Chapter 50
Chapter 50
ROSALIE
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I woke up to an ache in my legs, a dull reminder of what had happened last night. The sheets felt soft against my skin, but the emptiness beside me was impossible to ignore. Damien was gone.
The events of the night before flooded back in vivid detail–the heat of his touch, the rough urgency of his kisses, and the way he had worshipped me with a hunger I hadn’t expected. My cheeks burned as I remembered how I had moaned his name so shamelessly, clinging to him as if he was the only thing anchoring me to this world.
God, what was wrong with me?
I sat up, gripping the sheets tightly. “Why did I let this happen?” I whispered to myself.
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This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to be thinking about how to leave him, how to end this toxic marriage before it destroyed me completely. Instead, I had let him pull me into his world again, into his arms, his bed–or more accurately, his shower.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the soreness. It wasn’t just my legs. My whole body felt like it had been claimed, marked by him. I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts.
If I stayed in this cycle, I’d never escape.
The idea of getting pregnant crossed my mind, and a cold wave of panic washed over me. A baby would make everything worse. It would tether me to Damien in ways I couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
I stood up, forcing myself to focus. I needed a shower–something to wash away the remnants of last night and clear my head.
After freshening up and putting on a simple dress, I left the bedroom. My plan was to grab a quick breakfast and avoid Damien entirely. But the moment I stepped into the living room, I froze.
The space was a mess–gift boxes of all shapes and sizes were scattered everywhere, some wrapped in shimmering paper, others still being carried in by the servants. There were bouquets of roses, designer bags, jewelry boxes, and what looked like an enormous painting propped against the wall.
“What is this?” I muttered, my eyes darting around the chaos.
The door opened, and Damien strolled in, looking impossibly smug. He was dressed impeccably, his suit tailored to perfection, and that signature smirk of his was firmly in place.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, his voice smooth as silk.
I crossed my arms, glaring at him. “What’s all this?”
“Gifts,” he said simply, as if that explained anything.
“For who?”
“For you, of course.”
My jaw dropped. “What?”
He stepped closer, his smirk widening. “I went out early this morning and got you all of this. Do you like it?”
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Chapter 50
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I stared at him, completely thrown off. “Why would you… Damien, why would you do this?”
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“Because I can,” he said, his tone nonchalant. “And because you deserve it.”
“I don’t want it,” I said firmly, shaking my head.
His smirk faltered slightly. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I said. “I don’t want any of this.”
He took another step closer, his gaze darkening. “Rosalie-”
“No,” I said, cutting him off. “I don’t want gifts, Damien. This isn’t going to fix anything.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “Fix what, exactly?”
I took a deep breath, bracing myself. “This marriage.”
His eyes narrowed. “What about it?”
“It’s not working,” I said, forcing the words out. “We’re not working.”
The smirk returned, but this time it was colder, more calculated. “Care to elaborate?”
I swallowed hard, but I refused to back down. “I want a divorce.”
For a moment, there was silence. His expression didn’t change, but the tension in the room thickened.
“Say that again,” he said, his voice dangerously low.
I squared my shoulders, even though my heart was pounding. “I want a divorce, Damien. This… this isn’t healthy. It’s not good for either of us.”
He took another step forward, and I instinctively backed up. My back hit the edge of the couch, and I realized too late that I had nowhere to go.
“Not good for us?” he repeated, his tone mocking.
“No,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “We’re not compatible. We’re constantly at each other’s throats. It’s not even a year yet, and look at us. Look at how chaotic everything is.”
His hand shot out, gripping my waist and pulling me flush against him. I gasped, my hands instinctively landing on his chest.
“Do you think you can just walk away from me?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft.
“I think it’s what’s best for both of us,” I said, trying to steady my voice,
“For both of us?” He let out a humorless laugh. “Rosalie, do you have any idea all what I’ve done to get you? The years I’ve spent planning, working, making sure you’d be completely mine?”
I stared at him, my heart racing. “Damien, this isn’t love. This is control.”
He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. “Call it whatever you want. But you’re mine, Rosalie. And I don’t let go of
what’s mine.”
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Chapter 50
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I pushed against his chest, trying to create some distance between us. “You can’t force me to stay in this martuge
“Oh, but I can,” he said, his smirk returning. “And I will.”
“Damien-”
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Before I could say anything else, his lips crashed against mine. The kiss was rough, possessive, and filled with a desperdons that took my breath away.
I tried to resist, to push him away, but my body betrayed me. His grip on my waist tightened, and I felt myself melting wo him despite everything.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes burned into mine. “You’re not getting a divorce,” he said firmly. “Not now, not ever. So don’t even think about it.”
Before I could respond, he released me and walked away, leaving me standing there, shaken and breathless.
