They Wanted Her Gone, Now They Kneel by Evelyn Marlowe novel Chapter 3

Chapter 3 He Came To Take Her Back Himself

Stanley followed her out the doors, his voice slicing through the night, cold and sharp.
“So that’s it?” he demanded. “You’re really not going to apologize to Rebecca?”
Scarlett didn’t answer.
Her body was battered, her nerves stretched to the breaking point. After severing ties with the Joyner family and calling off her engagement, she was running on nothing but willpower.
She stopped walking.
Stanley curled his lips into a sneer.
Just like always.
Making a scene, pushing things to the edge—because she was afraid. Afraid the Joyner family would finally cut her off.
In the end, the family would still have to clean up her mess. For the sake of their reputation, they’d keep feeding her resources, propping her up in academic circles so she wouldn’t embarrass them further.
How predictable. How hypocritical.
Unlike Rebecca.
Rebecca had clawed her way up in just one year—earned her place as a core member of the research team, all on her own.
“You really crossed the line this time,” Stanley said icily. “When we get back, you’re gonna have to stand outside and think about what you did until Mom wakes up before you can come in. If you don’t—forget about forgiveness.”
Scarlett remained silent.
Stanley took that as hesitation. Regret.
She didn’t know how to back down—but she wanted to.
So, just like always, he crushed her first.
Then offered a reward.
“Once you apologize and fix the Joyner family’s image,” he added, his tone softening, “I’ll take you to dinner at Starhaus. Just the two of us.”
That line had never failed before.
She would cry, touched by his “kindness,” and obediently bow her head.
She had gone too far this time. It wouldn’t be easy to patch things up.
But he was stepping in as her brother. Surely she’d be grateful. Surely she’d see him as her savior.
So when she slowly turned around, Stanley felt a surge of certainty.
As expected.
Yet—oddly—there was a flicker of disappointment.
If she could’ve just walked away.
Just once.
He might’ve respected her.
What a shame.
Still, he was her brother. If she realized her mistake and wanted to make amends, he’d allow it.
The plan was already forming in his mind.
A press conference. Scarlett apologizing publicly. Rebecca forgiving her on stage.
The story would flip instantly: the adopted daughter lashed out in jealousy but found her way back. The Joyners were magnanimous, loving, forgiving.
Perfect.
Their public image would soar.
“Only I care about you this much,” Stanley said firmly. “I came here myself to bring you home. From now on, no more tantrums.”
Something inside Scarlett tore open.
Favor?
Was he talking about those little “gifts” he gave her every time she tried to leave?
A strawberry hair tie.
A cheap plush toy.
A pin from a vending machine.
Altogether, not even ten dollars.
She used to cherish the sentiment, not the price.
Now, she felt nothing but nausea.
“You—” Stanley started, then abruptly stopped.
Because he saw her face.
Scarlett was deathly pale. The wounds she’d barely held together had split open again, blood blooming across the white fabric in stark, violent patches.
He instinctively recoiled.
His pupils shrank.
For a split second, disbelief flashed across his face.
Was she really going this far just to keep up the act?
Did she actually want to get herself killed?
And like this—how was she supposed to appear at a press conference?
“You act so sincere,” Scarlett said quietly, “but behind the scenes, you’re calculating every step.”
She lifted her eyes to him. They were dark. Empty.
“Right now, all you’re thinking about is how to use me to salvage the Joyner family’s reputation. Isn’t that right, Mr. Stanley?”
She laughed suddenly.
But there was no humor in it—only despair.
“They say home is a safe harbor,” she murmured. “But for me… it’s where I wrecked myself the hardest.”
The words landed dead center.
Stanley’s heart skipped. Unease crept in—but he refused to acknowledge it.
“I just don’t want you making another mistake,” he insisted.
Scarlett let out a soft sigh.
“Still hiding behind ‘for your own good,'” she said. “Still using it to control me.”
She straightened.
But she wouldn’t fall for it anymore.
“You can wrap a trash can in a plastic bag,” she said calmly, “but it’s still dirty.”
Her gaze was steady.
“I never healed from any of those old wounds. So stop pretending. And if you try to block me again—”
Her voice dropped, cold and final.
“I won’t hesitate to drag the Joyner family’s name straight through the mud.”
She turned and walked away.
She didn’t look back.
It took Stanley a long moment to snap out of it.
She… left?
She actually left?
Impossible.
Fury surged through him. He slammed his fist into the wall.
He’d spoiled her too much.
She actually thought she was something special—like she really belonged.
But he calmed himself quickly.
Scarlett dared to challenge him only because she believed he’d always protect her.
Just wait.
She’d be back in less than three hours—crying, begging, apologizing.
Remembering how many times she’d folded before, with Rebecca always playing peacemaker, Stanley pulled out his phone and typed into the family group chat:
“If she comes back begging for forgiveness this time, none of you go soft. She needs to be taught a lesson.”
Scarlett had never been added to the family chat.
Not that it would’ve mattered.
She took a cab back to the tiny apartment she’d rented two years ago with scholarship money.
She showered.
Cleaned her wounds.
Collapsed into bed.
Sleep claimed her almost instantly.
She woke early the next morning—pure habit.
5:30 a.m.
That was the time she usually got up to prepare herbal supplements for Rebecca.
Even after leaving the Joyner family, her body hadn’t caught up.
She smiled bitterly and rolled over, pulling the blanket over her head.
15 days.
She only wanted to finish her research.
Everything else—
No longer mattered.
…
“Where are my herbal supplements?”
The birthday banquet had ended in disaster.
Martha had staged a fainting spell to avoid being branded a vicious adoptive mother.
Franklin had burned through a fortune silencing the media and appeasing guests. They’d managed to contain the fallout—but at a steep cost.
In a fit of rage, he declared that Scarlett wouldn’t be allowed back unless she begged at the front gate. Only then would she be permitted inside the next morning.
They were certain she’d crawl back.
After all—where else could she go?
So when Stanley came downstairs and saw no prepared supplements, his brow furrowed.
“What, now she’s addicted to playing the victim?”
He summoned the maid.
“Rebecca’s supplements can’t stop. Go call Scarlett in.”
Then he patted Rebecca’s shoulder gently.
“Go ahead and eat. Once Scarlett finishes the herbs, I’ll have her bring them to you.”
Rebecca looked uneasy. “But… then Scarlett will be late.”
Stanley waved it off.
“She hasn’t won a single award all year. You, on the other hand, keep excelling. Your mentor thinks highly of you—and he’s coming today to guide your paper. Go early. Make a good impression.”
That mentor visited only once a year.
Miss the chance, and the door to the future might close forever.
“Alright,” Rebecca said softly. “When Scarlett comes back… please tell her I’m sorry. I don’t want her to hate me.”
Her gentle tone melted Stanley instantly.
This was how a younger sister should be.
Obedient. Considerate.
Scarlett had been unruly for too long. It was time she was corrected.
Rebecca left through the back door, deliberately avoiding Scarlett.
She was still uneasy.
She wasn’t sure how much Scarlett had overheard.
At the very least, Scarlett probably didn’t know about the attempted murder.
Otherwise, she would’ve exploded last night.
But—
If Scarlett were still alive…
That incident might get out.
Rebecca’s eyes darkened.
No.
She had to make sure that the wretched girl stayed silent.
Forever.