Chapter 3

“Knock… knock… knock!”

The sound of Rosemary’s hand rapping against the door echoed through the house she once called home. Her fingers trembled—not from fear, but from a mixture of anger and bitter resolve.

The door swung open hard. Adrian stood there, his face tense.

“Rosemary?” His voice was heavy, laced with scorn. “So, you finally decided to show up.”

Rosemary’s eyes were cold. “I came to collect my things. Leave the rest here—I don’t care.”

Adrian let out a mocking chuckle, folding his arms across his chest. “Your things? You disappear for two days without a word, and now you show up with that pathetic face, claiming you just want to get your belongings? Do you think I believe that?”

Rosemary lifted her chin, forcing down the pain in her chest. “I didn’t disappear. I needed time after the humiliation you put me through. I won’t spend another night under the same roof as a man like you.”

Adrian stepped forward, his eyes sharp and cutting. “Humiliation? Don’t blame me for your own foolishness. You crashed a party uninvited, embarrassed yourself in front of everyone, and now you point fingers at me? That wasn’t my fault, Rosemary. That was yours.”

Rosemary let out a bitter laugh. “My fault? My fault for being a loyal wife? My fault for giving you my entire life? My fault for believing in you?”

“Loyal?” Adrian sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “You vanished for two days, Rosemary. Two nights, gone. Tell me—where were you sleeping? Or should I say—with whom?”

Rosemary’s face hardened, her expression freezing over. “You dare accuse me of that? After everything you’ve done? You paraded another woman in front of me, and yet you call me a woman of the night?”

Adrian leaned closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Who knows, Rose? A wounded woman can do anything. Perhaps you found comfort in another man’s arms. Doesn’t that sound… more believable?”

SLAP!

Rosemary’s hand struck Adrian’s cheek, the sound ringing through the living room.

“Don’t you ever insult me like that again, Adrian!” Rosemary’s eyes blazed. “I may have lost a miserable marriage, but I have not lost my dignity!”

Adrian held his cheek, his expression darkening before twisting into a cold laugh. “You dare slap me—in my own house?”

“Your house?” Rosemary’s chest rose and fell as her gaze swept the room. “This house was built from both our sweat! From my money too! Don’t you dare pretend it belongs to you alone.”

Adrian stepped closer, his voice low and threatening. “I don’t need your money, Rosemary. All of this is mine. You were just a guest.”

Rosemary’s body shook, but her voice was steady. “A guest? I gave up my career to support you! I handled your business papers, stood by you when you were nothing. And now you tell me I was just a guest?”

Adrian’s grin turned cruel. “Yes. You were nothing more than a burden I carried all this time.”

Rosemary closed her eyes for a moment, breathing through the sting of his words. When she opened them again, her gaze was filled with steel. “If I was a burden, then remember this: that ‘burden’ is what carried you to where you are today. Don’t forget, Adrian—without me, you would still be nobody.”

For a fleeting moment, Adrian froze, his face stiffening. But quickly, he masked it with another cold laugh. “Still daring to challenge me? Even after I cast you out in front of everyone?”

Rosemary stepped forward, their faces only inches apart. “Yes, I dare. Because that night, you thought you turned me into a pathetic woman. But that same night, I realized—I don’t want to live in your shadow anymore. You can insult me, accuse me, throw me away. But listen to this, Adrian: I will not stay down forever. And when I rise, you’ll be the one brought to your knees.”

Adrian narrowed his eyes, his tone quiet but razor-sharp. “A threat? You think you can fight me? You’re alone, Rosemary. You have nothing left.”

Rosemary gave a bitter smile. “Maybe I am alone now. But I have something stronger than anything you own. And that resolve will destroy you, Adrian. One day, it will.”

They stared each other down, the air so heavy it felt like knives slicing through the silence.

Finally, Rosemary turned away, holding back her tears. She walked into the bedroom, opened the wardrobe, and began packing her things into a suitcase. Her hands trembled—not from fear, but from the weight of heartbreak.

Adrian stood at the doorway, arms folded, his face cold. “Take whatever you want. After this, never come back.”

Rosemary zipped the suitcase shut and stood tall. She looked at Adrian one last time—no longer as a broken wife, but as a woman ready for retribution.

“Don’t worry, Adrian. I won’t come back. But I promise you this—you’ll miss the days when I was by your side. You will regret it.”

Adrian didn’t respond, only smirked. But deep inside, something about her final look unsettled him.

Rosemary dragged her suitcase toward the door. As she stepped out, Adrian’s voice rang behind her.

“Don’t ever come back to my house after the divorce, Rosemary. I will never take you back again!”