Out of Control: Into Your Everything-Chapter 23: Improvement

Scarlett Shaw: "Mm."

Penelope Shaw: "Don’t be too upset. Breaking up with Ryan Ford is for your own good. With his family background, you wouldn’t be worthy of him even if there were a hundred of you. If you married in, you’d still be looked down on."

"Mom, if you put it that way, Sis really will start thinking there’s only a hundred times’ difference between herself and Ryan Ford." Chloe Grant laughed lightly, speaking casually.

Penelope Shaw glanced at Scarlett. "You’re young, but your situation is just too poor. I’ve been reaching out to my contacts lately—there’s a pretty good guy who wants to get to know you. I’ll send you his WhatsApp, add him and chat for a bit."

A tone that left no room for refusal.

Scarlett felt uncomfortable and refused, saying, "I have no plans to date right now. No need for your trouble, Aunt."

"Scarlett, now that’s just being ungrateful."

Penelope’s eyes were full of mockery.

"Do you really think just because you dated The Fords’ Second Son, you’ve somehow become a phoenix perched on a branch?"

"You even look down on the men your aunt introduces. Do you have any idea what you’re really worth?"

Scarlett completely lost her appetite.

She set down her chopsticks, her tone indifferent: "If that’s what you want to think, that’s fine. I have nothing more to say."

She glanced at Chloe. "Whatever happened between me and Ryan is not for you all to judge. At least, I don’t sleep with someone else’s boyfriend."

Chloe’s face blanched; she lowered her head and ate silently.

Penelope only felt her daughter had been deeply wronged, and snapped, "Scarlett, is this how you act as an older sister? Always mocking and ridiculing your sister at every turn?"

Scarlett: "That question should be for Chloe Grant. Ask her what kind of little sister she’s been."

Penelope, enraged, slammed a bowl on the floor with a crack; rice scattered everywhere, the ceramic shattered to pieces.

Chloe immediately crouched down to clean up.

Penelope pulled her up. "Chloe, leave it! Let your dad and Scarlett clean up!"

Chester Grant got up and walked over.

Scarlett remained seated, unmoved, voice flat: "Aunt, didn’t you always say people should take responsibility for their own mistakes? You’re the one who broke the bowl—so what, did you break your own hand too while you were at it?"

She would never forget, years ago when she moved into Penelope’s house, the day she accidentally broke a bowl and Penelope beat her with a clothes hanger until her skin split open.

Now Penelope was using smashing a bowl as a signal, looking for a reason to scold her—but why should she just grit her teeth and swallow it?

"Tch—"

While picking up the shards, Chloe suddenly sucked in a breath.

She’d cut her finger, a little blood oozed out.

Chester pulled his daughter aside, putting a band-aid on her.

All Scarlett felt was that there was no point in staying for this meal. Penelope claimed to be ill, but could still muster energy to torment her—so she clearly wasn’t that sick.

She stood up, ready to leave.

Penelope gave Chester a look; Chester hesitated, Penelope’s brow twisted tight, her expression cold.

Chester turned and went into the other room.

When he came out, there was a rope and hanger in his hands.

In the split second before Scarlett could react, he tied her up, handed the hanger to Penelope, who began beating Scarlett’s flesh and skin without mercy.

Again and again, until the hanger was misshapen, only then did Penelope pause, saying, "Look at you, drowning in debt—just the fact that there’s a man willing to have you is already your luck. I try my best to find you a good family and you still dare show me attitude!"

Kneeling on the floor, Scarlett said stubbornly, "Then give that ’luck’ to yourself or to Chloe—do you two want it?"

Penelope grabbed another hanger.

Chloe watched coldly from the side, lips curled, a faint smile on her face.

Chester, unable to bear it, wanted to intervene, but Penelope shot him a glare and he could only turn to persuade Scarlett, "Scarlett, just apologize to your aunt, let her calm down, and add the guy as a friend. Your aunt is doing this for you—everyone needs someone to rely on."

