Chapter 2
Scarlett
One week. I needed to make Nate fall completely in love with me in one week.
Monday morning, 5:30 AM, I stood outside the 24-hour gym.
I'd spent a full hour on my makeup, but it had to look like I'd just rolled out of bed for a morning workout. Athletic wear, ponytail, subtle dewy glow—the perfect early-bird fitness girl image.
At exactly 6:00 AM, Nate's black SUV appeared in the parking lot.
I took a deep breath and swiped into the gym.
On the treadmill, I pretended to focus on my slow jog while keeping one eye on the entrance. Three minutes later, that familiar figure appeared.
"Scarlett?"
I feigned surprise, pulling out my earbuds and turning around: "Oh, Nate! What a coincidence running into you here."
Nate wore a gray athletic shirt, his hair still slightly damp—clearly he'd showered before coming. He looked somewhat surprised but pleased.
"You work out here too?" He approached the treadmill. "I've never seen you before."
"I've been doing morning workouts here for three years." I wiped away nonexistent sweat. "You must be new?"
"Just transferred to this district." He nodded. "Hey... want to run together? I was planning to go for a jog outside."
Perfect, just as I predicted.
"Sure, I could use a change of scenery."
We walked out of the gym together. Chicago's morning air was crisp, but I felt my blood boiling.
"How long have you been running?" he asked.
"About... four years now." I said. "Started for stress relief, became a habit. Being a journalist is pretty stressful."
"I get it." His tone was gentle. "Being a cop is too. Sometimes running is the only way to clear my head."
We jogged along the lakefront trail for twenty minutes. During that time, he opened up about work, complained about too many cases, worried about Oliver adjusting to the new environment. I played the perfect listener, offering thoughtful responses at all the right moments.
He's opening up to me. Perfect.
Wednesday noon, boutique coffee shop in Gold Coast.
I sat by the window with newspapers and notebooks spread out, pretending to work intently. I wore a black business suit with professional makeup—today I was Scarlett the serious journalist.
At 12:45 PM, Nate appeared right on schedule.
He was in civilian clothes, obviously on his lunch break. When he spotted me, his face lit up with genuine surprise.
"We meet again." He approached my table with his coffee. "Mind if I sit?"
"Of course." I closed my notebook, smiling at him. "You're a journalist, right? I forgot to properly introduce myself last time."
"Crime reporter for the Chicago Tribune." I said. "I already know you're a cop, but what do you do besides catching bad guys?"
He laughed—one of those genuine, from-the-heart laughs: "Take care of my little brother. Honestly, he's my whole world."
When he mentioned Oliver, the tenderness in his eyes was so real. My chest suddenly tightened.
Don't get emotional, Scarlett. Remember how he destroyed your family.
"That must be really tough." I said. "Being a single dad... oh wait, single brother?"
"Our parents died." His expression darkened. "Car accident five years ago. Oliver's been my responsibility ever since."
My parents didn't die in a car accident—you shot them dead!
"I'm sorry." I struggled to control my emotions. "I shouldn't have asked such personal questions."
"It's okay." He shook his head. "You cover crime stories—you must see a lot of tragedy. Sometimes I think meeting someone as warm as you is life's way of compensating me."
Warm? If you knew who I really was, would you still think I'm warm?
We talked for forty minutes. I perfectly displayed my passion for justice and concern for the vulnerable. Every topic was carefully designed to make him think we were kindred spirits.
When we parted, he said: "I really wish I could get to know you better."
"Me too."
I already know you well enough. Now it's your turn to get to know me—the fake me.
Saturday afternoon, Whole Foods.
I pushed my cart around the organic produce section, wearing casual jeans and a sweater, looking like any ordinary urban woman.
At 3:20 PM, I heard that familiar voice.
"Nate, I want that one!"
I turned to see Oliver pointing at chocolate cookies on the shelf while Nate tried to steer him toward healthier options.
"Hey, it's the pretty lady!" Oliver suddenly spotted me and waved excitedly.
Nate looked up and his face immediately brightened: "Scarlett! Another coincidence."
"Hi, Oliver!" I crouched down to greet him. "Are you helping your brother grocery shop? What a good boy."
"He wants junk food." Nate looked somewhat helpless. "But I'm trying to get him into healthy eating habits."
"That's not easy." I nodded understandingly, then said to Oliver, "You know what? If you choose an apple today, you can have one small cookie next time. That would make your brother much happier."
Oliver thought about it and actually went to grab an apple.
Nate looked at me with gratitude: "You're amazing. I've been trying for half an hour with no luck."
"I have a... brother." I said. "So I have some experience."
Tommy, I'm sorry for thinking about you again.
We shopped together for an hour. I displayed the perfect domestic image—could cook, loved healthy living, was patient with kids. Oliver was quickly drawn to me, holding my hand and asking all sorts of questions.
At checkout, Nate suddenly turned to me: "Scarlett, if you're willing... I'd like to formally take you to dinner."
I looked at his earnest expression, my heart suddenly racing.
Mission accomplished.
"I'd love to, Detective."
"Tomorrow night at seven? I know this amazing Italian place."
"Sounds perfect."
Oliver clapped beside us: "Yay! The pretty lady is going to eat with us!"
"Just me and Scarlett, little guy." Nate ruffled his hair. "You'll have to wait for me at home."
I smiled at this scene while calculating the timing in my head.
Twenty-four hours from now, this will all be over.
11 PM, my apartment.
I closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a long breath. A day of pretending had left me exhausted.
I walked to my bedroom and opened the closet, retrieving a small box from the very back. Inside were my parents' belongings, neatly arranged—their wedding photo, Mom's necklace, Dad's watch, and...
The police death report.
With trembling hands, I opened the yellowed document. It read:
[Executing Officer: Detective N. Blackwood]
[Cause of Death: Fatal shooting during arrest resistance]
[Notes: Suspects armed and resisting, posed threat to officer safety]
Every word cut through my heart like a knife.
They weren't armed. They were just trying to protect themselves.
I put the report back in the box and walked to my dresser. What should I wear for tomorrow's date? The red dress? Or the black one?
Red. Blood red.
I selected my outfit, then walked to the nightstand. In the bottom drawer was a small safe.
I entered the code—Tommy's birthday.
The safe opened, revealing a small vial lying quietly inside.
Clear liquid, colorless and odorless. My friend who worked at the lab said this poison was lethal within thirty minutes and undetectable.
The perfect instrument of revenge.
I picked up the vial and examined it carefully under the light. The liquid was crystal clear, just like ordinary water.
Tomorrow night, I would pour it into Nate's wine glass. Then watch him die in agony, just like my parents did.
