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Synopsis
Everyone in the city's underworld knew Julian Cole and I were two cutthroats made for each other.
I was cold and calculating; he was bloodthirsty and ruthless. Leaning on one another, we carved our empire out of a mountain of corpses, ruling this city with an iron fist.
Julian once swore he would love me until the day he died.
Until the day he took a bullet for me and met a little nurse named Clara. She patched his wounds, cooked him warm soup, and promised him the ordinary, peaceful home he had never known.
Julian fell for it.
Now, holding the hand of his pregnant little nurse, he finally laid his cards on the table:
"Scarlett, you will always be my only wife. But let Clara stay, please?"
I stared at him for a very long time before finally nodding.
"Why...?" I asked softly.
Julian lowered his head. "I'm sorry. I'm just tired."
He thought I was asking why his heart had strayed.
He was wrong.
I was only mourning the fact that of all the men I had kept around over the years, Julian was the one who looked most like *him*.
In the end, he was useless after all.
I turned, stepping into the shadows, and gave a cold command:
"Kill them. Make it clean."
The moment the words left my mouth, guards lurking in the shadows drew their blades, stepping straight toward Clara.
A suffocating wave of murderous intent flooded the room.
"No! Julian—" Clara shrieked, terrified, shrinking entirely behind Julian’s back.
Julian immediately shielded her, glaring up at me in outrage.
"Scarlett Kane, what the hell is the meaning of this?!"
"Scarlett Kane..."
Leaning back into the leather sofa, I rolled my full name over my tongue with a faint, amused smile.
"Julian, how long has it been since you called me by my first and last name?"
"The last time... was five years ago when you proposed to me, wasn't it? How nostalgic."
Julian’s eyes flickered with a brief hesitation.
I lit a slim cigarette, letting the smoke drift between us as my eyes shifted to the trembling figure behind him.
"Miss Hayes, if I recall correctly, your name was on the charity list of students I funded through college."
"You ate off my plate, lived on my dime, and now you’re here to steal my husband? Don't you think that’s poor manners?"
Clara was scared out of her wits.
At my words, her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor with a hard *thud*.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Kane!" she sobbed.
"I know what I did was wrong, but Julian and I truly love each other. Please, I beg you, let us be together!"
She even moved to press her forehead against the floor, but Julian quickly pulled her to her feet. He whispered a few gentle comforts before turning back to face me.
"Scarlett, there’s no need to be this cruel."
"If you can't stand having Clara under this roof, I'll take her and leave. The three north harbor docks are yours. Consider it my repayment for what she owes you."
Silence descended upon the grand hall.
Everyone in the room understood what that meant: he was severing all ties with me.
Looking at that familiar face, I slowly exhaled two smoke rings.
I gave him one final chance.
"Julian, are you certain you want to keep her?"
Julian looked down, his thumb gently wiping away Clara's tears. When he looked up, his jaw was set with resolve:
"Let Clara stay, Scarlett. She's gentle. She won’t ever threaten your position."
"I’m just... tired of the blood."
The cigarette burned down to the filter, searing my skin with a sharp sting.
Hopeless.
I stubbed the butt out in the crystal ashtray and turned to my butler.
"Have the second-floor sunroom prepared for Miss Hayes. Call Dr. Miller as well. She’s pregnant, after all—it wouldn't do to stress the baby."
The tension drained from Julian’s face.
He thought I had compromised.
He took a step forward, looking as if he wanted to offer a few sweet words. "Scarlett, I—"
I raised a hand, cutting him off without a word.
"It's late. Take Miss Hayes to rest."
Seeing my icy expression, Julian merely nodded, wrapped his arm around Clara, and walked away.
Only when their footsteps faded completely did I let out a soft, hollow sigh.
"Arthur... he doesn't look like Silas anymore."
The old butler shook his head gently, offering a quiet murmur of comfort:
"Miss Kane, Mr. Silas was one of a kind. There will never be another like him."
"This one is merely a cheap imitation. He has the face, but not the soul... You don't need to break your heart over him."
I closed my eyes, sinking deep into the dark embrace of the couch.
After a long silence, Arthur stepped closer, asking carefully:
"Are you... still reluctant to let him go?"
I scoffed softly and opened my eyes. There was not a trace of warmth in them.
"Reluctant over a counterfeit? Never. I'm just trying to decide what kind of death is too good for him."
