Chapter 3-The Fall of Blake McCain

Blake's point of view~~

The penthouse pulsed with the energy of success—my success.

Leila, my wife, glowed under the spotlight, her latest movie selling out theaters, her platinum blonde hair catching every light.

My mother stood nearby, her smug smile a reminder of how we’d clawed our way to the top. Everything was perfect, exactly as I’d planned—until she walked in.

Rosette. My Rosette, or at least the girl she used to be. Barefoot, hospital gown peeking from a coat, her dark brown hair a wild mess, violet eyes burning with something I didn’t recognize. Rage? Madness?

The crowd went silent, and my stomach twisted. What the hell was she doing here?

“Rosette?” My voice came out sharp, cutting through the hush. I set my whiskey down, my grip tight on the glass. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at home.”

“Home?” Her laugh was loud, raw, like a blade slicing through the room. “You mean the cage you keep me in while you flaunt your wife?”

Leila stepped forward, her emerald eyes glinting. She spat harsh words at her and to my surprise, Rosette fired back at her.

My jaw clenched, irritation flaring. She was ruining everything. “Rosette, stop. This isn’t the place—”

“It’s the perfect place,” she cut me off, her voice rising, those violet eyes locked on mine like they could burn through me.

“Right here, in front of your precious guests, I’m ending this. I’m done with you, Blake McCain. Done with your cowardice.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Leila’s face twisted, her voice sharp as she called Rosette a nobody. Yes, that was what she was.

“Nobody?” Rosette’s laugh was cold, biting. “I’m anything but a nobody to that bastard you call a husband, Leila.”

My heart stuttered, but not from guilt. Rosette had been my college sweetheart, the girl who’d looked at me like I was the sun. Back then, I’d loved her—really loved her. We’d met in a lecture hall, her smile bright, her laughter infectious. She’d been everything I wanted, everything I thought I needed.

But when the money started rolling in, when my name became synonymous with power, my mother helped me realise something I never knew.

Rosette was a gold-digger, clinging to me for what I could give her. She had nothing—no name, no wealth, just a pretty face and a sob story.

Then I met Leila, a star in her own right, glamorous, connected, the perfect match for a man like me.

Rosette became a liability, a reminder of a weaker version of myself. So I kept her on the side, made her my mistress, gave her the privilege of staying in my world, because I liked the way she looked at me—like I was still that college kid she’d loved. But my love for her? That was long gone.

Rosette’s voice pulled me back, sharp as a whip.

“I loved you, Blake. I gave up my world for you. And you made me your dirty secret, let your mother call me a leech, let your wife mock me, and above all, you let them take my son away from me.”

Son? What the hell was she talking about? She wasn’t pregnant. This was insanity.

“Rosette, what are you talking about? What son? You’re not—”

“You don’t get it,” she said, her voice breaking but fierce, those eyes boring into me. “You won’t, not yet. But I remember everything. The pain, the betrayal, everything! They killed him, Blake, and you let them!”

Leila laughed, shrill and forced. “You’re insane! Delusional! You think you can ruin my night with your fake stories? What the fuck are you even talking about? Get your shitty self out of here, Rosette!”

Leila was right and I was starting to realise what this all was about. She probably needed more money, recognition, more of my attention. If not, what would make her come to sabotage our party?

Rosette’s lips curled, her voice low, deadly. “Sure, I’m delusional because you don’t understand yet. But remember this, Leila—you’ll never be a mother, and deep down, you know it eats you alive.”

That again. Where was she getting all this claims from?

Leila lunged at her and she dodged, her eyes filled with rage.

My mother’s voice cut through, icy and commanding, calling her ungrateful. Indeed, she was ungrateful. After everything I've done for her and this what she's paying me with?

Rosette turned on her, her voice colder than I’d ever heard. “Everything Blake has—his penthouse, his deals, his life—came from money you don’t even know about. You think I’m here for his scraps? I don’t need them. I never did.”

My mother’s face flushed, her eyes narrowing. “You’re nothing, Rosette. Nothing!”

Rosette faced me again, her words like knives. “I loved you, Blake. I gave up my world for you. And you made me your dirty secret, let your mother call me a leech, let your wife mock me while I carried your child.”

The crowd whispered, their eyes darting between us. My mind reeled. She was losing it, spouting nonsense.

I’d turned a blind eye when my mother criticized her, when Leila humiliated her. It was easier that way. Rosette was a possession, a trophy I kept because she adored me. But now, standing here, making a fool of me in front of everyone, she was a problem.

“Rosette, please,” I said, my voice softer, trying to salvage this. “Let’s talk in private. I love you. I always have.”

