The limo rolled through the towering iron gates, which swung open smoothly.
Beyond the gates stretched a long private road, it's surface so smooth it practically glittered under the sun.
On both sides of the road were neatly trimmed lawns, their deep green standing out against the light-colored stone sculptures placed across the grounds.
These sculptures weren't ordinary garden ornaments. They were imposing, larger-than-life replicas of Greek and Roman gods, each one frozen in a commanding pose.
Athena stood at the forefront, her shield raised, as though guarding the estate. To her left was Ares, his spear piercing the morning sky.
Further in, the limo approached the main building, and Scarlett's Las Vegas estate came into view.
Yeah, you heard that right.
This was just her estate in Las Vegas, her main estate remained in Italy though she also had one in almost every major country, just like this one.
You know, just in case.
The mansion was a modern masterpiece, a blend of contemporary and classical design.
The main building was large, with huge columns decorated with detailed designs similar to those found in ancient Roman churches.
The driveway encircled a central fountain, a masterpiece carved from white Carrara marble imported directly from Italy.
At each corner of the estate, security towers stood discreetly, their blacked-out windows hiding security cameras that tracked every movement. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter in pairs, dressed in black uniforms and carrying semi-automatic rifles that were slung across their chest and a radio clipped to their shoulder. They moved with military precision, their gazes sharp and alert.
Scarlett's estates were never just homes, they were fortresses.
I mean if you're gonna do something, do it right, right?
To the right of the mansion lay a private helipad, the bold white "H" glowing faintly. To the left, a garage the size of a small dealership housed her fleet of luxury cars. Beyond that, a hidden path led to a shooting range, though only her most trusted operatives knew about its existence.
The limo came to a stop in front of the wide stone staircase that led to the mansion's main doors.
At the top of the stairs, two more guards stood motionless, their hands resting lightly on the weapons holstered at their sides.
Uniformed staff, already somehow alerted of her arrival, stood in two lines on either side of the staircase, their heads lowered.
Scarlett pushed open the door herself before the driver could even react, stepping out with natural grace.
She adjusted the cuffs of her midnight-blue Italian suit, the sharp tailored trousers emphasizing her commanding presence.
The guards near the stairs snapped to attention as she ascended, her heels clicking against the polished stone steps.
"Where's Luca?" she asked a nearby maid without breaking stride.
"He's inside packing up ma'am." The maid replied, her head still lowered.
She nodded and continued walking as the limo rolled away silently, disappearing toward the garage.
A guard stepped forward as she approached the towering double doors. With a sharp nod, he pulled one open, standing rigid as she swept past without a glance.
Inside, the large living area opened up before her, with shiny marble floors and high ceilings. A big crystal chandelier hung above, scattering sunlight into sparkling patterns on the white walls.
Scarlett's heels echoed as she crossed the floor.
At the base of the grand staircase, a figure appeared, dragging a bulging duffel bag noisily down the steps.
Luca.
He was dressed in a casual leather jacket over a dark shirt, his usual cocky grin plastered across his face. The bag thudded behind him with every step, but he didn't seem to care as he descended with an air of exaggerated drama.
When he spotted Scarlett, his grin widened. "Pumpkin!" he called out, opening his arms as if expecting a hug.
Scarlett's eyes narrowed instantly, her expression darkening into a warning glare.
Completely unfazed, Luca strode over, patting her on the head like a child. "I'll miss you, pumpkin," he said in a mocking sentimental tone, his voice just loud enough to echo in the room.
Scarlett's jaw clenched, her eyes flashing dangerously. "How. many. times. have i told you not to act all mushy with me in front of others?"
Luca's grin only widened as he leaned back, his hands casually slipping into his jacket pockets. "So, I can do it in private?"
Scarlett didn't respond and simply stared at him, her gaze so cutting it could have sliced steel.
He finally raised his hands. "Alright, alright, fine," he made an exaggerated sigh. "Anyway, can I use your helicopter?"
She rolled her eyes and groaned. "Whatever," she muttered, brushing past him without a second glance.
"Thanks, pumpkin!" he called after her, his grin returning as he slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and strutted toward the door.
Scarlett shook her head, muttering something under her breath as the door slammed shut behind him.
Ascending the grand staircase with the same grace she used in everything, she turned down a wide corridor lined with art pieces and subtle accents of luxury, nothing over the top, just enough to exude wealth without screaming it.