"Find an opportunity to ruin that face."
The lighter clicked, its small flame illuminating my features as I lit another cigarette. My voice carried a dark, obsessive edge:
"I will not tolerate him dying with Silas's face."
I tilted my head, flashing Arthur an innocent, cruel smile.
"Besides, I'm not the only one who wants him dead."
"Isn't that right, Miss Hayes?"*Knock, knock, knock.*
The study door was pushed open frantically by Marcus, Julian’s right-hand man.
"Boss! Mr. Cole was ambushed at the docks this morning. The warehouse blew up. His face... it's badly burned. Luckily, he survived."
Marcus hesitated, glancing at my expression before continuing:
"Miss Hayes is tending to him, but the syndicates are in chaos. She doesn't know how to handle the business."
"Mr. Cole wants you to come take charge."
I let out a faint laugh. Typical Julian.
When blood needed to be spilled and fires put out, he came running to me. When he wanted domestic bliss, he ran to his sweet little nurse.
I closed the folder, stood up, and said:
"Lead the way."
Outside the hospital room door, Clara’s soft, pleading voice drifted through the crack:
"Julian, you promised me, remember?"
"Leave all the bloody, dangerous work to Scarlett. We're going to step away from all this violence and live a normal life. Isn't that what you always wanted?"
Julian hesitated, trying to reason:
"But I've always taken the bullets for her. If she runs into danger..."
Clara's voice instantly broke into a tearful, mournful wail:
"If you won't think of yourself, what about our baby?"
"Our child is so small. It can't grow up without a father."
Looking at Clara’s slightly swollen belly, Julian gave in.
"Fine. When she gets here, I'll make things clear."
Right then, Marcus cleared his throat behind me.
The two inside turned around, their faces freezing in awkward embarrassment when they realized I had been standing at the door listening.
I didn't care in the slightest.
My gaze was locked entirely on Julian’s face. Heavy layers of white gauze wrapped his head, crimson blood seeping through the edges.
Good. That face was thoroughly ruined.
Satisfied, I smiled serenely.
"Since Miss Hayes put it so nicely, focus on recovering. I spoke with the doctor; you can be discharged this afternoon. You'll have scars, but with proper care, you'll live."
"Don't worry about business out there. I'll handle everything."
With my blessing, Julian conveniently dumped all the danger, turf wars, and messy syndicate politics onto my shoulders, immersing himself completely in his love nest with Clara.
Three days after his discharge, late at night, I walked into the penthouse smelling of fresh blood, only to catch Julian pinning Clara against the wall in the living room, kissing her deeply.
The air froze for a few seconds.
Julian shoved Clara away in a panic, eyeing the dark, wet stains on the hem of my trench coat. Guilt flickered in his eyes.
"Are you... okay?"
I gave a curt nod without a word, turning to head upstairs.
"Wait!" Julian called out.
"Can you clean yourself up outside before coming home next time?" he frowned. "Clara can't stand the smell of blood. It makes her throw up."
I paused, glancing back at them over my shoulder.
Clara shrank timidly behind Julian, looking at me like I was a monster.
"All right," I answered smoothly, turning back toward the stairs.
Julian had no idea.
The blood on my hem belonged to Marcus.
A few nights later, in the middle of a late-night video conference, I went down to the kitchen to refill my coffee. The moment my finger flicked the light switch, the bright glare exposed the filthy scene inside—
Julian had Clara pressed against the refrigerator door, their clothes torn open, tangled in raw, breathless passion.
Clara gasped, hiding her flushed face in Julian’s neck. Julian glared back at me, but this time, there was no guilt in his eyes.
Only pure annoyance at being interrupted.
"Get out!" he snarled.
I didn't say a word. I didn't even look twice.
Picking up the full pot of freshly brewed coffee, I stepped out of the kitchen and pulled the door shut behind me with polite care.
Back in the study, my captains waited silently on screen for orders:
"Too slow," I murmured, my voice flat.
"Accelerate the timetable. I want everything wrapped up within three days."
I glanced at the organizational chart of Julian’s core holdings on my desk, adding coolly:
"Burn down every last root he has in this city."
The night I killed Julian’s last loyal enforcer, it was pouring rain.
In the living room, Arthur was dressing a deep, bone-exposing slash on my forearm.
