Chapter 8

Hazel froze, and Harrison's face immediately darkened. "What the hell are you talking about, Scarlett? I'm her uncle!" Scarlett's lips curled into a mocking smile. See? Only guilty people would get this defensive. "Then, let someone else wear it." She couldn't be bothered to expose the truth and simply said, "In any case, it won't be me." Harrison frowned. "What are you trying to say?" "I've made myself clear." Scarlett lifted her head and repeated each word with certainty, "I don't want to marry you anymore. I won't be at the wedding tomorrow." "You're playing hard to get—" Harrison started to scoff but stopped when he saw the icy look in her eyes. His gaze flickered to her bandaged thigh. Yesterday, she had stabbed herself—again and again—just to avoid being intimate with him. A strange frustration settled in his chest. "Scarlett, the wedding is tomorrow. Stop throwing a tantrum." That had to be it. Scarlett was just acting out because he'd been ignoring her lately. Once she calmed down, she'd be as eager as ever to marry him. "As for the dress…" Harrison glanced at the wedding dress beside them. Scarlett thought he would do the same as last time—force her into the dress even at the cost of starving. But to her surprise, he simply said, "If you prefer the original wedding dress, then wear that one." Hazel looked at him. "Uncle Harry…" Harrison patted her head. "It's fine. You can design something else next time." Hazel's face paled slightly, but she nodded. After that, Harrison left with her. But not long after, Hazel came back alone. She stood in front of Scarlett and asked coldly, "You saw everything in the car yesterday, didn't you?" The Hazel standing before her no longer had that usual timid look. Instead, her face was filled with open hostility. Scarlett didn't answer directly. Instead, she asked, "You drugged yourself?" Hazel didn't deny it. "That's right. Uncle Harry loves me. I just gave him an opportunity to act on it." Scarlett understood instantly. In her past life, she had never been sure whether Harrison's obsession with Hazel was one-sided or mutual. Now, she knew. "Congratulations, then," she said. "I wish you both happiness." She meant it sincerely, but Hazel instantly lost her composure. "Don't give me that fake politeness, Scarlett! I'll admit that you're a lot craftier than before." She sneered. "You used to be a pathetic, lovesick fool. And now, you're playing the dignified act? You really think refusing to sleep with Uncle Harry last night is going to make him see you differently? "Keep dreaming! Today, I'll show you exactly who Uncle Harry truly cares about." As soon as Hazel said that, she lunged at Scarlett and pressed a cloth over the latter's nose and mouth. A sharp, acrid scent filled her lungs. Scarlett's eyes widened in alarm, but when she tried to resist, her injured leg gave out beneath her. The household staff had already left, not wanting to linger on such a private conversation. Scarlett struggled, but her strength failed her. Darkness quickly swallowed her whole. … Scarlett woke up to an unbearable heat. As she opened her eyes, all she saw were flames raging around her. Hazel lay beside her. Scarlett's mind snapped into focus. She turned to Hazel and shouted, "You set my house on fire? Are you out of your damn mind?" Hazel smirked. "You think Uncle Harry has feelings for you, don't you? I'll show you exactly how much he loves me!" Before Scarlett could react, Harrison's anxious voice rang out behind her, "Hazel! Where are you?" Hazel's entire demeanor shifted in an instant. Tears welled up in her eyes as she let out a pitiful cry, "Uncle Harry! I'm here! Please save me!" Harrison burst into the room at once. He froze when he saw Scarlett. But then, Hazel whimpered in pain, and his attention snapped back to her. "Hazel!" He rushed forward, scooping her up in his arms. As he passed Scarlett, he threw a quick glance her way. "I'll take Hazel out first. I'll come back for you." Then, without another word, he carried Hazel out of the burning house.