Meet Scarlett Striker, a bold and quirky journalist for the Seattle Times. She's fun, confident, sassy, and just the right amount of weird. Scarlett is determined to rise to the top, no matter what it takes.
When her boss offers a golden opportunity...
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The warm glow of the fireplace fills Elizabeth's apartment, casting flickering shadows across the walls. We're curled up on her plush couch, both nursing glasses of red wine. Elizabeth looks as composed as ever, her hair swept back in a loose bun, but the tension in her shoulders betrays her. She takes a long sip of her wine, her piercing gaze fixed on me.
It's Valentine's Day. I've never been one for the Hallmark romance of it all, but today holds a strange sort of weight, like I'm on the brink of something irreversible. Moving in with James—it feels massive. And, strangely enough, it's the perfect excuse for Elizabeth to finally cut ties with Chris. She's almost fully healed now, both of us moving on in our own way.
"For the record," she says, stopping mid sip to glare at me, "this is the worst Valentine's Day ever."
I chuckle softly, taking another sip. "You say that every year."
"This year, I mean it," she retorts. "I'm back here after escaping Chris's penthouse, my father's still playing puppet master, and you're shacked up with a man who has a hit list. What's not to love?"
"Shacked up is a strong term," I say with a smirk, placing my wine on the coffee table. "And hey, at least your apartment is cozy. It's got that 'reclaiming-my-life' energy."
Elizabeth raises a brow, unimpressed. "Spare me the pep talk. You've been suspiciously quiet about James lately."
I shift in my seat, adjusting the blanket over my legs. "Not much to tell. He's... James."
Elizabeth sighs, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. I chew on the inside of my cheek. These past two weeks I've been trying to figure out what exactly to do when that month runs up. Two more weeks. Who knows what her father is capable of.
"Anything happening lately?" I ask after a few moments of silence.
"Nothing new. Just trying to keep a low profile. No, I haven't heard from my father," she says preemptively, her tone laced with irritation. "Not since his last cryptic threat."