The words were empty, and I knew it. I didn’t love her—not anymore. I liked the way she made me feel, the way her eyes lit up for me and me alone.

Losing her was like losing a prized asset, nothing more. But I couldn’t let her walk away like this, not in front of everyone.

“Love?” She spat the word, her eyes blazing. “You chose her. You chose their lies, their status, their control. You let them destroy me, Blake. You don’t get to claim love now.”

Sooner than I expected, she was leaving. She didn’t look back. The elevator doors opened, and she stepped inside.

I caught a glimpse of her face—fierce, unbroken—before a shadowed figure slipped in with her. The doors shut, and she was gone.

The room erupted in whispers.

Leila grabbed my arm, her nails digging in. “What the hell was that, Blake? She’s lost her mind! Talking about a child, about me being barren? You need to fix this!”

I pulled away, irritation spiking. “Fix what, Leila? She’s gone. Let her go.”

My mother stepped closer, her voice low. “She’s trouble, Blake. Always has been. You should’ve cut her off years ago. She’s just a gold-digger throwing a tantrum.”

I nodded, but my mind was elsewhere. Rosette’s words echoed—they killed him, and you let them. She was crazy, right? There was no child. But the way she’d looked at me, like she knew something, gnawed at me.

“Let’s get back to the party,” I said, forcing a smile. “She’s not worth it.”

Leila huffed, tossing her hair. “She’s nothing. Never was.”

But as the music started again, the crowd’s eyes lingered on me, judging. I hated it. Rosette had humiliated me, and I’d let her.

She was supposed to stay quiet, stay mine. Now she was gone, and I felt… nothing. Just the sting of losing something I’d owned.

~~~~~~~

Days later, I was driving to a meeting, the city’s skyline a blur outside my Bentley. My phone buzzed, an unknown number.

“Who’s this?” I answered, impatient.

“Mr. McCain? This is Dr. Harris from City General Hospital. I’m calling about Rosette Jenner. She came in a few days ago for a check-up. She’s pregnant—six weeks along. We asked her to come in yesterday for further tests; her condition is concerning. She didn’t show, and we couldn’t reach her. Since you’re listed as her spouse, we’re hoping you can inform her to come in. It’s urgent.”

My hands froze on the wheel. Pregnant? Rosette?

My mind spun, her words from the party crashing back. I carried your child… they killed him.

No. It couldn’t be. She was lying, delusional. But the doctor’s voice was steady, certain.

My chest tightened, a flicker of something—guilt?—creeping in. I’d ignored her, let my mother and Leila tear her down. Had she been telling the truth?

“Mr. McCain? Are you there?”

“Yeah,” I muttered, my voice hoarse. “I’ll… I’ll tell her.”

I hung up, my thoughts a mess. Pregnant. My child. I’d loved her once, hadn’t I? But she’d been a leech, a nobody. Or had she?

My mother’s voice, Leila’s taunts—they’d shaped how I saw her. What if—

A horn blared. I swerved, too late. My car slammed

into a truck, metal screeching, glass shattering. Pain exploded through me, and then—darkness.

I woke to beeping machines, my body aching, my head foggy.

The hospital room was stark, sterile. A woman sat beside me, her platinum blonde hair tied up, her face streaked with tears, her hand gripping mine. My mother stood at the foot of the bed, her expression tight. She looked older.

“Blake, thank God,” the woman sobbed, leaning closer. “You’ve been out for days. We were so worried.”

I blinked, her face unfamiliar. Her voice, her touch—none of it registered.

“Who… who are you?”

Her eyes widened, her hand freezing. “What? Blake, it’s me. Leila. Your wife.”

“Wife?” I frowned, my mind blank. I didn’t know

her.

My mother stepped forward, “Blake, don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been in an accident. You’re confused.”

But I wasn’t listening. My mind was somewhere else, somewhere warm. Last thing I remember was being in a lecture hall, a girl with violet eyes and a laugh that made my heart race.

“Rosette,” I whispered. “Where’s Rosette?”

The woman's face twisted, her voice shrill. “Rosette? You’re asking for her? After everything she did at the party?”

I shook my head, confused. “Party? I… I don’t remember. I need to see Rosette. Is she still at. college?”

My mother’s eyes narrowed. “College? She’s gone, Blake. What's wrong with you? Someone get the doctor immediately!”

Gone? No, she can't leave me.

Rosette’s face was all I could see, her warm smile, her voice saying she loved me.

Nothing else made sense. Not the woman claiming to be my wife, not my cold-eyed mother looking confused like I was a whole different person. Only Rosette. And I had to find her.