13 Asher
“The say the truth will set you free, but they don’t tell you that it can break you first.”
The second Scarlett drops her fork, every instinct in my body fires at once.
The sharp clatter echoes across the kitchen island, but I’m already watching her.
Her breathing turns shallow while her eyes fix somewhere far beyond this room.
Harper says her name first, confused, but Scarlett doesn’t answer.
She looks… gone. Like she’s standing in the middle of a memory she can’t escape.
“Scarlett.” I step closer immediately.
Nothing.
Her fingers tremble slightly against the edge of the counter.
A cold knot forms low in my stomach. Roman notices it too because he quietly sets his glass down and moves around the island.
Declan straightens, all humor disappearing instantly.
Zariah watches Scarlett carefully. Then Scarlett finally whispers something so quietly I barely hear it.
“He isn’t my father.” The entire room freezes.
“What?” Harper blurts instantly.
Declan’s brows shoot upward. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Scarlett—” Roman starts.
“Who isn’t your father?” Zariah asks sharply. Questions start hitting her from every direction at once.
“What are you talking about?”
“Who said that?”
“When did you find this out?”
“Scarlett look at me—”
Her breathing gets worse. Faster. Panicked. She looks trapped.
“Enough!” My voice cracks through the kitchen hard enough to silence everyone instantly. Every head turns toward me. I don’t care, because Scarlett looks seconds away from completely shutting down. I move directly in front of her, grabbing her shoulders gently before turning her toward me fully.
“Hey.”
Her eyes still look distant, too far away. I lower myself slightly until I’m at eye level with her and cup her face carefully between my hands. Her skin feels freezing cold.
“Red,” I say quietly.
Finally, her eyes flick toward mine. There you are.
“What are you talking about?” I ask softly. “Talk to me.”
Her throat moves like she’s struggling to swallow.
“I…” Her voice shakes slightly. “I remembered something, it was like I was right there just now.” The room stays silent behind us now, nobody interrupts. I brush my thumb lightly along her cheek without even thinking about it.
“What did you remember?”
Scarlett blinks slowly like she’s trying to pull herself back into the present.
“A dinner party,” she whispers. “From when I was little. There were chandeliers… violin music… my grandfather’s office…” She presses a trembling hand lightly against her forehead. “I went looking for candy.”
Roman and Declan exchange a quick glance behind her. I stay focused completely on Scarlett.
“You overheard something.”
Not a question. She nods weakly.
“My mom was arguing with my grandfather.”
Every muscle in my body tightens. Scarlett finally looks directly at me again.
“She said Thomas could never find out.” Scarlett’s voice turns quieter.
“She said…” Her breathing catches slightly. “She said if he even suspected for one second that I wasn’t his…” Her eyes shine suddenly. “…I could be in danger.”
Harper goes pale beside Roman.
“Oh my God.”
Scarlett shakes her head immediately like she doesn’t fully believe what she’s saying.
“I don’t know why I remember it now,” she says quickly. “It was so odd, I was just sitting here and then I wasn’t—like my whole mind was there and not here—”
“Hey.” I tighten my grip gently against her face until her eyes lock back onto mine. “Breathe.”
She takes one shaky breath and then another. Good girl.
“What else?” I ask carefully.
Her brows pull together while she fights through the memory.
“My grandfather said…” She squeezes her eyes shut briefly.
“He said she was born into this whether we wanted it or not.”
The room is suddenly filled with heavy silence, and questioning looks from my brothers, because every person in this room is thinking the exact same thing now.
Scarlett has been connected to this long before any of us realized. Harper suddenly steps closer.
“Wait.” Her face tightens with confusion. “I remember that party.”
Scarlett looks at her immediately.
“You do?” Harper nods slowly.
“You disappeared for like twenty minutes and your mom freaked out trying to find you.” She frowns slightly. “Scar… why didn’t you ever tell me this before?”
Scarlett’s expression crumples slightly at the edges.
“I don’t know, I don’t remember anything about it before right now.” The vulnerability in her voice hits me harder than it should. Like she’s genuinely terrified of her own memories. Zariah leans forward slowly against the counter.
“Trauma can bury memories deep,” she says carefully. “Especially in children.”
“So, Thomas doesn’t know,” Declan says slowly.
“Or didn’t,” Zariah counters. That thought lands like a grenade in the middle of the kitchen. Scarlett goes rigid in front of me instantly.
“No.” I immediately tighten my hold on her slightly.
“Easy.” Her breathing starts picking up again.
