My skull throbbed with pain, and Liz's incessant questioning about Scarlett only intensified it. I bit my tongue to keep from revealing that we hadn't spoken in nearly a month. And as if that weren't enough, I also kept quiet about the fact that Scarlett no longer frequented my coffee shop anymore. I had assumed she wanted nothing to do with me, but her absence felt like a deliberate snub. Maybe we were never really friends after all. Or maybe I was just deluded into thinking so.

Kristopher appeared equally disappointed by the situation, though I couldn't determine if his frustration was directed towards her or me for not heeding his advice.

It was an impossible task to follow his instructions. If I had shared all the information with her, she would have surely had a mental breakdown. Being on the boat with her in that state would have been chaotic, and no amount of medication could have calmed her down.

A thought lingered in the back of my mind: maybe she wouldn't have reacted in such a way. But I chose to keep that thought tucked away, hidden from view.

Liz's voice cut through the silence with a question. "So, when are you seeing her again?"

Why did she have to pry into my personal life? I understood that she liked her, but why did she need to know when I was seeing her? She never showed this level of interest in my past relationships. And don't even get me started on the last one. Whenever she laid eyes on Tiffany, I could sense the tension building and knew I couldn't leave them alone together. I was afraid she would do something to hurt her.

I hesitated before answering, not wanting to dwell on the subject. This was the first time in ten months that I could relax and breathe without feeling constantly watched. While on the boat, I had successfully closed some of Thomas's most important deals and managed to evade the police. With Eric's assistance, I felt like I could finally go back to doing things the way I used to, perhaps even improving upon them.

After returning from the cruise, I immediately wrote checks for everyone on the team. Eric and Kristopher had been especially helpful lately, so I made sure they received a little extra. In this business, we all shared our earnings equally, according to Thomas's teachings. We were a family, and our money belonged to each other just as much as it belonged to ourselves.

It had been two months since Liz and I moved into Thomas's house, and she immediately seemed at ease. It was understandable; no more living in the cold for her; she now had her own room and bathroom, and she even attended a private high school where she could be herself. I wasn't sure what kind of connections Thomas had, but he must have some serious influence to keep the police from taking Liz away.

This place wasn't exactly my cup of tea. It wasn't because it was unfriendly; rather, it was just too different from what I was used to. In my previous home, the walls were dull, and the air had a musty scent. But in this new house, every wall was painted a bright white, and it smelled overwhelmingly good. Sometimes, the strong scent made me feel lightheaded because I wasn't accustomed to such pleasant smells.

In between our work, I also assisted the two maids. They reminded me of the elderly woman who took care of me after my mother passed away. I missed her dearly, but above all, I longed for my mother's presence. When I arrived at this lavish place, it made me think of her immediately. She would have been enchanted by it all. In fact, she would have loved anywhere that wasn't our old apartment.

I rest my head on the desk, struggling to solve my math problems. I was never good at schoolwork. Thomas had convinced me to attend high school as well, but I felt like a complete failure. I lacked knowledge and confidence in every subject. I didn't want to disappoint Thomas because I knew how important this opportunity was for Liz's future. I didn't want her to continue living in poverty. She deserved better than that.

A knock on the door startled me, and my heart raced when I saw Thomas standing in the doorway. He rarely wandered around the house, so it was always a surprise to see him. I wasn't sure if it was because of the size of the house or because he was busy, but we hardly ever ran into each other. Usually, his assistant, a muscular blonde man, gave me instructions rather than Thomas himself.

He glanced at me and then at the books scattered on the table before asking, "Am I interrupting you?"

I shook my head and stood up from my desk, motioning for him to come in. He looked much more relaxed now compared to when he first approached me on the street. He was wearing black trousers and a purple, tight turtleneck shirt. The lack of his jacket revealed the holster where he kept his two pistols. Personally, I thought it was foolish to carry guns; knives were much more discreet and allowed for surprise attacks.

He looked directly at me with his piercing blue eyes and delivered the news bluntly. 

"Your grades are not up to par," he said, causing me to internally cringe. My headmistress had clearly contacted him about my academic performance. His expression remained cold and unreadable, leaving me with a sinking feeling that I was about to be expelled from the school.

As he sat on the edge of the bed, he asked me with a concerned expression, "Is something bothering you? Why can't you focus?"

I hesitated, searching for the right words. With this man, I couldn't lie. He always seemed to be a step ahead of everyone else. Taking a deep breath, I finally spoke, "I never went to school. I can barely read and write. An old lady in my old neighborhood taught me a little."

"Can you show me how you write?" he asked as he looked at me earnestly.

I nodded in agreement before sitting at my desk and carefully transcribing his words. It was a slow process, and I made several mistakes along the way. He patiently broke down each word into syllables, had me conjugate some verbs, and even gave me some basic math problems to work on. Unfortunately, I got all of them wrong. I could sense his frustration as he let out a sigh, and I quickly looked away from my notebook. His expression was hard to read, and I couldn't be sure if he was angry or not. It's possible that I misinterpreted his emotions, but I couldn't take any chances.

"I understand." He paused for a moment before finally responding. I could feel my heart racing, and my anxiety almost caused me to faint.

