Let Me Go, Mr. Howard Chapter 28

"Shut up!" Scarlett shot to her feet, blood rushing to her head, her vision darkening.

She rushed to turn off the printer, but her fingers trembled so badly she missed the power button several times. Instead, she knocked over the nearby waste basket, scattering paper across the floor, mixing with those glaring photos.

"Scarlett." Patty timidly approached, holding her phone displaying the company group chat. The photos had already been shared everywhere, accompanied by vile comments.

Most prominent was Edith's message from ten minutes ago, dripping with fake concern: [Don't misunderstand, everyone. Scarlett is a victim too. Her mother's situation wasn't her fault.]

That sentence was like pouring water on hot oil, instantly igniting even more vicious gossip. Scarlett stared at the message, her nails digging deep into her palms.

This was Edith's way—killing without drawing blood. First, she'd stab you in the heart, then hypocritically offer a band-aid, making everyone praise her kindness.

"Ms. Scarlett Seymour, are you okay?" Tom tried to help her turn off the printer, but she pushed him away.

"Let me." Scarlett's voice was hoarse, carrying an almost breaking calmness.

She took a deep breath and finally hit the power button. The printer stopped abruptly, the last photo hanging from the output tray like a butterfly with broken wings.

She pulled down that final photo—her mother at her youngest, with two braids and a white shirt, her eyes as clear as mountain spring water. This was before her mother worked at the club, yet someone had found it and added that disgusting note.

Scarlett crumpled the photo in her fist. The paper's edge cut her skin, drawing blood she didn't even notice.

"Mr. Howard is here!" someone whispered, and the gossip instantly died.

Scarlett looked up to see Sebastian in a dark suit, surrounded by executives as he entered the design department. His gaze swept over the photos on the floor, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly before landing on Scarlett.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, her hair disheveled, a crumpled paper in her fist with blood seeping between her fingers. Scarlett turned away, embarrassed.

"Seb!" Edith ran over like a startled deer, linking her arm with his. Her voice carried perfectly calibrated distress. "Someone played a cruel prank, printing out all these photos of Scarlett's mother. What a mess..."

She deliberately emphasized "mother," her eyes darting between Scarlett and Sebastian with smug anticipation.

Sebastian's gaze moved from the photos on the floor to Edith's face, then back to Scarlett. He remained silent for several seconds.

"Clean it up," he finally said, his tone as flat as if commenting on the weather, revealing no emotion.

No questions, no comfort, not even a second glance at Scarlett—as if this were just an insignificant accident that merely needed cleaning.

Edith looked startled, clearly not expecting this reaction, but quickly smiled and replied, "Of course, Seb. I'll have someone take care of it right away."

The executives exchanged glances, no one daring to ask questions as they escorted Sebastian toward the director's office.

As he passed Scarlett, Sebastian's steps faltered briefly, his gaze lingering on her clenched hand for a moment before he moved on, as if he'd seen nothing.

Scarlett watched his retreating figure, her heart pierced by an icy spike, the pain almost suffocating. 

In his eyes, were her dignity and her mother's reputation just garbage that needed "cleaning up"?

---

At noon, while getting water in the break room, Scarlett had just unscrewed her bottle cap when two male colleagues blocked the doorway.

Miles and Cole from Marketing, known for their crude jokes, now looked at her with disgustingly leering eyes.

"Hey, Scarlett, all alone?" Miles whistled, rubbing his hands together with a malicious smile. "Those photos earlier were something. Your mom was popular at the club, wasn't she?"

Cole joined in, "Like mother, like daughter. Are you also...?"

Before he could finish, his hand reached out to touch Scarlett's face. A sharp slap echoed through the break room, stunning both men.

Scarlett shook her hand, her palm stinging, but her eyes were ice-cold. "Try touching me again. I dare you."

Miles was stunned by the slap. When he recovered, he was furious with embarrassment. "You little bitch, you dare hit me?" He raised his hand to strike back.

Scarlett didn't flinch, just stared at him coldly. The resolve in her eyes made Miles's hand freeze mid-air.

"What's going on here?"

Sebastian's voice suddenly came from the doorway. He stood there, Peter behind him, his expression terrifyingly dark.

Miles immediately put on a fawning smile. "Mr. Howard, just a misunderstanding. We were only joking with Ms. Seymour."

"Joking?" Scarlett looked at Sebastian, her voice quiet but each word distinct. "Joking about my mother's photos, joking about my dignity—is this your company's culture?"

Sebastian ignored Miles, his gaze falling on Scarlett's face, flushed with anger. His frown deepened. Without speaking, he just nodded to the security guards behind him.

"Get them out of here."

The guards immediately stepped forward, grabbed the struggling Miles and Cole, and dragged them away.

"Mr. Howard! We were wrong! Please don't fire us!"

"Scarlett, you little bitch, you'll pay for this!"

Their curses gradually faded, leaving only Scarlett and Sebastian in the break room.

He looked at her, his expression complex, as if wanting to say something. Finally, he just took her cup from the table, filled it with warm water, and offered it to her.

"Thanks, but no." Scarlett didn't take it, turning to leave.

"Scarlett." Sebastian stopped her, his voice deep. "If anything happens..."

"Don't bother." Scarlett cut him off, her back to him, her voice ice-cold. "Mr. Howard, you're far too busy. My problems aren't worth your concern. Just 'clean it up,' right?"

With that, she opened the door and left without looking back. 

Sebastian watched her go, still holding the cup of warm water as it gradually cooled in his hand.

---

Scarlett left the company and went to Chris's training ground. The wind at the racetrack carried the burnt smell of tires against asphalt, hitting Scarlett's face harshly.

She sat in the stands, watching as Chris's red race car shot across the finish line like lightning. The roaring engine hurt her eardrums but couldn't drown out the dead emptiness in her heart.

"Want a drink?" Chris had walked over, offering her an ice-cold beer. The condensation wet the back of her hand, bringing a small, chilling sting.

Scarlett took it but didn't open it, just watching the water droplets slide down the bottle.

"I've already contacted the design academy in Castrovella City," Chris sat beside her, his voice carefully tentative. "You can start next month. I've covered the tuition. Come with me."