Julian came downstairs with his arm wrapped around Clara. His eyes swept indifferently over my gruesome wound, not bothering with a single word of courtesy. Instead, he slammed a thick stack of divorce papers onto the coffee table in front of me.
His voice was cold and impatient:
"Scarlett, let's get a divorce."I remained silent, waiting patiently for Arthur to finish tying the bandage.
Only then did I speak quietly:
"You swore I would be your only wife."
Julian let out a weary sigh, presenting his righteous excuse:
"People change, Scarlett."
"I can't let my child be born a bastard."
With that, Julian bent down, gracefully offering a pen to my fingers:
"Sign it."
"Don't worry. In my heart, you'll always be my only true wife."
Only then did I finally lift my eyes to look at him.
His bandages had been removed today. Ugly, jagged scars crossed over his cheeks, puckered and mangled.
Tsk. Hideous.
It turned my stomach.
I raised my hand. Not to take the pen—
*SLAP!*
I slapped him across the face with everything I had.
Julian staggered back, completely caught off guard.
"Scarlett, you—"
I didn't give him a fraction of a second to breathe. Stepping forward, I gripped his collar, yanked him down, and whipped my hand back and forth across his face in a brutal flurry of strikes.
*Smack! Smack! Smack!*
Crisp, sickening cracks echoed in the room.
The fragile, newly healed tissue on his cheeks tore open immediately, spraying fresh blood over my skin.
Only when my palm was slick with his blood did I shove him away in disgust. Julian stumbled back several steps, barely catching his balance when Clara rushed forward to hold him up.
I took a wet wipe from Arthur and slowly, meticulously cleaned the blood from my fingers and palms.
"For the past two weeks, I've tolerated you far enough."
"Divorce?"
Before the word fully landed, I flicked my wrist, whipping the bloody wet wipe straight into his face.
It slapped wetly against his ruined cheek before sliding down to the floor.
I sneered:
"Who the hell do you think you are to ask me for a divorce?"
Fury flared in Julian’s eyes, his fists clenching until his knuckles popped.
The next second, armed guards stepped out from every shadowed corner of the estate like specters, forming a deadly perimeter around Julian and Clara. And this time, they weren't holding knives—they held semi-automatic rifles.
Julian froze.
He hadn't expected me to actually turn my weapons on him.
Glancing around warily, he stared at me in disbelief.
"Scarlett, what is the meaning of this?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Right before his eyes, I took a sleek pistol from Arthur’s hands and racked the slide with a clean, metallic *clack*.
The barrel pointed straight at his forehead.
Tilting my head, I asked in a teasing, mock-scolding tone:
"Your face was burned, Julian, not your eyes. Can't you tell?"
"I'm going to kill you."
Staring down the black muzzle of the gun, Julian’s initial panic was replaced by an arrogant confidence.
He shook his head, like an adult watching a child throw a tantrum:
"Scarlett, put the gun down. Don't let it go off and hurt Clara. Over the years, you've butchered my enemies, and I've taken bullets for you. I know how much you love me. You could never bring yourself to kill me."
Julian paused, his voice turning into a patronizing warning:
"Don't forget, we built this criminal empire together."
"Scarlett, you can't survive without me."
I held the gun steady, holding his gaze for a few seconds.
Then, slowly, I lowered my arm and tossed the pistol back to Arthur.
A flicker of smug triumph flashed in Julian’s eyes.
I leaned forward, scrawled my signature across the divorce papers, and shoved them against his chest.
"Get out."
Julian looked down at the document, a rare look of bewilderment crossing his features. He clearly hadn't expected me to let him go so easily. For a moment, his eyes seemed lost in the memory of the five years we’d spent clawing our way to the top together.
Until Clara tugged gently at his sleeve.
"Julian..."
Snapping back to reality, Julian tightened his grip around Clara and marched out of the mansion without looking back.
"Miss Kane, are you really letting him walk away?" Arthur asked softly.
"With his temperament, he may try to eliminate you. If we spook him..."
I chuckled silently, taking the gun back from Arthur’s hands.
"Spook him? Arthur, he's not a predator anymore. He's a worm waiting to be crushed."
"Didn't you notice? A few slaps and a light shove left him trembling, barely able to stand."
"And he worried about the gun going off? His senses are so fried he couldn't even tell the slide racked on an empty chamber."
