Chapter 3 Shattering Perceptions
Scarlett's POV
"Quiet." Gabriel's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "All of you."
I pressed down with calculated force, finding the exact spot where life energy could be redirected. The room fell into an almost sacred silence, as if everyone was holding their breath.
For a moment, nothing happened. The heart monitor continued its flat, accusatory beep. Alice remained motionless on the ornate bed, looking more like a sleeping angel than the formidable matriarch I'd heard so much about.
Then I felt it—the subtle shift beneath my fingers. A flutter. A whisper of returning life.
The first heartbeat appeared on the monitor as a tiny blip, so faint I almost thought I'd imagined it. But then came another. And another.
The room erupted.
"What the hell—" Derek stumbled backward, his face draining of color.
The head physician rushed forward, staring at the monitors in complete bewilderment. "This is... this is medically impossible. She was clinically dead for over three minutes."
Alice's eyelids fluttered. Her chest began to rise and fall with shallow but steady breaths. The heart monitor's beeping grew stronger, more regular, painting beautiful green waves across the dark screen.
I stepped back, my legs suddenly feeling like jelly. The adrenaline that had carried me through the procedure was fading, leaving behind exhaustion and the lingering effects of the Dream Herb.
"How?" Catherine's voice was barely a whisper. She looked at me like I'd just walked on water. "Where did you learn to do that?"
The physician was checking Alice's pulse, his professional facade cracking with amazement. "Miss... Mrs. Rothschild," he corrected himself, glancing at Gabriel. "I must ask—where did you study medicine? This technique... I've never seen anything like it."
I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, trying to appear more composed than I felt. "Just something I picked up from an integrative medicine textbook."
It was a deliberate understatement. What I'd just performed was a technique Master Thunder had taught me after years of training at Terminus Fortress—a fusion of ancient healing arts and modern anatomical knowledge.
Gabriel stepped closer, and I noticed something in his eyes I hadn't seen before. Not the cold command or barely contained fury from earlier. Something softer. More... curious.
"I need to talk to you," I said, looking him straight in the eye.
"Of course." His voice was gentler than I'd heard it all day. "But perhaps you should rest first. You look..." He paused, studying my face. "You've been through a lot today."
I nodded in agreement. I did indeed need to rest for a while to let the effects of my medication wear off.
Gabriel's POV
The storm outside matched the tempest in my mind as I sat in my private study, staring at the investigation report Adam had just delivered.
Victoria's outstanding medical performance just now was clearly not like that of an idle socialite. And the document on the table confirmed my suspicion.
Scarlett Ross. Twenty-two years old. Born and raised in Maple Creek, upstate New York.
My newlywed wife was not the privileged heiress I had imagined I would marry. She was a small-town girl running a little pharmacy.
"Sir," Adam cleared his throat nervously. "I have to ask—are you concerned about potential... complications? Someone from her background might see this marriage as an opportunity for financial gain."
I didn't look up from the photograph attached to the report. It showed Scarlett outside her pharmacy, wearing simple jeans and a cardigan, hair pulled back in a practical ponytail. Nothing like the polished debutantes who usually moved in my circles.
"She saved my grandmother's life," I said quietly.
"Yes, sir, but—"
"She brought my grandmother back from the dead." I finally met Adam's eyes. "Do you understand what that means?"
Adam shifted uncomfortably. "It means she has some medical knowledge, but that doesn't necessarily indicate—"
"It means," I interrupted, "that Scarlett Ross is far more than what this report suggests." I closed the folder, my mind replaying the moment I'd watched her hands move with surgical precision over Alice's still form. "Someone who can perform miracles doesn't fit into neat categories, Adam."
The assistant looked confused, but I dismissed him with a wave. I needed time to think.
Alone in my study, I found myself staring at the marriage certificate lying on my desk. The irony wasn't lost on me—I'd spent months avoiding Victoria Langley's attempts to manipulate our arrangement, only to accidentally marry someone who seemed to want nothing from me at all.
Scarlett Ross was an enigma wrapped in mystery, delivering miracles while denying she was anything special.
Scarlett's POV
Hours later, I found myself in what could only be described as a palace dining room. Thunder rolled outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, and rain lashed against the glass in sheets. The storm matched my mood perfectly.
Gabriel sat at the head of a table that could easily seat twenty, a stack of papers beside his plate.
I shot him my best death glare and took a seat as far from him as the table's configuration would allow. The message was clear: I'm here, but I'm not happy about it.
I ate in pointed silence, using the time to study my unwanted husband. In the soft candlelight, the harsh lines around his eyes had softened, and he seemed content to simply observe me eat without comment.
"This is a mistake," I said finally, setting down my fork.
"Yes," he agreed immediately. "It is."
That threw me. I'd expected arguments, justifications, maybe even threats. Not instant agreement.
"Despite my... humble background," I continued, my voice steady and direct, "you've wronged me today. You kidnapped me, drugged me into compliance, and forced me into a marriage under false pretenses. That requires some form of accountability."
Gabriel nodded slowly. "You're absolutely right. I apologize."
Another unexpected response. I studied his face for signs of manipulation but found only what appeared to be genuine remorse.
"We can handle this through legal channels," I offered. "Or we can come to a private arrangement that satisfies both parties. The choice is yours."
"I have to admit," he smiled, "your directness is refreshing. Most people spend twenty minutes dancing around what they really want before getting to the point."
"I'm not most people."
"No," he agreed, his gaze sharpening with interest. "You're definitely not."
Outside, lightning split the sky, illuminating both our faces in stark relief. I could see the curiosity in his eyes, the way he was trying to figure me out like I was some complex financial puzzle.
But he had no clue he'd just gained a wife who could disappear into shadows, who had numbers on speed dial that could topple governments, who'd been trained by one of the world's most dangerous men to be an unstoppable force.
Gabriel's eyes glittered with something between intrigue and challenge. "Name your price, Mrs. Rothschild."
The way he said my new name—with possession and question marks in equal measure—sent an unexpected shiver down my spine.
This was going to be more complicated than I'd thought.