"But it's okay; we can easily fix this situation. I'll have you withdraw from that high school and set up for homeschooling. That way, we won't have any problems," he explained.

He must really need my assistance if he's willing to offer this solution instead of kicking me out onto the streets.

He patted me on the back and said, "Next time, please tell me if you have a problem. We can find a solution together." Then he motioned for me to follow him, saying, "Come with me, I want to introduce you to someone."

I tidied up the books on my desk and followed him into the living room. As I descended the grand marble staircase, I noticed a teenager who appeared to be my age or slightly younger, sitting on the cream leather sofa with a blank expression. Beside him were two other men, including Thomas's assistant. When we approached him, he glanced at us without moving a muscle in his emotionless face. He looked almost as thin as me, with oversized clothes hanging off of him. It was clear that he had no will to live; in fact, he seemed dead inside already.

Thomas gestured to the teenager in front of me and announced, "Cain, I'd like you to meet your new colleague, Kristopher."

"CAIN!"  Liz screams and slams both hands on my desk. "What the hell are you thinking about?" she asked, waking me from my contemplation.

I sighed and stood up from my desk, making my way to the bar on the other side of the room. 

"I've already told you; I don't know when I'm seeing Scarlett," I said with frustration. "Can we please drop it and talk about something else?" I raised my voice in an attempt to make her understand.

I heard Liz's footsteps trailing behind me.

"What's going on? Did something happen between you and Scarlett? You guys were so adorable together... Or was that just for show? Actually, now that I think about it, I haven't seen the two of you together at all. She grumbled as I reached for a glass, trying so hard to contain my anger.

"Elisabeth, don't you have anything else to do? You've been here for over an hour, and all you can talk about is Scarlett. If you're longing for her company, why not give her a call and arrange a meet-up?" I exclaimed before taking another swig of my whiskey.

What was her problem? Why couldn't she just let me move on and forget about that woman? Why did she have to keep bringing it up and preventing me from fully detaching myself from the situation?

Liz protested, insisting on knowing more. I couldn't resist the urge to tell her everything.

I faced her and raised my voice, "Scarlett is no longer involved." I clarified, "We've never been romantically involved."

Liz's eyes widened in disbelief as she listened to my words.

Why am I making such idiotic decisions? I have no chance of escaping her now.

"Wait, you're saying you weren't even dating? But she was at your place, and you spent the night together," she exclaimed.

"We made an agreement, and I ended up sleeping with her while we were both under the influence. Let's not blow it out of proportion," I said.

I caught her about to say something else, but I immediately interrupted her.

"Let's not bring this up again. We just had sex, and that's all there is to it. You know I don't have any particular desire for ex-journalists," I said as I turned around to pour myself another drink. But then I caught my mistake in what I had just said.

Shit, shit, shit.

"What did you say?," she asks, stepping closer to me. She's usually calm, but when she gets angry, you better run in the opposite direction. I could feel her anger radiating off of her, and it was intense.

"Liz, it's no use. The woman has left the profession," I said, forcefully placing the decanter on the bar.

"Have you lost your damn mind, Cain? If you were looking for someone to hook up with, why didn't you just say so? Is this really what it's come down to? Have you forgotten how people have been writing about you on all those websites?" she went on.

Her words made me burst into laughter.

"Who's the real crazy one between us? The way they portray me on every website is exactly who I am. They claimed I was a killer. Check. They accused me of not paying my taxes. Check. They even said I was guilty of bribery. That one's also true. Every single accusation in those articles applies to me  perfectly," I added.

It was clear that she had run out of counterarguments, so she resorted to her usual tactic of twisting the conversation in her favor.

"I'll go talk to her and get an explanation," she suggested.

"No, absolutely not," I countered firmly. "You're not going anywhere near her. Don't call her or follow her. Leave her alone."

I was aware of the consequences if she pursued her, and I had no intention of resorting to selling Scarlett's body parts on the illicit market. But how could I even contemplate such a horrific idea? Perhaps I could manipulate her into complying with my desires by threatening her life.

What the hell, Cain? Why are you stupid?

"But she has the ability to contact the authorities at any moment," Liz argued. "What if she reveals what she witnessed on the boat? What if she took something from your home that could be used as incriminating evidence?"

I rolled my eyes in frustration as my phone began to ring. "You're overthinking it," I reassured her. "She's not going to do anything."

I reached into my pocket and retrieved my phone, the caller's name startling me. Liz appeared at my side, curiosity getting the best of her as she glanced down at the screen. We both saw Blaze's name displayed in bold letters. I had no idea I still had his number saved in my contacts.

I declined his call, but he immediately called again. I rejected it a second time, but he persisted and called once more.

"What the hell do you want?" I picked up the phone with a sigh and yelled at him.

"Scarlett. The Sinners. The VIP area—the one where we used to hang  out," he said.

"I'm not in the mood for your antics," I declared.

"She's lonely and drunk," he continued.

I had more to say, but he had already ended the call.

I didn't dwell on it too much before I slid my phone back into my pocket and headed to the basement parking garage. Liz, who was walking behind me, suggested we take Ashely's Lexus instead of my own car. She handed us the keys without questioning why, but she would surely find out later.