ROSALIE'S POV~The room smelled too clean.Sterile, like the hospital room I’d once woken up in, empty arms and a hollow body. The walls were soft beige, the light dimmed to be gentle, as if that would ease the chaos inside my head. Nothing would. Not anymore.I sat on the couch, rigid, unmoving. My coat was still on. I hadn’t spoken a word since they brought me here. Not to the driver. Not to the guards. Not to the therapist who was now sitting across from me with a too-soft voice and patient eyes.She crossed her legs, flipping through her notepad gently. “Rosalie… I understand today must have been a lot. Would you like to talk about what triggered the reaction at the site?”I blinked slowly. My jaw clenched. I said nothing.She tilted her head slightly, like I was a wounded bird she was trying not to scare off. “Sometimes trauma shows up in ways we least expect. It’s okay to feel angry. It’s okay to feel confused—”“Do you have a child?” I asked suddenly, my voice brittle.She froz
ROSALIE'S POV ~I swallowed hard when our eyes met. Ezra was standing at the door, his gaze hard, a cocktail of rage and worry fighting for dominance. He didn’t even hesitate—his boots thudded on the floor as he walked straight to my bed, and Dr. Asher stepped back, giving him the space he clearly needed.I couldn’t look at him for too long. But I didn’t miss how his eyes roamed over me, lingering on my bruised arms and the pale face that reflected nothing but exhaustion.“She okay?” His voice was low, rough with the worry he didn’t know how to mask.Dr. Asher nodded. “She just needs rest. She’ll be alright tomorrow.”Ezra didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded along anyway. “If you say so.”“Rest, Risalie. Please.” The doctor offered a tight, polite smile before excusing himself, leaving me alone with Ezra. I didn’t want him here. I didn’t want to hear his voice, feel his concern—it was too much. So, I leaned back into the pillow, keeping my face averted.Ezra’s sigh was loud, like he
ROSALIE'S POV~My heart plummeted as I walked into the lavish banquet hall, my eyes sweeping over the sea of elites, their chattering filled the entire hall as soft music played.My gaze moved to Damien, my husband, who stood beside me ever since we arrived making my heart crack. For the past one hour, he had been glued to his phone, his face never lifting from its screen, a smile spread across his lips. It was a smile I had never seen him direct at me; for the past three years of our marriage.I could feel my chest tightening at the thought of him texting someone else, but I dared not suspect. When Damien finally pocketed his phone and turned to me, I met his gaze with a hard look.His eyes darkened as he spoke, "Don't you know how to fake a smile anymore? Those irritating little smiles of yours that screamed nothing but desperation? We're making an appearance in front of several high calibre people for goodness sake. You must carry this facade on without any slip, Rosalie."His word
ROSALIE'S POV~“You're still up?" “Let's get a divorce, Damien." I interrupted him just before he could continue speaking and I saw his shoulders slump.Damien stared at me in silence, his chest heaving up and down. I had no idea what he was thinking. "Are you out of your mind?" he asked, his voice menacing.I shrugged nonchalantly, descending the last of the stairs to stand before him. “Let's not play this game, Damien. I want a divorce,” I declared, folding my arms across my chest. “And that's final. You can go be with whoever you want. Don't you think this farce of a marriage is stopping you from having an open affair with the woman that you claim to love? Think about it!” Damien's face turned bright red with anger as he closed the distance between us.“Do you think if I wanted to divorce you that much, I wouldn't have done it?” he shouted, his eyes narrowed into slits. “I wouldn’t even blink twice to serve you the divorce papers, Rosaline.”I scoffed, not letting his words affe
ROSALIE'S POV~Dressed head to toe in concealing layers so I wouldn't be recognized by the public or anyone else, I exited the SUV, casting my gaze around the hospital parking lot. The weight of my dark sunglasses and heavy shawl did nothing to prevent a chill from running down my spine as I realized I was being followed. Four men, dressed casually yet suspiciously, lingered just outside my line of sight. Damien’s men—I was sure of it.These were the same men who I had seen, lingering right outside the mansion when I had driven out. They had traced me! How hadn't I realized that on time?!Every alarm in my head went off at once, screaming danger. He had placed them here to watch me."Fucking asshole!" I muttered under my breath, feeling my heart race. Damien’s insidious control was suffocating, and I knew I needed to escape his lap dogs. But how? My mind raced, struggling to come up with a plan. I couldn’t risk my pregnancy being discovered.I slipped back into the car, glancing aro
ROSALIE'S POV~"I see..." she muttered to herself, the words reverberating in the car. The suffocating air in the vehicle seemed to grow even thicker and thicker. “I'll help you." Chloe attempted to smile, but her lips remained frozen, unmoved by the effort. I turned away, gazing out the window as the car pulled away, my chest feeling tight and constricted.Chloe parked the car on a side street, a deserted place that would hopefully provide a shield from Damien’s watchful gaze. I dialed my lawyer’s number, who promptly arrived with a fresh set of divorce papers. My fingers trembled slightly as I accepted them, carrying them back to Chloe’s waiting car.Chloe’s hand was firm as she offered me the pen. Her face was impassive, but I could sense the barely contained excitement, like a storm brewing beneath the surface. With a shaky hand, I took the pen and began to sign the papers, my vision blurring as tears formed in the corners of my eyes. The letters on the page seemed to swirl and d
