Let Me Go, Mr. Howard Chapter 289

Hearing that, Scarlett's first instinct was that Natasha had her confused with someone else. Old people mixed up faces all the time.

But then Natasha's next words came.

And they sent ice crawling up Scarlett's spine.

"That's right... You're still so young. Your whole life ahead of you. Why would you want to throw it all away?"

The sigh in Natasha's voice made it clear—whoever this Ms. Seymour was in her mind, she was long dead. Possibly by her own hand.

Scarlett had been mid-bite on a cookie. Her heart plummeted. Slowly, inch by inch, she turned to look.

Her pulse seemed to slow in that instant. "Natasha... what are you talking about?"

Natasha held a cup of steaming black tea, taking a delicate sip. Her eyes cleared somewhat. "Nothing at all, Ms. Seymour. How are the cookies?"

The cookie in Scarlett's hand was buttery, crisp, and undeniably delicious.

But she'd lost all appetite. The crumbs in her mouth turned to dust on her tongue.

She finished what was left in silence, her voice slightly hoarse—whether from the dry cookie or from something bitter rising in her throat, she couldn't say.

"They're wonderful. Thank you, Natasha."

For the next ten minutes or so, Scarlett just sat there.

No matter how comfortable the sofa was, she couldn't keep sitting idle like this.

She stood and began wandering aimlessly around the small sitting room.

But it wasn't a large space—most of it taken up by heavy, vintage furniture that spoke of decades past. The room felt cramped, limited.

"Looking for something?" Natasha sat on the sofa, knitting a shawl. The pattern and style were identical to the one Scarlett wore.

Scarlett glanced over. Natasha didn't look up, her focus entirely on the needlework in her hands.

"Nothing specific. Just browsing."

At that, Natasha lifted her eyes. Her cloudy blue gaze, half-hidden behind reading glasses, fixed on Scarlett. "Ms. Seymour... haven't we met before?"

This was the second time Natasha had asked.

If the first time had sent chills through Scarlett, the second iteration stripped away the fear, leaving only confusion in its wake.

"No, Natasha. We haven't met."

This time, when Scarlett answered, her tone was almost calm.

She pulled her hand away from a nearby bookshelf, hesitated briefly, then crossed to Natasha. She crouched in front of the older woman. "Natasha... who am I?"

The question came out steady. Scarlett cupped her chin in her hands, deliberately angling her face into full view.

Natasha removed her reading glasses and squinted, studying Scarlett from different angles. "Um... you're that Ms. Morgan they locked up, aren't you? What are you doing here?"

Ms. Morgan?

Scarlett's brow furrowed instantly. She didn't know many Morgans. Adeline was one.

Her eyes darkened. She immediately thought back to that phone call from before.

Sebastian had taken a call and left abruptly—and Adeline's name had come up in that conversation.

Though Scarlett now knew Adeline had always been nothing but a pawn to Sebastian, learning she'd apparently been held at this very vineyard made her frown reflexively.

If Adeline really was just a pawn, why bring her here?

From her conversation with Rosalia, Scarlett understood what this vineyard meant to the Russo family. Aside from the old seaside estate, this was their headquarters.

Nearly everyone in the family who returned to Virella Island came here to pay their respects.

Like the Howard Manor was for the Howards.

Using a place like this to imprison a mere pawn? Wasn't that overkill?

Scarlett couldn't make sense of it. She didn't even have time to try before Natasha grabbed her arm and yanked her upright. Ancient as she was, Natasha's grip was shockingly strong.

Those withered hands clamped down like steel vises. Pain shot through Scarlett's arm, sharp enough to make her cry out.

"Natasha—"

Before she could finish, Natasha was already dragging her bodily out of the sitting room.

"Where are we going? Natasha! I'm not Adeline Morgan!"

Natasha wasn't heading anywhere Scarlett recognized. She hauled her toward a small door on the left. Beyond it lay a narrow corridor—only wide enough for one person at a time, windowless, lit only by a single dim bulb overhead.

Scarlett looked down the passage. Total darkness gaped back at her. That icy dread surged up again. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Panic wiped out everything else. She lunged for the doorframe, fingers hooking desperately around the edge.

"You shouldn't be here!"

Natasha was hell-bent on dragging Scarlett through. Her voice dropped low, rough and powerless with age, taking on the quality of something summoned from the underworld itself.

As she spoke, she turned to look at Scarlett. Those cloudy blue eyes had gone terrifyingly dark—like the ocean at midnight, black as ink.

Scarlett had never seen anything like it. Terror seized her heart, flinging her back to childhood—to the moments before Brianna would lock her in those pitch-black rooms.

"Help!"

She screamed for help without hesitation. Respect for the elderly be damned—she kicked and thrashed, swinging her legs at Natasha. Her free arm stretched backward, fingers digging into the doorframe with desperate strength. She didn't dare let go, not for a second.

Thankfully, Marco and Sebastian were approaching from the far end of the corridor just then.

They heard the scream. Their heads snapped toward the sound instantly.

The moment they registered the scene, both men's expressions transformed.

Sebastian moved first.

He broke into a run, his deep blue tie with its pale cloud embroidery streaming behind him. When he reached Scarlett, he snapped something in rapid Seraphine, then immediately clamped his hand around Natasha's wrist while his other arm pulled Scarlett against his chest.

Scarlett had no idea what that Seraphine phrase meant, but she knew her arm was saved.

Not just her arm—all of her was saved.

Her fingers, which had been clinging desperately to the doorframe, started trembling. Scarlett's legs gave out. She would have collapsed if not for Sebastian's solid grip holding her upright.

Marco arrived then, too. The expression on his face was unlike any Scarlett had seen from him—dead serious, almost harsh. He launched into a severe stream of Seraphine directed at Natasha.

He was speaking Seraphine, but Natasha seemed to understand perfectly. She even showed him the highest level of deference.

She bowed her head, all traces of that earlier viciousness and madness vanished. Halfway through Marco's lecture, she glanced at Scarlett leaning against Sebastian. For a brief moment, confusion flickered in her eyes—then clarity returned.

Scarlett didn't meet Natasha's gaze.

She buried her face in Sebastian's chest. Her heart was still pounding violently.

"What happened?" Rosalia's voice rang out from behind them.