Chapter 9

The guards immediately stepped forward to take Rosalie's friends away.

"Stop!"

Rosalie threw her wineglass to the floor, shattering it.

"This is my birthday party! I dare any of you to lay a hand on them!"

The guards hesitated.

"Mrs. Farrell, we're just following orders. Please don't make this harder than it has to be."

Rosalie looked at Nathaniel, who was already walking away, then at her terrified friends. She was so overwhelmed with grief and fury she could barely think straight.

She clenched her jaw, her voice firm. "So you're really going to have them beaten? Fine! This is my party, and I'll take responsibility. Give me all 20 blows instead. Every last one!"

"Rosie, no!"

Her friends tried to stop her, tears streaming down their faces. But Rosalie pulled free. She'd made up her mind.

"I'm the reason you're in this mess, so let me handle it. Just go home."

She turned to the guards. "Lead the way."

Outside the base's detention building, the dull thud of a wooden rod striking flesh echoed through the yard.

Rosalie lay facedown on a bench, biting her lip until it bled. Not once did she cry out.

By the 20th blow, she was bruised and bleeding from her back down to her thighs. She was barely conscious.

"Mrs. Farrell..."

Even the soldier who'd carried out the punishment looked at her with pity.

Rosalie struggled to push herself off the bench, her body shaking with pain.

Her face was deathly pale, and cold sweat covered her forehead. Still, she forced herself to stand tall and managed a faint smile for her weeping friends.

"I'm... fine. You should... go home," she managed.

Before leaving the base, she was taken to the military hospital to have her injuries examined. She refused anything for the pain and gritted her teeth as a nurse dressed her wounds.

Afterward, she left without sparing anyone another glance and staggered toward home.

Every step sent fresh agony through her battered body, as though her wounds were being torn open again. The pain was so intense that her vision kept going dark.

By the time Rosalie got home, she could barely stand. She made it as far as the living room before collapsing onto the rug.

She didn't ask any of the household staff for help. Instead, she lay there for a long time, waiting for the pain to ease enough for her to move.

Eventually, she managed to get up and make her way to her bedroom. Every movement sent pain shooting through her body, leaving her drenched in cold sweat.

Still, she gritted her teeth and didn't make a sound.

Nathaniel didn't come home over the next few days.

Rosalie didn't ask where he was. She focused on tending to her wounds and finishing her packing.

A few days later, Edmund called.

"Your divorce has been approved. The notice will appear in tomorrow's paper, so everyone in Nelmora will know. Once it's published, I'll give Nathaniel the drug."

He paused, then added in a warning tone, "And the moment you get your divorce decree, I want you gone! Go as far away as you can, and don't you ever come back!"

Edmund's voice was as cold as ever, but Rosalie was too numb to care.

"Edmund Quinn, you make me sick," she said flatly.

She hung up before he could lash out.

She took one last look around the house.

Then she picked up her bags and headed straight for the airport. Without a moment's hesitation, she boarded a flight out of the country.

And just like that, Rosalie was gone from Nelmora.