Chapter 2

Quentin paused, noticing for the first time a calm expression on Scarlet’s face. He forced a smile and set the bouquet aside. "I’ll get you something else next time."

Ariel, smiling softly, chimed in, "Scarlet, those rumors about me are swirling online again, and my new show is about to premiere. Can you help me clear them up?"

Scarlet had heard this at least ten times before, and each time she gave in. Everyone in the industry knew Scarlet's reputation for being tough, yet she always made exceptions for Ariel. But it never occurred to her that her closest friend might someday betray her.

A sudden urge to laugh welled up in Scarlet as she looked into Ariel's eyes, which she could no longer interpret. The promises of being best friends forever seemed so recent. This time, she wasn’t going to be anyone's scapegoat.

"Find someone else," she said.

Startled by Scarlet's firm refusal, Ariel was visibly taken aback. "Scarlet, I know you’ve done so much for me, but this time it’s really important. The internet is full of rumors about me, and I’m at a loss..."

Hearing about Ariel’s alleged affair, Quentin’s expression darkened. It was clear—whenever something involved Ariel, Quentin would instinctively worry.

Scarlet's gaze turned icy. "You know I've done a lot for you already. I’m not helping this time."

After everything she had done, what had she gained?

With eyes reddened, Ariel’s look at Scarlet sharpened before she stormed out. Quentin instinctively began to follow but stopped himself, a gesture Scarlet caught in the corner of her eye.

"Scarlet, Ariel is your best friend. What's wrong with helping her out one more time? Her work is challenging enough as it is—why can’t you be a bit more understanding?"

Whenever it was about Ariel, Quentin got unusually emotional, and this time was no different. Scarlet’s lips curled into a bitter smile.

For years, she had been constantly on the go, working long hours, isolating herself from her personal life. Had he ever shown concern for her? When she was publicly shamed and still working, was he ever by her side? Yet, Ariel just had to say a word, and his face was full of worry.

Looking into his eyes, she couldn’t understand his thoughts but felt her heart grow colder. "Why do I always have to clean up her messes?"

Quentin blinked, his expression hardening as his brow furrowed. "Ariel sees you as her closest friend, which is why she asks for your help. Do you really have to see her like that? She’s always thought of you as her dearest friend."

Scarlet froze. In all their time together, this was the first time Quentin had said these words to her. Dearest friend? Hadn’t she thought of Ariel the same way? She had tirelessly helped her get out of scandals and hooked her up with resources, always there when Ariel needed her. Yet the genuine care didn’t seem to be mutual.

She said nothing more, took a deep breath, and turned to leave.

Scarlet returned to the office and went straight to Winifred's desk, handing her a folder.

"Winifred, I want to apply to be a war correspondent."

Winifred paused for a moment. "Why? Didn’t you want to earn money to pay for your mate’s treatment? War correspondents don’t make much, and it’s incredibly grueling and exhausting. Are you sure you can handle it? It’s dangerous too..."

Scarlet clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms.

"I know. His illness is taken care of. I just need to get away from here—anywhere will do."

Winifred’s gaze lingered on her, remembering the vibrant woman who had first joined the company, now seeing only the fatigue and weariness etched on her face. She softened her tone:

"Alright, if you’re determined, I won’t stop you. The process will take about seven days, but in the meantime, keep up with your current duties."

Scarlet stood still for a couple of seconds.

"Okay, please keep my decision to leave confidential."

For five years, she had devoted herself to taking care of Quentin. He couldn’t move, so as soon as she finished work, she would rush home to look after him, splitting her time in half. Yet through all this, she never complained about fatigue.

Now, knowing the truth, Scarlet sighed. She was ready to live for herself.