Ch4 - I will leave

Rosalie's POV

Right after Vanessa hung up, my phone rang again.

This time it was my mom, Helen. Her voice sounded worried. “How did you just happen to run into Lucian like that? Do you know why he came back so suddenly? Did you know beforehand?”

“No,” I said. “I didn’t.”

She sighed. “Just… come home for a bit.”

“Okay, Mom.”

I didn’t even wait for my stuff to finish being unpacked. I left the apartment and grabbed a cab back home.

The moment my mom saw me, she looked stressed out. “Alright, tell me what happened.”

So I told her everything—how I ran into Lucian at the hospital, step by step.

Only then did she notice my injured right hand. She carefully lifted it, her face tightening. “Oh my God… why is the bandage so thick? How deep is this cut? Does it hurt?”

The concern in her voice warmed something inside me. I couldn’t help acting a little spoiled for a moment. “Yeah… it kinda hurts.”

“Nessa really went too far this time.” Helen kept frowning.

Just then Mrs. Moss stepped forward and cut right into the rare warm moment between us.

“Ma’am, Miss Vanessa is packing in her room. She says she’s leaving the house.”

Normally, the second my mom heard anything about Vanessa, she’d jump out of her seat immediately.

But this time she hesitated.

“This…”

She was still holding my hand when a loud bang came from the hallway behind us. She instinctively turned her head to look.

I did too.

Vanessa was walking out of her room, dragging a suitcase behind her.

Her face was full of grievance. “She did it on purpose! She knew I wanted to switch back and she still went to see Lucian!”

“Nessa.” My mom’s tone turned serious. “Rosalie went to the hospital because you pushed her and she got hurt. How could she possibly know Lucian would be there too?”

Vanessa pouted even harder. “Mrs. Moss saw everything. She said Rosalie was chatting with Lucian like they were having a great time.”

My heart sank.

So Mrs. Moss had been the one who reported it. She must’ve only seen a quick moment and misunderstood the whole thing. And “having a great time”? Where the hell did she get that from?

“I accidentally bumped into him,” I explained quickly. “At first I didn’t even realize it was him.”

“Fine. Let’s say you ran into him by accident,” Vanessa snapped. “Then why didn’t you leave right away? Why were you so quick to tell him you were his wife?”

“You did it on purpose just to embarrass me!” she insisted.

“Nessa.” Helen warned again, but her tone wasn’t as harsh this time. “What’s done is done. There’s no point arguing about it now.”

Vanessa’s brows pulled together. She looked furious but didn’t have anything else to say. Her grip tightened around the suitcase handle.

“You’re siding with that little bitch!” she shouted. “I knew it. Ever since you found out I wasn’t your biological daughter, you’ve treated me differently!”

“Sweetheart…” Helen slowly let go of my hand and stood up. “How can you say that? I still treat you like my daughter.”

“You might say that,” Vanessa shot back, tears squeezing out of her eyes, “but compared to her, I already have no place in this family anymore.”

She looked at my mom like she’d been deeply wronged. “I don’t want to make things hard for you. If someone has to leave… then I’ll go.”

The wheels of the suitcase scraped loudly across the floor as Vanessa dragged it straight toward the front door.

“Wait.” Helen called out, but it didn’t slow her down at all.

I could see the tension rising on my mom’s face. She turned to me. “I know Nessa’s temper. She said some harsh things, but she didn’t mean them like that. How about this—you go home first. I’ll talk to her and explain things.”

“Mom! This really was an accident. I—”

“I know, I know. We’ll talk later.”

Before I could say another word, Helen hurried off.

Watching her rush after Vanessa, that familiar wave of disappointment crept back in. On the surface, it looked like Mom had trusted me this time.

But in reality…

“Miss Rosalie, I’ll have the driver take you back,” Mrs. Moss said from above me.

I looked up. Her face was completely blank. Not a hint of guilt anywhere.

“No need,” I said. “I’ll grab a cab.”

She obviously wanted me gone, and honestly, I didn’t want to stay here staring at her face either.

By the time I got back to Lucian’s apartment, it was already seven in the evening, and he was home.

In the living room, he was taking an antique gramophone out of a crate.

I walked over carefully, unsure how to start a conversation. Somehow, things between us felt even more awkward than between strangers.

He glanced at me once, then continued setting up the gramophone.

“Since you agreed to marry into this family, you’ll follow our rules. I don’t like people who can’t control their emotions. Before you meet my grandparents, get that injury healed. I don’t want them worrying.”

I had no idea where he’d heard that ridiculous rumor. I raised my bandaged hand slightly.

“This was an accident.”

“It better be.” he replied flatly.

At that moment, a maid came over and said dinner was ready, inviting us to the dining room.

Under the crystal chandelier, Lucian sat at the head of the table. I chose the seat beside him.

He paused for a second, like my sitting there felt a little off, but he didn’t say anything.

I normally used my right hand for everything, but now that it was injured, I had to switch to my left. Eating suddenly became a struggle. It took several tries just to stab a piece of food with the fork.

Mrs. Ford, the housekeeper, noticed immediately and walked over with a gentle smile. “Please, allow me.”

She took the plate in front of me away. When she came back, she’d replaced it with a bowl instead. The meat had already been cut into bite-sized pieces, and she placed a spoon beside it.

I was honestly stunned by how thoughtful she was. I’d never received this kind of care even when I was living at the Whitmore house.

“Thank you,” I said quickly.

“You’are welcome,” she replied warmly. Then she gestured toward a dish in front of me. “We heard you’re very health-conscious, Miss. The chef prepared this zucchini noodle dish for you—low calorie, but still filling.”

Only then did I realize something.

All the information they had about “me”—including Lucian—actually came from Vanessa.

She was the one always going on about dieting, and zucchini was one of her favorite things.

“Thank you, but I don’t like zucchini,” I said.

Mrs. Ford immediately removed the dish from the table without hesitation.

Dinner passed quietly.

Once Lucian finished eating, he set down his napkin and headed upstairs.

I went back to my room to sort through the things that had been moved in today. Inside the apartment there was a private elevator, and out of habit I pressed the button for the second floor.

When the doors opened, I suddenly remembered what Zack had said—this entire floor belonged to Lucian.

I quickly pressed the close button.

Then Lucian’s deep voice came from behind me.

“Come out.”