Chapter 7

Scarlett POV:

My twentieth birthday arrived. The grand ballroom of the Golden Thorn was filled with the most powerful people in Texas. I stood backstage, feeling numb, my maids fussing over the train of my gown.

A man in a sharp suit approached. "Ms. O'Connell? A delivery for you, from Mr. Prescott."

He opened a long, flat box. Inside, resting on black silk, was a necklace that stole my breath. It was a river of pigeon-blood red diamonds. The placard read: "The Desert's Heart." The man smiled. "Mr. Prescott asked me to pass on a message. He said, 'Anyone who tries to humiliate a Prescott partner will find they have made a very powerful enemy.'"

A genuine smile, the first in weeks, touched my lips. The cold weight of the jewels felt like armor.

The party reached its peak. My father stood at the microphone on the grand stage, beaming with pride. "And now," he boomed, his voice filling the ballroom, "I have the great pleasure of announcing the engagement of my beloved daughter, Scarlett, to the man who will one day help her lead this empire!"

A hush fell over the crowd. Everyone leaned forward, their eyes fixed on Jax.

Across the room, I saw Sterling Prescott. He caught my eye and subtly tapped his heart twice with his fist, a silent question. I gave him the smallest, almost imperceptible nod. I won't back down.

Suddenly, the giant screens behind my father, which had been displaying a slideshow of my childhood photos, flickered and went dark. A moment later, they lit up again.

The video began. It was me, my face twisted in rage. "GET OUT!" my voice screamed from the speakers, distorted and monstrous. The camera, clearly hidden, shook as if in fear. It showed me pointing, my expression contorted. Then it cut to a close-up of Daisy-Mae, tears streaming down her face, her hands held up as if to ward off a blow.

The video was a masterpiece of malicious editing. It showed me screaming, throwing a vase against a wall in my grief (which happened after she left), and collapsing in a heap. It showed none of the context-the broken music box, Daisy-Mae's provocation. It only showed me as a violent, unhinged bully and her as the terrified victim.

The room erupted in shocked gasps. Whispers turned to horrified murmurs. "My God, she's unstable." "That poor girl, Daisy-Mae." "Cormac has a monster for a daughter."

My reputation was being systematically destroyed in front of everyone I had ever known.

My father, his face purple with rage, was shouting at the technicians, but they couldn't stop it. The video was on a loop.

Then, a figure broke from the crowd. It was Sterling. He didn't hesitate. He vaulted onto the stage, grabbed a heavy champagne stand, and with a roar of fury, smashed it directly into the projector.

Sparks flew. The screen went black.

In the ringing silence that followed, Sterling walked to the edge of the stage, his chest heaving. He looked directly at me, his eyes burning with a protective fire I had never seen from Jax.

He grabbed the microphone from my stunned father's hand.

"There seems to be some confusion here tonight," he announced, his voice shaking with controlled fury. "So let me make it perfectly clear. The man Scarlett O'Connell is going to marry... is me."