Scarlett: "I did nothing wrong, and I don’t need that kind of kindness."

Penelope used to beat her, and she used to beg for mercy, but the more she begged, the harder Penelope would hit.

Besides, she hadn’t done anything wrong—why should she submit?

You could take losses, but this kind of loss—she would never admit to it.

Penelope wanted to beat Scarlett until she begged for mercy, but at that moment the security door opened from the outside and Claire Grant burst in, catching sight of Scarlett kneeling on the floor at once.

"Scarlett!"

Claire didn’t even take off her shoes, rushed over, untied Scarlett, and helped her up.

Then she frowned, looking at Penelope. "Mom, Scarlett is your actual niece. You hit her—did you think about Uncle?"

Penelope sneered, "Ever since my brother got in trouble, Serena disappeared without a trace. I paid off her debts and raised her daughter, only to feed a thankless wretch—so I can’t give her a lesson?"

Claire: "You call this a lesson? You treat Scarlett like she’s a war criminal."

"Claire, is your elbow always turning outward?"

Chloe suddenly said coldly.

Claire: "Scarlett’s not an outsider! Or what, are you saying you don’t want to admit to Uncle either? Better watch out or Uncle might crawl out from under your bed at midnight to scare you for Scarlett’s sake!"

Chloe: "You—!"

While the siblings quarreled, Scarlett had already walked wordlessly to the door, opened it, and left.

Claire followed after her.

Chloe glanced at the door, looking upset. "Mom, there’s something off about how Claire feels towards Scarlett."

Chester: "Aren’t you overthinking it? Scarlett’s Claire’s older cousin. How could there be any other feelings?"

"Why not?"

Penelope’s face darkened, she slanted a glare at Chester and sneered:

"Didn’t you used to have some twisted ideas about Scarlett yourself? You’ve raised your son to be like this—Chester, why didn’t you just disappear with Serena, that bitch? Our family wouldn’t have missed you, and with you here it only feels even more crowded!"

Chester’s face was uncomfortable; he said nothing more.

Luckily, Claire hadn’t heard this conversation, or there would have been another heated argument.

Scarlett’s uncle, Benjamin, had been truly good to him and Chloe while alive. No complaints there.

On every holiday he’d give them cash-filled red envelopes, take them and Scarlett on trips in summer and winter breaks, and never missed a birthday present for any of them.

Claire remembered all those good things.

He just couldn’t understand why Penelope and Chloe treated Scarlett like she was an enemy.

He caught up with Scarlett, noting how pale and bloodless her face was, worriedly offered to take her to the hospital, but Scarlett refused.

Scarlett thanked Claire for what happened earlier.

Claire replied "no problem" and didn’t say more. They soon parted ways.

...

Julian Ford had felt unwell all afternoon and had napped on the sofa.

When he woke up again, it was deep night outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. There was noise from the kitchen; he sat up, looked over, and saw Scarlett just turning off the stove, meeting his gaze as she turned around.

Julian: "When did you come back?"

"About an hour ago." Scarlett paused. "You have a slight fever. The meds on the table haven’t been touched. I figured you probably hadn’t eaten either, so I made some soup."

She ladled out a bowl of soup and brought it to him.

Julian leaned back against the sofa, glanced at her indifferently, didn’t move.

Scarlett had interacted with Julian a few times now and understood what he meant, so she used a small spoon to feed him.

Julian tasted a few mouthfuls. "You’ve improved."

Scarlett: "As long as you like it."

Her voice was low, lacking the usual gritted-teeth tone, a rare hint of gentleness, calmness.

Julian rarely finished a whole bowl of soup, but this time he did, eating even the pork ribs and radish inside.

As Scarlett moved away from him, Julian glanced down at her.

She lowered her eyes, long lashes casting a shadow beneath them, making her look especially docile. She had no makeup on, features clean and pure, lips a faint pink.

Julian felt his body temperature rise a little more, absently tugged at his collar. "Not wearing a mask anymore? Want to catch my sickness?"