Let Me Go, Mr. Howard Chapter 17

Sebastian held a first aid kit, walked up to her, crouched down, and took out iodine and cotton swabs. "Your foot."

"Save your fake concern," Scarlett pulled her foot back, her voice icy. "I'm not dying."

"Don't move." Sebastian's voice deepened as he grabbed her ankle with enough force to make her wince. 

When the cool cotton swab touched her wound, she hissed in pain and tried to pull away, but he held her firmly in place.

"Sebastian, let go of me!" She struggled, her eyes suddenly welling up as all her pent-up frustration finally broke through. 

"What do you want from me? You let Edith destroy my Starlight Show—do you know how many sleepless nights that took? How many revisions? That was my dream, don't you understand?"

Her voice cracked, "Is everything about me so worthless to you? You can just erase all my hard work with a few casual words?"

Sebastian looked up at her tear-filled eyes, the coldness in his gaze not diminishing but rather intensifying with impatience. 

He put down the cotton swab, straightened up, and looked down at her, his tone hard. "It's just one show. Why are you still making such a fuss? If it's ruined, you can create another. You're blowing this out of proportion, deliberately causing problems."

"Blowing this out of proportion?" Scarlett felt like she'd heard the most absurd joke. "In your eyes, my dreams, my principles, everything about me is just 'making a fuss'? But what about Edith? Her engagement party, her wedding dress, her ring—those are all important enough to deserve your complete dedication?"

Seeing Sebastian's silence, the last flicker of hope in her heart completely shattered.

"Sebastian, please just let me go," she sniffled, her voice thick with emotion but remarkably clear. 

"I promise I'll never appear in front of you again, never cause you any trouble. I can leave the Seymour Villa, leave this company, go somewhere you can't find me. I'll be fine..."

"I said shut up!" Sebastian suddenly snapped, enraged by her words. He grabbed her wrist and forcefully pinned her against the sofa.

Caught off guard, Scarlett's back hit the armrest, causing her to groan in pain. She struggled to push him away, but he held her firmly, leaving her immobile. 

Sebastian's hot breath fell on her neck, filled with intense anger and an almost uncontrolled obsession.

He looked down at her reddened eyes, at the rejection and despair in them, and the inexplicable rage inside him burned even stronger. 

"Let you go?" He laughed coldly, roughly pulling at her collar. "Scarlett, you approached me first. Now you think you can just walk away?"

His kiss fell on her lips with punishing force, aggressive and unyielding. 

Scarlett fought desperately, pushing him with both hands and feet, but it was futile. 

"Sebastian! You bastard! Let me go!" Her voice was swallowed by his lips, leaving only broken whimpers.

But he seemed not to hear, his force increasing as he tore at her clothes, stripping away her last shred of dignity. 

His movements carried suppressed fury and an almost cruel possessiveness, as if trying to prove through this act that she still belonged to him.

Scarlett's strength gradually faded, her resistance growing weaker. Tears blurred her vision. All she could sense was Sebastian's familiar cedar scent and the cold determination in his actions.

That night, Sebastian possessed her again and again. The living room carpet, the bedroom sheets—everywhere bore traces of her struggle. 

Scarlett lay like a broken doll, yielding to his demands, her consciousness gradually fading between pain and humiliation.

The villa echoed only with heavy breathing and her deeply suppressed sobs, like a nightmare from which she couldn't awaken. 

Moonlight filtered through the curtain gaps, falling on the clothes scattered across the floor and on Scarlett's tear-stained face.

She stared at the ceiling with hollow eyes, the physical pain nothing compared to the ache in her heart. 

Sebastian had never intended to let her go. His show of "caring" was merely obsession built on absolute possession. He could destroy her work, ignore her suffering, but he would never tolerate her leaving.

When would this silent imprisonment end? 

Scarlett closed her eyes, allowing darkness to consume her. Perhaps from the moment she met Sebastian, she was destined to fall into this bottomless abyss.

When Scarlett woke early the next morning, Sebastian was gone. The vast villa was empty except for her. She painfully gathered her clothes and limped out.

Outside, Mark had been waiting. Seeing her, he nodded, "Ms. Seymour, Mr. Howard asked me to take you home."

She remained silent, quietly taking the back seat. The car stopped some distance from the company. 

This had been their unwritten rule for five years—neither Sebastian nor his assistant could show any connection to her in public.

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Soon came the day of Edith's wedding photo shoot. Scarlett's foot had nearly healed when she was forcibly summoned. The studio lights were blindingly bright.

Scarlett stood in the corner, holding a heavy reflector, her arms aching as if they might break. 

Edith wore a custom pale pink gown with layered skirts like a blooming flower. She clung to Sebastian's arm, standing before the backdrop, smiling radiantly for the camera.

Sebastian wore a matching suit, his posture impeccable, though his face remained expressionless, like an exquisite sculpture.

"Seb," Edith suddenly turned to Sebastian, her voice sickeningly sweet, "I actually brought Scarlett so she could be part of our happy moment. We're sisters, after all."

She turned to Scarlett, wearing a kind smile, "Scarlett, I think my lipstick is fading. Could you bring me the lip gloss from my makeup bag? It's on the vanity over there."

Scarlett's arms trembled, nearly dropping the reflector. She glanced at the distant makeup table piled with cosmetics, clearly meant to make her take an unnecessary trip.

"Didn't you hear Ms. Edith Seymour?" a nearby assistant prompted, impatience in their tone.

Scarlett took a deep breath, set down the reflector, massaged her sore arms, and walked toward the vanity. The thick carpet felt like walking on cotton, each step draining her energy.

When she returned with the lip gloss, Edith was laughing in Sebastian's arms. Seeing her approach, Edith extended her hand. "Thank you, Scarlett."

As Scarlett held out the lip gloss, her fingertips almost touching Edith's hand, Edith suddenly let go.