Page 77 of Claimed By The Other Brother

Scarlett

The morning light filters through my apartment windows as I get ready for work. Last night with Miles still sits heavy in my mind—his desperate apologies, his broken demeanor, the way he looked at me like I could fix everything.

I push the thoughts away and focus on my routine. Shower, coffee, dress. By eight, I'm walking into Whitman Communications, ready to bury myself in work like I have been for the past two weeks.

My desk is exactly as I left it yesterday. I settle into my chair, open my laptop, and start going through emails. There's a project brief from a client, meeting notes from last week, the usual Monday morning chaos.

I'm halfway through my second coffee when my phone rings. Linda's extension.

"Scarlett, can you come to my office?"

"Of course. Be right there."

I grab my notebook and pen, wondering what this is about.Linda doesn't usually call people to her office first thing in the morning unless something urgent has come up.Her office is on the corner of our floor, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown Chicago. She's standing when I walk in, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Close the door," she says, gesturing to the chair across from her desk.

I close it and sit, notebook in my lap.

"What's going on?"

Linda sits down, leans forward, her eyes bright.

"I just got off the phone with a potential client. A huge potential client. And they've specifically requested you."

My stomach flips. "Requested me?"

"By name." Linda slides a folder across her desk.

"Blackwell Media Corp."

The name hits me like a physical blow. I freeze, my hand hovering over the folder.

Blackwell..

Dax.

"I know," Linda continues, not noticing my reaction.

"I know you and Miles didn't work out. And I'm sorry about that—I really am. But this is his family's company, right? Clearly your connection could actually be helpful here."

I force myself to open the folder. Inside are details about a PR crisis. Allegations against a former employee, embezzlement, fraud, ties to corporate oversight. It's a mess.

"They're in crisis mode," Linda explains.

"They need aggressive damage control, and they specifically asked for you. Said they'd heard great things about your work."

My mind is racing.Dax did this.He orchestrated this. He specifically requested me.

"I..." I start, but my throat is tight.

"I don't know if I can accept this."

Linda's excitement dims. "What? Why not?"

"It's complicated. With Miles, with everything that happened—"

"Scarlett." Linda's voice becomes firm.