*Click.*
One by one, I pushed heavy brass rounds into the magazine.
"It seems Clara took exceptional care of him. Whatever poison she's been dosing him with... it wasn't a small amount."
The moment the magazine snapped into place, I raised the gun and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
*BANG! BANG! BANG!*
Bullet after bullet tore into the massive, framed wedding portrait hanging in the center of the grand hall. Julian’s face in the portrait was shredded into bloody confetti.
"I run clean businesses now. The messy, bloody vengeance..."
I smirked. "I'll let Miss Hayes finish it for me."
My hands needed to stay clean.Things played out exactly as Arthur predicted.
The moment Julian left the mansion, paranoia took over.
He scrambled to contact his most trusted lieutenants, only to find every phone line dead. The few old associates he managed to reach stammered evasively, making up excuses that they were out of the country.
Worse, his core assets began falling like dominoes. His shares were frozen under sudden "regulatory fraud investigations," and his offshore bank accounts were locked down without warning.
Julian was losing his mind.
He knew with absolute certainty that this was my doing, but stripped of muscle and money, he didn't dare confront me openly.
I watched in amusement as he scurried around the city like a headless rat.
I had planned to toy with him a little longer.
Unexpectedly, Clara lost her patience first.
Six months pregnant, she emptied every last dime from Julian’s hidden emergency accounts and vanished into thin air.
Her sudden disappearance incinerated whatever sanity Julian had left. He instantly convinced himself that I had kidnapped her to force him back into my arms.
He didn't storm my gates, though. Instead, he called me.
His voice was hoarse, ragged, laced with desperate sorrow and faux-repentance:
"Scarlett, I was wrong."
"That bitch Clara took all my money and ran off with another man!"
"You're all I have left. Can we start over? Just like the day I first met you, in that old warehouse on the west docks. Let's talk. Please."
I smiled faintly, tapping my manicured nails against the mahogany desk.
"All right."
The old warehouse on the west docks.
The heavy iron door groaned shut behind me, sealing out the daylight and city noise. The moment I stepped into the center of the cavernous hall, a figure lunged out from behind a mountain of rusted shipping crates.
Julian stood there, a gun trembling in his hand, aimed squarely at my chest.
"Scarlett, give my life back!" he snarled like a wounded dog.
"The syndicates, the shares, the money... you took it all! Give it back, and I won't kill you!"
"Give it back?"
I repeated the words with cold amusement.
"Julian, before you met me, you were just a two-bit thug guarding underground poker tables. All of those things were gifts I tossed you when I was in a good mood so you could play kingpin in this city."
"Now that I'm bored of you, I took them back. You take what you're given, and you choke on it."
Hearing my dismissive disdain, Julian’s breath grew ragged and violent.
"I bled for every single inch of that empire!" he roared.
I tilted my head, smiling at him as if he were an idiot.
"You bled? If I hadn't stepped in five years ago, your rotting corpse would still be lying right where you're standing. Stop flattering yourself."
My mockery made the jagged scars across his face twist in hideous spasms.
He snapped, changing the subject:
"Fine! To hell with the money! Where is Clara? What did you do to her?! Tell me!"
"I don't know."
Julian looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. His thumb cocked the hammer.
"Scarlett, for the sake of the years we spent together, I'm giving you one last chance. Don't think I won't pull this trigger!"
"Where the hell is Clara?!"
I frowned, genuinely annoyed by his screeching.
"I said: I. Don't. Know."
My refusal snapped his final thread of control. With a primal roar, he raised the barrel straight between my eyes and squeezed the trigger.
Yet—
In the split second before the hammer fell, his wrist jerked slightly to the side.
He couldn't do it. He went soft.
*Pop.*
A weak, pathetic blank discharged, a soft wad of cotton bouncing harmlessly off my shoulder before tumbling to the concrete floor.
Silence froze the room.
Julian froze in disbelief, his wrath collapsing into blank shock. He stared dumbly at the ridiculous cotton pellet on the ground.
While he was frozen, I watched a slender figure slip out from the shadows behind him, raising a heavy steel revolver.
I smirked, speaking in an exaggerated, theatrical drawl:
"Oh, wait. Now I know."
"Turn around, Julian. The person you're looking for—"
"Is standing right behind you."
Chapters (4)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Watch & Promotions
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