Awakened Housewife Ignore Betrayer's Begs (Scarlett) novel Chapter 681

Neither of them was willing to back down, their expressions locked in a tense standoff.

After what felt like an eternity, Vincent finally turned slowly toward Claire. His gaze was dismissive, almost bored, as he muttered, "Move aside."

Claire took a step forward, her voice icy. "And what if I don't? What are you going to do about it?"

Vincent didn't flinch, and for a long moment they simply stood there, squared off in silence.

The air grew thick and uncomfortably still.

Then, Scarlett turned her head gently. Reaching out, she laid a hand on Claire's arm. "It's alright, Claire," she said quietly. "Let me talk to him myself."

Claire glanced at her, concern flickering in her eyes. "Scarlett, are you sure—"

Scarlett gave a firm, steady shake of her head. "I'll be fine. Really."

Seeing her resolve, Claire reluctantly stepped back, though her reluctance was plain to see.

Once Claire had moved away, Scarlett lifted her chin and met Vincent's eyes. "What is it you wanted to say to me, Vincent?"

"Just talk," he replied vaguely.

Scarlett didn't miss a beat. "I assume this is about the divorce."

Vincent didn't answer right away. Instead, he shrugged off his tailored jacket and draped it carefully over Scarlett's shoulders.

She glanced down at the fabric, still warm from his body, but didn't push it away. Instead, a faint, almost amused smile touched her lips. "Aren't you worried someone might snap a photo of this? If it got online, how would you explain it to Ms. Monroe?"

Vincent shrugged, his tone careless. "Sabrina isn't the type to make a scene over something like this."

Scarlett let out a soft, humorless laugh. She studied his face, her voice tinged with something like curiosity. "Do you even know her at all?"

Vincent said nothing, his silence speaking volumes as he just watched her.

After another pause, Scarlett laughed again—this time colder, more detached. She reached up, took hold of the jacket, and slid it off her shoulders, the warmth already fading.

Holding it out toward him, she said, "Thank you, but I'm past needing this."

Her words carried a weight that went beyond the jacket, and it was hard to tell whether Vincent caught her meaning.

But he must have, because he stared down at the jacket in her hands and made no move to take it back.

Vincent hesitated. "Is there no chance we could... not go through with the divorce?"

Scarlett's reply was immediate. "If you won't agree, then yes, we go to court."

Vincent's voice hardened almost imperceptibly. "If you go down this road, there's no coming back for us."

Scarlett sat still in her wheelchair, a far cry from the woman who once looked at Vincent as if he were her whole world.

Her eyes were cool, her voice even cooler. "From the moment I filed, I never looked back. I'll see you in court, Vincent."

With that, she began to turn her wheelchair away.

But before she could move far, Vincent's hand came down on the back of the chair, stopping it. He walked around until he was facing her, then slowly lowered himself to one knee. Looking up into her eyes—which were rimmed with red but dry—he asked one last time, "Are you really sure about this?"

Scarlett didn't hesitate. "Yes. I am."

Vincent still couldn't let go. "Once the divorce is final," he said, his voice low, "Vanessa and I... We won't be yours anymore."

At the mention of Vanessa, Scarlett's eyes glistened, but her voice didn't waver. "Vincent, I don't hold onto things that were never meant to be mine. Since you and Vanessa both care for Sabrina, I'll step aside. All I ask is that you let me go, too."