“If he found out—”
“We don’t know that he did,” I cut in firmly.
“But what if he did?” she whispers with fear in her voice.
Fear not for herself but for what all of this means and for what kind of man Thomas might actually be if her mother feared him finding out the truth.
I feel anger stir low and vicious in my chest towards every person who lied to her, to every secret shoved onto her shoulders before she was old enough to carry them, to whoever turned her life into something dangerous enough that a mother would whisper warnings behind closed doors.
Scarlett’s eyes search mine desperately now.
“What if my whole life was a lie?”
The question guts something inside me instantly, because I don’t think she realizes yet that it probably was and somehow that only makes me want to protect her more.
The kitchen stays silent for several long seconds after Scarlett’s words.
I can practically hear everyone thinking.
Scarlett still stands directly in front of me, breathing unevenly while I keep my hands lightly against her face.
She looks overwhelmed. Exhausted. Like her entire world just cracked open beneath her feet.
And honestly?
Maybe it did.
Declan is the one who finally moves first. The shift in him is immediate. He pushes away from the wall and looks directly at Zariah.
“When you go back,” he says calmly, “I want you watching for anything tied to lineage records, blood testing, private medical files, inheritance transfers, anything involving sealed family documents.”
Zariah nods immediately, already mentally cataloging. Declan continues pacing slowly beside the island.
“If Thomas suspected Scarlett wasn’t biologically his, somebody would’ve covered it. Especially if her mother and grandfather were already scared of him finding out.”
Roman folds his arms tightly.
“Or someone else finding out.”
“Exactly,” Declan says. Scarlett goes rigid against my hands. I immediately rub my thumb lightly along her cheek. Declan looks back toward Zariah again.
“Pay attention to Celeste too.”
Zariah’s brows narrow slightly. “You think she knows something?”
“I think Celeste notices more than people give her credit for,” Declan replies. “And if security tightened that hard around the party, she’s gonna keep throwing tantrums until somebody slips again.”
Zariah nods slowly.
“She was already spiraling tonight.”
“Good,” Declan mutters darkly. “People make mistakes when they’re emotional.”
Roman glances toward Scarlett finally. “She needs rest.”
I look down at her immediately. God, She looks drained. Like she’s barely holding herself together now that the adrenaline is wearing off. Her eyes look glassy and too full of thoughts she shouldn’t have to carry alone.
“I’m taking her upstairs,” I say quietly.
Harper steps closer to Scarlett carefully and squeezes her hand once.
“We’ll figure this out, okay?” Scarlett nods weakly, but she doesn’t look convinced.
I slide an arm around her waist gently and lift her up and walk her toward the stairs. Her body leans slightly into mine like she’s exhausted enough to stop pretending she isn’t affected by any of this. The second we step into the bedroom; I place her carefully on the bed.
“Get comfortable,” I say softly and her eyes lift toward mine slowly.
“Asher—”
“Just breathe for a minute, Red.”
I brush my fingers lightly against her cheek once before stepping toward the bathroom.
The clawfoot tub sits beneath the large windows overlooking the dark woods beyond the property.
I turn the water on hot first, steam slowly filling the room while I reach for the eucalyptus Epsom salts beneath the sink.
The scent immediately starts softening the sharp tension hanging in my chest.
Lavender next. I light the candles she always gravitates toward whenever she’s anxious.
Soft amber light flickers across the bathroom walls while the tub slowly fills.
It makes the room feel warm, safe and quiet.
Everything the world outside this room isn’t.
I walk back into the bedroom and immediately stop.
Scarlett sits silently at the edge of the bed wearing nothing but one of my T-shirts.
Her shoulders shake almost imperceptibly, she’s crying so quietly I almost don’t hear it.
Something painful twists hard in my chest.
Red.
She quickly wipes at her face, embarrassed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers instantly. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.” I cross the room without another word. Then carefully slide my hands beneath her thighs and back before lifting her into my arms. She lets out a tiny, startled breath and immediately curls instinctively against my chest.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur and her fingers twist lightly into the front of my shirt.
“I feel crazy.”
“No,” I say firmly while carrying her toward the bathroom. “You feel overwhelmed.”
The candlelight flickers softly across her face as I set her gently on the counter beside the tub.
Carefully—slowly—I reach for the hem of the oversized shirt she’s wearing.
Every movement gives her time to stop me.
She doesn’t. I pull the shirt gently over her head before setting it aside.
My hands skim softly along her skin afterward, not sexual, but comforting.
Like I’m trying to remind her she’s here and she is safe.