ROSALIE'S POV~ I stared up at the stark, white ceiling, the tears from my eyes rolling silently down my cheeks. The room swam in a haze of white lights and sterile smells, my body shivering from the cold of the metal table beneath me. I refused the anesthesia the doctor offered, preferring the pain to the numbness. I wanted to feel everything—every needle prick, every tug of the sutures, every throbbing ache—to remind me that this was real. That this pain was mine. The doctor finished his work, pulling the last stitch through my skin with clinical efficiency. He set the needle down and turned to face me, his lips pulling into a thin line. I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall freely. They ran in rivers down the side of my face, pooling in the hollow of my ear. I wanted to scream, to rage against the injustice of it all, but I couldn't. There was nothing left but this empty, hollow pain. “You're done?" My voice was hoarse and gruffy. I snapped my eyes open. “These people
Chapter 6:ROSALIE'S POV~~THREE YEARS LATER~I snapped my eyes open as the plane landed on the runway, my Hermes Birkin Bag clutched tightly in my grip. My gaze was cold and calculated, taking in every detail of the scene around me. The private jet's door opened and a swarm of flight attendants rushed to gather my bags, while I descended the stairs with slow steps. Every fiber of my being was on high alert. Everything had changed since I'd last been here. The cityscape, the air, the atmosphere—everything felt different."Welcome ma'am, Mr. Montgomery wanted to know if you enjoyed the flight in his new jet," a bodyguard said.I turned to face him, my lips curling into a small, cold smile. "Mr. Montgomery is quite generous," I replied. The guard nodded and gestured for me to follow, tapping his earpiece as we walked.Three years had passed since Ezra had sent me away abroad to study further, offering to pay for everything I needed to rebuild my life, return back home and manage one of
ROSALIE'S POV ~I swallowed hard when our eyes met. Ezra was standing at the door, his gaze hard, a cocktail of rage and worry fighting for dominance. He didn’t even hesitate—his boots thudded on the floor as he walked straight to my bed, and Dr. Asher stepped back, giving him the space he clearly needed.I couldn’t look at him for too long. But I didn’t miss how his eyes roamed over me, lingering on my bruised arms and the pale face that reflected nothing but exhaustion.“She okay?” His voice was low, rough with the worry he didn’t know how to mask.Dr. Asher nodded. “She just needs rest. She’ll be alright tomorrow.”Ezra didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded along anyway. “If you say so.”“Rest, Risalie. Please.” The doctor offered a tight, polite smile before excusing himself, leaving me alone with Ezra. I didn’t want him here. I didn’t want to hear his voice, feel his concern—it was too much. So, I leaned back into the pillow, keeping my face averted.Ezra’s sigh was loud, like he
ROSALIE'S POV~The room smelled too clean.Sterile, like the hospital room I’d once woken up in, empty arms and a hollow body. The walls were soft beige, the light dimmed to be gentle, as if that would ease the chaos inside my head. Nothing would. Not anymore.I sat on the couch, rigid, unmoving. My coat was still on. I hadn’t spoken a word since they brought me here. Not to the driver. Not to the guards. Not to the therapist who was now sitting across from me with a too-soft voice and patient eyes.She crossed her legs, flipping through her notepad gently. “Rosalie… I understand today must have been a lot. Would you like to talk about what triggered the reaction at the site?”I blinked slowly. My jaw clenched. I said nothing.She tilted her head slightly, like I was a wounded bird she was trying not to scare off. “Sometimes trauma shows up in ways we least expect. It’s okay to feel angry. It’s okay to feel confused—”“Do you have a child?” I asked suddenly, my voice brittle.She froz
DAMIEN'S POV~I sighed, the kind that came from deep inside my chest—tired, annoyed, fucking done.I was already fighting hell behind the scenes. Ezra Montgomery was pushing through my shares like a vulture pecking at a corpse. Half my investors were jumping ship, the media was circling like rabid dogs, and now this—this disaster.Chloe had gone out without guards, without a second thought. She’d rushed out into the damn public like some stray looking for scraps. She was all over the blogs already—hair disheveled, pale as chalk, and vomiting in broad daylight. Filmed. Tagged. Mocked. All because Rosalie had fucking meddled, drawing Chloe out when I’d explicitly told her to keep her ass hidden until I got this mess under control.And now I had another mess to clean up. Another headline. Another screw-up dragging my name down while I was barely keeping my own head above water.The sound of Chloe retching again made my eye twitch. I didn’t move. Just sat there, eyes blank, jaw ticking.D
