped answering over a month ago. Right after Dax told me about Miles running to his ex-girlfriend while I was in Chicago trying to recover from the humiliation of being abandoned at my own wedding.
The guilt I used to feel—the nagging sense that I was betraying Miles by being with Dax—vanished the moment I learned the truth. Miles made his choice—multiple choices, actually. And none of them were me. So I don't feel guilty anymore. I feel free.
My phone buzzes again—another call. I decline it and get back to work.
Later that afternoon, I'm walking past the conference rooms when I see Dax coming out of a meeting. He catches my eye and slows his pace.
"Scarlett." His voice is professional, but his eyes aren't.
"Mr. Blackwell."
We're alone in the corridor. He steps closer, his voice dropping.
"What time do you want me over tonight?"
A smile tugs at my lips.
"Right after your last meeting."
"I have a call with investors at five. Should be done by six.”
"I'll be waiting."
His eyes darken slightly. "Good."
Someone rounds the corner, and we step apart, professional distance restored. But the anticipation is already building.
By the time Dax arrives at my apartment that evening, I'm already changed into comfortable clothes—leggings and a soft sweater. He barely makes it through the door before his hands are on me.
We don't make it to the bedroom right away. The couch. Then the hallway. Finally, my bed. Afterward, we lie tangled in sheets, breathing hard, my head on his chest.
"I should make dinner," I say eventually.
"Stay here."
"I'm starving. And you must be too."
He sighs dramatically.
"Fine. What are you making?"
"Pasta. Salad. Garlic bread." I prop myself up on one elbow, grinning.
"Not quite Michelin star level like you're used to, but I promise it's edible."
He pulls me down for a kiss.
"I'm sure it's perfect."
I slip out of bed and pull on my lounge clothes again—soft pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Dax is still in bed, watching me with that lazy, satisfied expression.
"I'll be in the kitchen," I tell him.
"Don't take too long or I'll eat all the garlic bread myself."
"Noted."
I head to the kitchen, turning on music from my phone and pulling out ingredients. Boiling water for pasta, chopping vegetables for salad, preheating the oven for garlic bread. I'm humming along to the music, completely content, when there's a knock at my door.
I freeze.
I'm not expecting anyone. And I didn't hear the buzzer from downstairs. Another knock. More insistent.
I wipe my hands on a towel and walk to the door, looking through the peephole. My heart drops into my stomach.
Miles. Miles is standing in my hallway.
The knock comes again, louder.
"Scarlett, I know you're in there. I can hear the music."
I look back down the hallway toward the bedroom, praying Dax doesn't walk out.
"Scarlett, please. Open the door."
I take a breath and unlock it, opening just enough to see him but blocking the entrance.
"Miles." My voice comes out harder than I intended.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"I'm glad you finally opened the door." He looks terrible—disheveled, dark circles under his eyes, desperate.
"We need to talk."
"How did you even get in the building?"
"I followed someone in downstairs when they came through the front door. Took the elevator up." He tries to step forward.
"Can I come in?"
"No. You can't be here."
"Scarlett, you haven't answered my calls in over a month. You won't respond to my texts. What was I supposed to do?"
"Respect my boundaries, maybe?"
He pushes past me into the apartment anyway.
"Miles!" I grab his arm, trying to pull him back.
"You can't just—"
"Where have you been?" he demands, looking around.
"I've been trying to reach you for weeks. You owe me an explanation. You owe me a conversation."
"I don't owe you anything."
"We spent three years together, Scarlett. Three years. That has to count for something."
"It counted for something. Until you left me at the altar."
"I made a mistake! I've been trying to tell you that. I've been trying to apologize. But you won't even talk to me!"
I'm about to respond when I hear footsteps behind me. Dax emerges from the bedroom, shirtless, his pants on but unbuttoned at the waist. He's pulling a t-shirt over his head as he walks into the living room.
"Scarlett, do you want—"
He stops when he sees Miles. Miles turns. His face goes white, then red.
"Dax?" His voice is strangled. He looks at Dax, then at me, then back at Dax.
"What the fuck? Are you fucking kidding me?"
Dax's expression shifts immediately—jaw tightening, eyes hardening. He moves toward us.
"Miles, what the fuck are you doing here?"
Miles's voice rises, bordering on hysterical.
"Are you fucking my brother? Are you fucking my girlfriend? My fiancée?!"
"I'm not your fiancée," I say, my voice sharp.
"You ended that when you didn't show up to our wedding."
Miles lunges toward Dax.
It happens so fast I barely register it. One second they're standing apart, the next Miles has his hands on Dax's chest, shoving him backward.
"You selfish piece of shit!" Miles shouts.
Dax catches his balance and shoves back, harder.
"You ruined your fucking chances when you left her in her wedding dress!"
Miles swings. His fist connects with Dax's jaw, and Dax's head snaps to the side.
"Stop it!" I scream. "Miles, stop it! You have no right!"
Dax recovers and swings back, his fist slamming into Miles's face.
The impact sends Miles stumbling backward into my coffee table.
He catches himself, breathing hard, blood starting to trickle from his nose.
Then he lunges again, tackling Dax. They crash into my bookshelf. Books tumble to the floor.
"How could you do this?!" Miles is screaming now, throwing wild punches.
"She was mine! Mine!"