When she reached her door, she suddenly paused.
Twisting the handle slightly, she waited for a moment before finally pushing it.
The room was cold and dark, just like its owner. A king-sized bed with white sheets stood against the far wall, with black nightstands on either side.
The floor was dark wood, clean and shiny like a mirror. One wall was made of glass, giving a clear view of the estate grounds.
Everything was formal, devoid of any personal touches.
Scarlett didn't stop to admire the space, crossing the room with steady steps. She entered the bathroom adjacent to it, shutting the door behind her.
Moments later, the sound of running water could be heard.
For a while, the room remained still, but then, from behind the heavy curtain framing the glass wall, a figure emerged.
He moved silently, dressed head to toe in black, his gloved hands gripping a long gleaming knife.
His face was covered by a mask, and his posture radiated lethal intent.
Step by careful step, he approached the bathroom door. His movements were silent and almost flawless. Almost.
When he reached the door, he hesitated, his hand hovering over the handle for just a moment before he slowly pushed it open.
Steam immediately curled into the air, blurring the his vision. The sound of water rushing over tiles filled his ears as he stepped inside.
But instead of a vulnerable figure behind the frosted glass of the shower, he was met with cold steel pressed firmly against his neck.
Scarlett stood in front of him, her dark eyes sharp and merciless. In her hand was a blade, the edge biting into the assassin's skin.
"You're really careless," she said icily . "I could see your shadow from right under the door. Why do you think I twisted the handle and waited? I was waiting for you to go hide."
The man stiffened, his breath hitching.
Her lips curled into a cold smile, her blade pressing harder. "Adrian sent you too, didn't he? He has the habit of sending boys to do a man's job. It's kinda cute."
The man didn't respond, his grip tightening on the knife.
"Go ahead, try something. Give me an excuse." The knife drew a thin line of blood.
At that moment, he suddenly lunged himself, twisting his body in an attempt to break free but Scarlett moved faster.
She slammed him into the tiled wall with brutal force, his knife clattering to the floor as the back of his head hit the tiles with a sickening thud.
Without breaking a sweat, she dragged him by the collar into the bedroom as if he was trash.
She swung him into the armchair by the window, his body collapsing into it awkwardly.
"You know I'm in a terrible mood right now," she said, striding towards the dresser. "Someone cost me ten billion dollars. Do you know how much that stings? I was thinking of going to the shooting range to relieve some stress or even do some archery. But since you're here..." She pulled open a drawer, revealing a long spiked purple leather whip.
Grabbing the whip, she uncoiled it, the leather gleaming ominously in the light. "...might as well have some fun."
The man's eyes widened, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
She tilted her head, inspecting the whip with a faint smile. "Do you know what this is?" she stepped closer. "It's not just for show. I've broken stronger men than you with this."
She snapped the whip once and the sound echoed like a gunshot.
The man immediately flinched, his arms gripping the armrest.
Without waiting for another moment, she brought the whip down on his chest, the leather striking with a vicious crack.
"AHHH!!" The man cried out, a red welt blooming inside his black shirt.
He immediately tried standing up, but Scarlett kicked him viciously, throwing him back into the chair.
"I should thank you actually. Torturing you might be the only thing that keeps me sane today."
Another strike!
This one hit his thigh and he screamed, writhing against the chair.
"Adrian sent you, right? Tell me where he is."
The man shook his head, gasping.
She clicked her tongue. "Wrong answer."
She swung again, the whip wrapping around his arm and cutting through his sleeve.
Blood seeped through the fabric as he cried out, his head lolling back.
"You do have a choice, you know," she crouched in front of him. Grabbing his chin roughly, she forced him to meet her gaze. "You tell me who sent you and everything you know or I keep on going. Trust me I've got nowhere else to be. I'm practically jobless."
The man glared daggers at her.
How dare she say she was jobless, when she just talked about suffering a ten billion dollar loss.
If that was being jobless, won't everyone want to be jobless?
He continued glaring at her. If looks could kill, she'd long since be dead
Scarlett sighed dramatically, standing and raising the whip again. "Alright let's keep playing then."
She was about swinging the whip when the man suddenly yelled.
"Wait!" He gasped loudly. "You're right. It was Adrian, I'll tell you everything I know."
She immediately grinned. "That's a good boy."