ROSALIE'S POVI leaned away from Diana’s mic slowly, a smile still painted on my lips. The moment my heels clicked back onto the pavement, Isla was already there, holding out the blueprint with both hands like an offering.I took it.“Ladies and gentlemen,” I said, my voice calm, laced with that careful syrupy sweetness that people never know to fear until it’s too late. I held the rolled blueprint high in one hand and uncurled it with the other, turning to face the crowd with a quiet grace that made the flashing cameras fall still. “I believe it’s time the city knew the truth.”A hush swept over the paparazzi.“This—” I tapped the large, faded layout in front of me, “—is the original structural blueprint of this building. Chloe Lancaster’s cosmetics hub. An illegally constructed property… built on stolen permits, funded through ghost investors, and unfit for human habitation.”Gasps. Murmurs. Eyebrows raised behind camera lenses.“And more importantly,” I went on, voice soft now, the
ROSALIE'S POV~I still remembered that night like it was yesterday.I had just gotten back from one of those endless meetings Damien liked to drag me to. My mind was clouded with his accusations, his insults—more of his slow, silent push to make me feel like I was losing grip on everything. He’d been distant, colder than usual, but I’d convinced myself it was just stress.Then I found Chloe.She was sitting on the couch in the living room when I walked in. Her eyes flickered up at me, those sad, sweet eyes. She knew I was upset. But she always knew how to comfort me.“Rosalie, you’re just overwhelmed. Damien’s under a lot of pressure right now, you know that,” she said, brushing her hand over mine with that fake warmth of hers. Her voice, soft and soothing, felt like silk against my skin.But I wasn’t fool enough to miss the undercurrent in her tone—the way her words just didn’t sit right. She’d been my friend, my sister in this hell, or so I thought. But I could hear the lies hidden
ROSALIE'S POV~The weight of the world felt like it was pressing down on me, but it's nothing compared to the emptiness that gnawed at my chest. I sat alone, staring at the ground beneath me, the place where my baby should have been. The silence in the room was deafening, and yet all I heard was the echo of what was taken from me—what was stolen. The tiny heartbeat I would never hear again. The small hands I would never hold.I didn’t think I’d survive it—honestly, I still don’t know how I am. I moved, I breathed, I spoke... but nothing felt real anymore. All of it—everything I’ve done to build myself up, to reclaim what was lost—felt meaningless.Chloe’s empire was crumbling, piece by piece, and I felt no satisfaction in it. I should be relishing this victory. I should be smiling, should be celebrating. But the only thing I felt was the hollow ache of a mother who would never see her child grow up. Never hear them laugh, never hold their hand while they walk to school, never have th
EZRA'S POV~*PRESENT DAY– MEETING HALL*The noise was a headache. The air was saturated with fake laughter, the sound of over-polished shoes pacing on marble, and investors who thought name-dropping billion-dollar partnerships would be the secret code to winning my attention.It wasn’t.I stood still in the center of it all—stone-faced, unreadable, hands in my pockets—watching them clamor for favor like starved wolves circling a fresh kill.Some fat bastard in an overpriced checkered suit was practically sweating through his pitch, waving a tablet in front of me. “Mr. Montgomery, if I may—our logistics software is fully AI-integrated, your branches will never experience a delay again and—”“Ezra,” another man chimed in, interrupting, smug and silver-haired, “our portfolio saw a 200% increase in green energy returns last quarter. You want us on your side before the government rolls out the next climate bill.”Another chimed in. “I’ve personally worked with the Prime Minister’s—”God.I
CHLOE'S POV~I didn’t even realize I’d been pacing until I saw my own reflection in the hallway mirror—hair disheveled, mascara smudged like war paint down my cheeks. I looked unhinged.The envelope still lay on the floor, but my phone buzzed again. And again. The vibrations were relentless, like a warning drum.I snatched it from the coffee table with trembling fingers and finally flipped it over.24 Missed Calls.14 New Messages.News Alerts: “Emergency Recall on Chloe Lancaster’s New Cosmetic Line After Reports of Skin Burns.”My chest tightened.I clicked one of the notifications. The screen filled with a video—news anchor, grave-faced, reading off a statement.“Several users across New York have reported second-degree burns after using the recently launched Chloe Cosmetics skin serum. The company has yet to release a public statement, but an emergency recall has been issued. This comes just days after Chloe Lancaster was filmed physically assaulting Rosalie Stone at a charity gal
ROSALIE'S POV~The moment we pulled into Ezra’s estate, Naomi practically squealed in my ear.“Oh my God, Rosalie, is this seriously where you’re living now?” she gasped, sticking her head out the window like a damn puppy. “Girl, this looks like something out of Architectural Digest. Is that marble? That’s marble, right? Wait—is that a freaking indoor fountain?!”I stifled a smile as the maids came out to help with her luggage, clearly overwhelmed by the number of designer suitcases she had. Naomi never traveled light. She waved at one of the maids like she was the queen of England and stepped down in her pink Dior slides, sighing dramatically as her feet touched the driveway.“My soles are crying. Who knew first-class still had a way of breaking your damn heels?”I held the door open for her, and once we were inside the grand sitting room, she flopped onto the couch like she owned the place. “Okay, I need a foot rub, a mimosa, and someone’s rich husband to stare at me for the next te