"Zoe, listen to me," Scarlett finally says, her voice gentle but firm. "I'm not sure about any of this. Byron has always manipulated you. You know that, right?"
I stand up from the window seat, pacing across my bedroom. "It's not like that."
"Isn't it?" Her voice rises slightly. "He's been controlling every aspect of your life since you were thirteen. Your schools, your friends?—"
"He took me in when I had no one," I cut her off.
"And he's never let you forget it." Scarlett sighs heavily. "You don't even see what he's doing anymore. He's trained you to think exactly how he wants you to think."
My fingers tighten around the phone. These aren't new accusations, but something about hearing them today—after seeing Feretti in the flesh—makes them sting differently.
"You don't understand what's at stake," I say, keeping my voice low even though I know Byron's downstairs.
"Then help me understand," she pleads. "Because from where I'm standing, he's asking you to marry your father's killer. If that's not the most twisted thing I've ever heard?—"
"We need to do this." The words escape through clenched teeth. "It's my choice too."
"Is it really?"
I press my palm against the cool wall, steadying myself. "This is my chance, Scar. Byron's plan gives me a way inside." I carefully measure my words, aware of how much I can safely say. "After twelve years of nightmares about my father, I finally get to do something."
"Revenge?" Scarlett whispers the word like it's toxic. "That's what this is about?"
"Justice," I correct her. "A chance to balance the scales."
"By sleeping with the enemy? Zoe, this isn't some spy movie. This is your life."
I close my eyes, seeing my father's face—the one from photographs, since my own memories have faded. "I know exactly what I'm doing," I lie, because the alternative—admitting how terrified I am—isn't an option.
"I don't think you do," Scarlett says quietly. "Byron's using your pain, your grief over your father, to make you do what he wants."
The silence between us stretches thin. I can practically hear Scarlett's mind working through everything I've told her.
"Zoe, I need you to promise me something," she finally says, her voice taking on that no-nonsense tone she uses with difficult patients. "Whatever happens next, whatever Byron has planned, you call me. Every step of the way, every new development—I want to know everything."
I sink onto my bed, my fingers tracing the intricate embroidery of the duvet. "It might be dangerous for you to know too much."
"I don't care," Scarlett says firmly. "Let me be clear—I think this entire plan is insane and I'm worried sick about you. But if you're determined to go through with it, I refuse to be kept in the dark."
"I'll call you," I promise. "But Scar, you have to stay completely away from anything to do with the Ferettis. I mean it. No research, no asking questions, nothing that would put you on their radar."
"What are you afraid of?"
I think of the photographs Byron showed me—the bloodied bodies of that family in Brooklyn. The cold efficiency of their execution. "These people don't leave witnesses, Scarlett. If they even suspected you knew anything..."
"I get it," she says softly. "I'll be careful. But that doesn't mean I'm letting you do this alone."
"You're the only real friend I have," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't afford to lose you too."
"Then don't shut me out," she replies. "That's all I'm asking."
Outside my window, I notice Carson crossing the grounds toward the security office. Byron will be coming upstairs soon to debrief me on the meeting, to tell me Feretti's reaction to his proposal. I need to end this call.
"I have to go," I say, straightening my posture as though Scarlett can see me through the phone. "Byron will want to talk soon."
"Zoe..." Scarlett hesitates. "Just remember who you are, okay? Not who Byron trained you to be."
The comment stings with uncomfortable truth. "I'll call you tomorrow," I say instead of addressing it.
