Awakened Housewife Ignore Betrayer's Begs (Scarlett) novel Chapter 132

Chapter 132 Reluctant Guardian

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Vanessa’s disappointment was etched clearly across her face. Though visibly unhappy with the arrangement, she knew she had no other options. She muttered under her breath, “Alright,

fine.”

Deep down, she understood the reality of the situation. With Sabrina gone, Scarlett was the only one left to take care of her.

After Lily led Vanessa upstairs to begin their bedtime routine, Vincent immediately pulled out his phone and dialed Scarlett’s number.

The phone rang four times before Scarlett finally answered. Her voice came through the receiver like a sheet of ice. “What do you want?”

There was no warmth in her tone, no hint of familiarity-she sounded like she was speaking to a complete stranger rather than the father of her child.

Vincent didn’t bother with pleasantries or small talk. He went straight to the point. “Come over tomorrow morning. You need to take Vanessa to school.”

Scarlett’s initial instinct was to refuse-to reject the request without a second thought. But then she remembered the promise she’d made to Vincent, the commitment to be more present as a mother for Vanessa’s sake. With a reluctant sigh that conveyed her displeasure, she finally agreed, “Okay.”

The next morning, Scarlett arrived precisely on time-she might not have wanted to be there, but punctuality was a matter of principle for her.

She had briefly considered preparing breakfast earlier, but then Vanessa’s previous words echoed in her mind. “Don’t get up early to cook, it’ll wake Sabrina.”

If my own daughter doesn’t appreciate the effort, why should I bother trying? So she’d decided against making anything at all.

When she entered the house, she found that Lily had already prepared an impressive spread,

Scarlett quietly took a seat at the dining table, pulled out her phone, and began scrolling through the morning news to pass the time.

Vincent and Vanessa still hadn’t come downstairs. Scarlett assumed they were probably still asleep, and since it was still early-just past seven-she decided to wait patiently rather than rushing them.

She had barely finished reading the first headline when she heard footsteps descending the stairs. Looking up, she saw Vincent-still wearing his bathrobe, his hair slightly disheveled from

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sleep-walking directly toward her, his eyes locked on her as if she were the only person in the

room.

Before Scarlett could fully process what was happening, he was standing right in front of her. His robe was slightly unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a glimpse of his honey-toned chest and the faint outline of well-defined muscles.

A sudden, unwelcome memory flashed through her mind-the feeling of his arms around her, how solid and warm he had felt. The thought made her throat go dry, and she quickly averted her gaze, feeling her cheeks grow warm. She didn’t want Vincent to notice how flustered he still made her feel.

After a long, tense silence-so prolonged that Scarlett began to wonder if he intended to stand there indefinitely-Vincent finally spoke, his voice calm yet firm, “Iron my shirt for me.”

Scarlett frowned, her eyes scanning the empty dining room. They were completely alone-no Lily, no Vanessa in sight. So he was definitely speaking to her.

She looked up at him, her tone sharp with defiance. “Lily’s in the kitchen. Ask her to do it.”

She knew perfectly well that Sabrina was his favorite-he would never dream of asking Sabrina to perform such a mundane chore.

She remembered how, in the past, she would have jumped at the chance to iron his shirt. She would have interpreted it as a sign of his trust, perhaps even felt grateful that he had turned to her.

But that was then. Now? She had absolutely no interest in playing the dutiful wife.

Vincent’s eyes darkened at her refusal-she could clearly see the flicker of irritation in his gaze. After a moment’s pause, he retorted, his voice edged with challenge, “Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to do it?”

He didn’t say it explicitly, but the implication hung heavily in the air between them.

Scarlett let out a dry, humorless laugh, refusing to back down. “I’m about to eat breakfast. Either do it yourself or ask Lily. Vincent, I’m not ironing for you.”

She deliberately didn’t mention Sabrina-she didn’t need to. They both knew he would never put Sabrina in that position.

Vincent stared at her for what felt like an eternity, his jaw clenched tight. Scarlett waited for him to argue, to insist, but he didn’t. Finally, without another word, he turned and walked back upstairs, leaving her alone at the table.

Scarlett managed to eat a small bowl of Lily’s oatmeal and a fried egg, but her appetite had vanished. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was almost 7:40-Vanessa would be late for school if

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she didn’t leave soon.

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Unable to wait any longer, she pushed back her chair and headed upstairs to wake Vanessa.

Just as she’d expected, Vanessa was still fast asleep, curled up snugly beneath her blankets. Scarlett shook her gently, informing her that she was running late, then stepped back and allowed her to get ready on her own.

Vanessa was a responsible child-the moment she heard the word “late”, she snapped awake, her eyes wide with alarm, and scrambled out of bed to rush to the bathroom.

Scarlett didn’t hover or fuss over her like she might have in the past. She simply said, “I’ll be waiting downstairs,” and turned to leave, whether Vanessa had heard her or not.

As she walked back down the hallway, she passed Vincent’s bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and she couldn’t help but peek inside. What she saw made her pause-Vincent was holding an iron in one hand, staring at his dress shirt as if it were some mysterious foreign object-as if he had absolutely no idea how to use the device.

He made several attempts, lifting the iron and hovering it uncertainly over the fabric, but never actually pressing it down.

Scarlett stood in the doorway, a complex mix of emotions swirling within her—a touch of sadness, because he didn’t even know how to perform this basic task for himself, and a hint of amusement, because he looked so utterly lost. Before she could consciously decide to intervene, she found herself pushing the door open and stepping inside.

Vincent heard her entrance and glanced over his shoulder. When he saw it was Scarlett, his expression became completely blank-no surprise, no warmth, just a cold, impassive mask. He didn’t utter a word.

Scarlett walked over to him and extended her hand, her voice flat and emotionless. “Give it to me.”

Vincent hesitated, his grip tightening momentarily on the iron. For a second, she thought he might refuse, but then he let out a quiet sigh and handed it over to her.

Scarlett took the iron and began working, her movements smooth and practiced.

When she flipped it over to work on the other side, a faint but distinct scent reached her nose— sweet, floral, unmistakably feminine perfume. She didn’t need to guess whose it was. It was Sabrina’s.

The realization made her pause, her mind beginning to wander. Distracted by her thoughts, before she knew what was happening, her hand accidentally brushed against the section of fabric she had just ironed. It was scorching hot-so hot that she yelped in pain, instinctively pulling her hand back.

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Vincent heard her sharp intake of breath and frowned, his voice flat and noticeably lacking in concern. “Are you okay?”

He stood merely a few feet away, close enough to have reached out, but he made no move to check on her. He didn’t even glance at her hand to see if it was burned.

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Awakened Housewife Ignore Betrayer’s Begs