Dax blocks most of them, then lands another punch to Miles's ribs. Miles grunts and staggers back. I'm trying to get between them, grabbing at Miles's arm.
"Stop it right now! You stop it right fucking now!"
Dax straightens, breathing hard, his jaw already swelling.
"It wasn't my intention, but it happened."
"Wasn't your intention?" Miles spits blood onto my floor.
"She was my fiancée! You fucked my fiancée!"
"It was never going to be the same between us, Miles," I say, my voice shaking with anger.
"You left me. You humiliated me. You destroyed whatever we had."
"So you start fucking my brother?!" He rounds on me, his face twisted with rage and hurt.
Dax steps between us, his voice low and dangerous.
"This is more than that. Scarlett is more woman than you could ever handle. You don't even know what you want."
"Fuck you!" Miles swings again.
Dax dodges and grabs Miles by the shirt, slamming him against the wall. Dax steps between us, his voice low and dangerous.
"This is more than that. Scarlett is more woman than you could ever handle. You don't even know what you want."
"Fuck you!" Miles swings again.
Dax dodges and grabs Miles by the shirt, slamming him against the wall.
"I know you went back to Florida after the wedding. I know you fucked one of your old girlfriends. Was that your rebound, Miles? Or were you just keeping your options open?"
Miles's eyes go wide, his mouth falling open. His head swings to Dax.
"How the fuck do you know about that?"
"Your mother told me," Dax says coldly.
"She slipped up. Mentioned you were down there reconnecting with Rebecca."
Miles's face goes pale. "Mom told you?"
"Yes. And I've known for a while." Dax's grip on Miles's shirt tightens.
"So don't stand there acting like you have any moral high ground. You abandoned Scarlett, ran to Florida, and fucked your ex. You gave up any claim to her."
Miles shoves Dax off and starts toward me.
"Scarlett, I can explain. This is what I've been trying to tell you—"
Dax blocks him, stepping in front of me.
"Stay away from her."
"She's not yours!"
"Yes, she is." Dax's voice is absolutely certain.
"Scarlett belongs to me. You leave her the fuck alone."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Miles's face contorts. He lunges at Dax again.
They collide, fists flying. Dax lands a punch to Miles's stomach. Miles swings back, connecting with Dax's cheekbone. I'm screaming at them to stop, but they're not listening. Finally, Dax gets Miles in a headlock and throws him toward the door.
"Get out," Dax says, his voice deadly calm despite the blood on his lip.
Miles is on his knees, breathing hard. He looks up at me, and there are actual tears in his eyes.
"Scarlett, please. We can work through this. We had something good—"
"No." The word comes out flat, final.
"We didn't. We had something comfortable. Something safe. But it wasn't good, Miles. It was never passionate. It was never real."
He stands, wiping blood from his nose.
"You'll regret this."
"I already regret it," I shoot back.
"I regret wasting three years on someone who couldn't commit to me. Who ran to his ex-girlfriend the moment things got hard. Who humiliated me in front of everyone I know."
"You're making a mistake."
"The only mistake I made was saying yes to you in the first place." My voice is rising now, years of frustration pouring out.
"I'm done playing small for you, Miles. I'm done being the woman you keep on the shelf while you figure out what you want.
It's over. Regardless of what happens with Dax, you and I are done.
I don't love you anymore. I don't want to be with you.
And the fact that you humiliated me and then ran to fuck your ex shows me you were never serious about me in the first place.
Stop lying to yourself. Stop lying to me. "
Miles stares at me, his expression crumbling. Then rage takes over. He grabs the lamp from my side table and hurls it against the wall. It shatters, glass scattering across my floor.
"Fuck both of you," he spits.
"You deserve each other."
He storms to the door, yanking it open. He pauses in the doorway, looking back at Dax.
"She'll leave you too," he says.
"When she realizes what you really are."
Then he's gone, the door slamming behind him.
The silence that follows is deafening. I stand there, shaking, staring at the broken lamp and the scattered books and the blood on my floor.
Dax moves toward me. "Scarlett—"
I turn and walk into his arms. He holds me tight, one hand in my hair, the other around my waist. I can feel him trembling too, the adrenaline still coursing through both of us.
"Are you okay?" he asks quietly.
I pull back to look at him. His jaw is swelling where Miles hit him. There's blood on his lip. A cut above his eyebrow.
"I'm fine. You're hurt."
"I'm fine."
"You're bleeding."
I lead him to the couch and push him to sit. Then I go to the bathroom and get the first aid kit from under the sink. When I return, he's still sitting there, looking at the destruction around us.
I kneel in front of him, opening the first aid kit. I clean the cut on his eyebrow first, dabbing it gently with antiseptic. He winces but doesn't pull away.
"That was awful," I whisper.
My hands are shaking as I press the bandage over the cut. Tears blur my vision, and I blink them back, but one escapes anyway, sliding down my cheek.
Dax catches it with his thumb. "Hey."
"I'm okay." But my voice breaks.
He pulls me onto the couch beside him, wrapping his arm around me. I lean into his chest, and the tears come harder now.
"Miles can’t hurt you anymore. The hard part is over," Dax says quietly after a moment.
I nod against his chest. "I know."
We sit there in the wreckage, neither of us saying anything else.
Because there's nothing left to say.