“Anastasios may have insisted I transfer the manuscript to you, but I haven’t lost Scarlett,” I insist.

To his credit, Casey does try to hide his skepticism, but I’ve known him long enough to see it. And that’s all it takes to have me running to the elevator, trying to catch Scarlett before she leaves despite the protests of my two friends. Because if she walks out of this building and disappears like last time, I’ll never forgive myself.

She’s nowhere to be found when I get to the elevator, so I get in as fast as I can and go to the ground level. Maybe I can see her before she gets to her car. Uselessly, I push the button about ten times before the door closes and I start my descent.

But when the elevator door opens on Scarlett and Charles Hall standing in the lobby, I pause. When he sneers at her, using her full name no less, I see red. Even though I know he would murder me if I were to try, I still want to wipe the floor with him. I want to tell him to get her beautiful name out of his filthy mouth.

Her name. He knows her name. Of course he does; I used her real name when they met in some kind of power move to try to prove to him that I knew her better than he ever could and she was mine.

And suddenly, I know exactly who did this to her. It was this piece of shit with his back to me, probably trying to make some kind of statement like I don’t matter.

I take a couple of tentative steps forward to try to step in but stop myself short. If this is my fault, I should fix it. But Scarlett gives him a look like he isn’t fit to wipe the scum off her shoes. It stops me in my tracks, that look. The last time I saw it, she was calling me pedantic in a noisy bar. Except then, it was edged with a bit of humor. Now she looks like she’s going to squash him in exactly the way he deserves.

Scarlett owns him. She’s cool and calm and collected in a way I haven’t seen in a long, long time. It’s amazing. Inspiring, even. It’s a privilege to watch.

Even when he says that leaving is kind of her thing, she shows no weakness. I know that must hurt like hell, but she just narrows her eyes and says, “You know what, Charles? You’re right—it is my thing. And you’re lucky it is. You’re the kind of trash that takes itself out, so I am going to leave now so I can stand by and watch it happen.”