Scarlett (Second Edition) by Karima Saad Usman novel Chapter 91

Chapter 91

Scarlett’s POV

Lucian’s voice echoed in my mind, sharp and filled with a bitterness that cut deep. “If you wanted to leave, all you had to do was say so, Scarlett. You went too far,” he accused, and though his tone stung, I held onto the sound of his voice. Even angry, it was a connection, a reminder that he hadn’t entirely abandoned me.

“I didn’t do it,” I whispered back, my voice breaking, desperation thick my words.

“Bianca has no reason to lie,” he replied, unwavering. “We trust her with our lives, Scarlett. Her family has served ours for generations. She would never betray us.” His faith in her was absolute, a foundation built over years of loyalty. 1 could feel the weight of his conviction, fris certainty pressing against me,

unmoving.

“But I am a Vladislav,” I said softly, letting the truth of it hang between us. “A tyrant’s daughter. There was silence on his end, a hesitation, and for a moment, I thought he might be listening, that maybe he was searching for a reason to believe me. But even that hope faded as he spoke again.

“We’ll send you warm clothes and investigate. I want to believe you, Scarlett, but the evidence… it’s damning. I had Bianca flogged, and still, she maintained her story. I threatened to cast her out, but she didn’t waver.” His voice cracked, the hurt seeping through. “If you’d only told me… we would have let you go. I would have tried with Stasia again, even if I don’t love her. You made me end that bond, Scarlett, and for what? To try to leave us?”

His words tore at my heart. The betrayal he felt was a heavy weight between us, pulling us apart. He didn’t believe me; not truly. Bianca’s lie was a net, tightening around me with every word he spoke, her fabricated tale woven so tightly that not even Lucian, who once held my heart with unwavering faith,

could see through it.

“Bianca took her punishment without a confession,” he continued, his tone hardening. “If it was a lie, she would have broken. You left me no choice but to

believe her.”

The finality in his words crushed me, and I felt the last threads of my hope unravelling. The belief and trust that had once formed the bond between us had been shattered. And though I tried to hold on, to cling to the love we’d once shared, I could feel it slipping through my fingers, as distant as the light from the small window in this cold, dark cell.

“Please,” I choked out, tears streaming down my face. “Believe me. I would never do that to you, to any of you. I love you…” But the link snapped shut, Lucian closing me out before he heard the last part.

I was alone again, left with only the silence of my cell and the raw, aching emptiness of a love that might never be mended. Curling up on the hard

r mattress, I felt the coldness of the room settle around me, pressing in, as heavy as the weight of Lucian’s words. They echoed in my mind long after he was gone, a constant reminder of how far I’d fallen, how alone I truly was.

Days blurred together as I settled into the monotonous, punishing routine they had assigned me. The clothes they brought were thin, barely enough to keep out the bite of winter’s cold, and I was fed once a day if I was lucky. Each morning, I trudged to the farm, breaking through the frost–covered soil with hands that had grown raw and calloused. Farming in the snow was brutal, each step a reminder of my isolation, each task a silent testament to how far I’d fallen.

Two weeks passed, each day colder, lonelier than the last. My mind felt stretched thin, like it was slowly slipping from my grasp. No one spoke to me, and when they looked at me, it was with contempt.

People hurled insults and sometimes even rocks as i worked, treating me like an outcast–a criminal who didn’t deserve a second glance. I had become invisible in their eyes, yet I felt their scrutiny as if they expected me to bolt at any moment. There was no hope of escape; I was too closely watched, too hated to be given a moment’s respite.

At night, I curled up on the hard mattress in my cell, trying to keep warm with what little I had. Hunger gnawed at me constantly, and the loneliness was

11:27 am Pp –

Chapter 91

like a weight pressing down on my chest, suffocating. On the worst nights, when the silence felt too loud, I talked to myself, forcing laughter just to hear a sound that wasn’t filled with malice. It was desperate, but it kept me from completely losing myself in the void.

When I could, I took small amounts of Garnicia poller to help me sleep, using it as a makeshift solace. The numbness it brought was a brief mercy, dulling the relentless ache in my head, the hunger in my stomach, and the ever–present sting of my heartache. It felt like the only thing keeping me tethered to reality, yet I feared it was also pulling me closer to the edge of something darker.

I often wondered about that night, replaying every detail, every decision, trying to find a way I could have avoided this nightmare. But no matter how i looked at it, as long as Bianca was an enemy, there was no way I could have escaped her trap. Perhaps she had never forgiven me for the punishment her

daughter had once received, and this was her final revenge. I hoped she was pleased with her work.

My feet were cracked and sore, my lips chapped from the cold, and I had lost so much weight that my clothes hung loosely on my body. Every night, I braced myself for the inevitable pain from the mate bond, wondering when they’d finally move on, when the sting of their absence would deepen into something unbearable. But the pain never came. Somehow, they remained celibate, their distance deliberate, as if they were making themselves scarce to prolong the

silence between us.

The isolation became my new companion, a familiar weight that pressed against my thoughts, warping them. I spoke to the voice in my head when the silence became too much, clinging to any sound, any distraction. When the headaches came, I relied on the Garnicia to numb them, sometimes taking more than I should, hoping for peace, hoping for rest. Some nights, I dared to hope I wouldn’t wake up, that the numbness would carry me into a sleep I wouldn’t

return from.

Yet, each morning, I opened my eyes, facing another day of silence, of labor, of solitude. The hope I’d once carried was slipping, replaced by a resignation I’d never thought possible.