CHAPTER THREE:THE BREAKING POINT

The morning air in the Westview mansion was heavy with unspoken tension. Rose lifted her glass of wine to her lips, smiling a little too brightly. After last night’s drunken spectacle, everyone expected her to wake up remorseful. Instead, she raised her glass toward her mother as though nothing had happened.

“To you, Mother,” she said, her voice light, almost taunting.

Diana’s eyes narrowed. She was ready to unleash a storm of scolding when her phone rang.

“Hello, Clinton,” she answered quickly, her tone changing at once. Relief washed over the room.

In that brief distraction, Rose’s eyes caught the morning newspaper spread out on the table. A bold headline screamed at her: Hartman Industries to Begin Construction on City Landmark Site. The site her NGO’s land.

Her chest tightened. Without a second thought, she ripped the portion of the page and slipped it into her bag.

“Ralph, the paper,” Diana snapped once she hung up the phone.

Ralph froze, reluctant. He knew the part Rose had torn away contained Diana’s party coverage something she had been desperate to see.

“Are you deaf? Hand it over!” she barked.

He obeyed, passing the mutilated paper with trembling fingers.

“What is this?” Diana’s face twisted with fury as her eyes darted over the torn edges. She shot up from her chair, her voice echoing across the room.

“ROSE!”

But Rose was already gone.

At the construction site, Sam Hartman inspected the progress with calm authority.

“The eviction notices have been sent?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” the manager replied. “Everything is in motion.”

Sam’s jaw tightened. “Make sure the people are relocated properly. It’s not right to throw them out without securing a place for them.”

“Yes, Mr. Hartman.”

Meanwhile, Rose reached her NGO only to find an eviction notice pinned to the door: Vacate immediately. The land has been sold to Hartman Group for hotel development.

Her hands shook as she tore it down. Rage burned in her chest.

“They can’t take this place,” she told the children gathered around her. “This is your home. And I won’t let anyone take it away from you.”

She whispered to herself, I’ll go straight to Hartman. He’ll have to face me.

Later that day, Sam’s sleek black car pulled out of the site. “Driver, let’s go,” he ordered.

Up ahead, Rose bent down to pick her fallen bag from the ground, stepping right into his path. Sam opened his door, concerned.

“Are you alright?” he called out.

But she was already storming off.

“What kind of people live here?” he muttered to his driver. “What if she was hurt?”

As they drove past, his eyes lingered on her face. Recognition hit him,it was the same fiery girl from the airport. The cotton candy scene.

Rose, muttering to herself about saving the NGO, wrestled with a sudden hiccup fit. She reached her car only to find Sam leaning casually against it.

“You!” she snapped. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for my money,” Sam said coolly.

“What money?” she hiccuped.

“For the cotton candy, remember?” His smirk widened.

They bickered until, suddenly, her hiccups stopped.

“It stopped,” Sam observed.

“What stopped?” she asked, frowning.

“Your hiccup,” he teased, imitating the sound. He leaned closer. “My grandmother always said the best cure is a little scare.”

Rose stepped back, rolling her eyes. “What is wrong with you?”

For a moment, they both smiled before he walked away, glancing back at her. Second meeting, he thought. I can’t wait for the third.

At Hartman Enterprises, Sam congratulated his staff. “Good work. Keep it up. Stacy, I’ll be in a conference meeting,no disturbances.”

Rose burst into the lobby demanding to see him.

“Mr. Hartman isn’t available,” the receptionist said firmly.

Rose pushed past her. “I’ll find him myself.”

The noise reached Sam’s ears. He signaled Stacy to handle it.

“Mr. Hartman has already traveled to London,” Stacy lied smoothly when she confronted Rose.

“I’ll wait right here until he comes back from his so-called London trip,” Rose retorted. “I’m not letting anyone throw my children out of their home.”

Stacy, unmoved, gave her an email address instead. “Don’t share this with anyone.”

That night, Rose sent her message: Touch my kids’ home and I’ll break your legs.

Sam received it mid-meeting, brows raised. Dismissing the board, he called his manager, Miller.

“Why is this woman threatening me? Aren’t the evicted families being relocated?”

“Yes, sir,” Miller lied smoothly. “She’s just using her kids to get money.”

Sam frowned. “That must be it.”

Back at the NGO, the children mocked Rose’s “gentle” email and drafted their own, filled with insults.

“Don’t you dare destroy our homes. Who do you think you are?” Lily hit send before Rose could stop her.

Sam read it on site. His jaw clenched. “Pea-brained,” he muttered, repeating a phrase he’d overheard earlier.

But Miller grew uneasy. If Sam kept paying attention, he’d soon discover Miller was pocketing the relocation funds.

By evening, Diana was busy preparing for her auction at the Pinch Hotel. Her staff trembled under her sharp tongue.

“Ralph, did you finish the work?”

“I….”

“Imbecile! Why do you even live in my house if you’re this useless?”

When Mr. Donovan arrived with his daughter, Diana transformed into charm and elegance. The daughter rejected every piece until she spotted a rare diamond set in a magazine photo.

“We’ll make it for you,” Diana said smoothly. “A unique and exquisite choice.”

After they left, Kelvin panicked. “But those diamonds are impossible to find.”

Diana’s eyes hardened. “That’s the difference between you and me. Where you see impossibility, I see opportunity. Get those diamonds or find another place to live.”

And as the grand doors of the Pinch Hotel swung open that evening, three storms Diana, Rose, and Sam stepped into the same orbit, unaware that the night would change everything.