Chapter 90
Chapter 90
Third–Person POV
Rosalie’s gaze moved across the room, her heartbeat quickening as she took in the faces surrounding them. Damien’s family was all present–his father, Richard, sitting with a glass of whiskey in hand, his mother, Eleanor, perched elegantly on the grand loveseat, his sisters, Elise and Vivienne, both watching with unreadable expressions. And then there were his uncles, Jacob and Timothy, standing near the fireplace.
But what caught Rosalie off guard–what sent a strange, uneasy feeling creeping into her chest–was the sight of Charlotte, her sister, seated comfortably among them. She was smiling, a soft, knowing smile, as if she belonged there, as if she had been welcomed into Damien’s family in a way that Rosalie never had.
Rosalie’s brows pulled together in confusion. She swallowed before speaking. “What’s going on?”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but in the quiet room, it carried, drawing the attention of everyone present.
Damien’s uncle Jacob was the first to break the silence, grinning as he leaned back in his chair. “Damien, you finally made it. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”
Richard let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. “Honestly, I didn’t think your mother could convince you.”
Eleanor’s lips curved in satisfaction, her posture straightening as though she had won some invisible battle. She looked at Damien expectantly, as if waiting for him to acknowledge her victory.
But he didn’t.
Instead, his expression remained cold, unreadable. His jaw tensed as he spoke. “I didn’t come because of her,” he said bluntly. His tone carried no warmth, no affection. “Rosalie convinced me.”
The smug look on Eleanor’s face vanished instantly. Her expression darkened, her eyes narrowing as she turned her glare toward Rosalie. It was a look Rosalie had grown used to–the kind that told her she wasn’t wanted here, that she was merely tolerated because Damien refused to let go of her.
Rosalie, however, barely registered it. Her focus remained on Charlotte, who hadn’t stopped smiling at her since they walked in. There was something unsettling about it, something that made Rosalie’s stomach churn.
Richard motioned toward the seating area. “Sit down.”
Eleanor nodded stiffly. “Yes, Damien, take a seat.”
There was no mention of Rosalie. Not a single acknowledgment of her presence, as if she didn’t even exist in the room.
Damien’s grip on her hand tightened slightly. He noticed. He always noticed. Without hesitation, he led her toward the chairs, pulling out a seat for her before sitting beside her. If they wanted to pretend she wasn’t there, Damien was going to make sure they remembered.
Silence stretched for a moment before Richard cleared his throat, his deep voice breaking the stillness. “I suppose we all know why we’re here.”
Damien leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping against the armrest in an almost lazy rhythm, but there was nothing relaxed about him. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes–sharp, dark, and cold–swept across the room, taking in the gathered faces of his so–called family.
“Of course we do,” he said flatly, his tone void of patience. “This is just another excuse to insult my marriage.”
Timothy let out a long, drawn–out sigh, shaking his head as though Damien was being unreasonable. “That’s not the way you should see it, Damien”
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Chapter 90
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Elise scoffed, crossing her arms. “But it is the truth.”
Vivienne, sitting beside her, nodded in agreement, tilting her chin up slightly. “We’ve tried to be patient, but Rosalie just doesn’t fit into this family. She never has.”
Damien exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “There it is.”
The inevitable. The same argument, the same arrogance. The same belief that they had the right to dictate his life, that they could pick apart his choices and rearrange them to fit their own standards. It was exhausting.
Beside him, Rosalie sat still, her posture composed, her face unreadable. But he knew she was listening. He knew she was absorbing every word, letting them sink in, letting them settle on her shoulders like a weight she had long grown used to carrying.
Jacob leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as his piercing gaze met Damien’s. “She’s not suited for you,” he said matter–of–factly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We all see it. She doesn’t carry herself the way a wife of your status should.”
Eleanor, who had been sitting quietly, finally spoke, her voice laced with disdain. “She’s been nothing but a disappointment.”
Damien’s grip on the chair tightened. His mother’s voice had always been sharp, cutting, but something about the way she said it now–so certain, so dismissive–made his blood boil.
He could feel the anger simmering beneath his skin, clawing its way to the surface.
He was seconds away from snapping.
And then, under the table, Rosalie’s hand slid onto his thigh.
It was barely a touch. Just a light, firm press of her fingers.
But it was enough.
A silent message. A quiet plea.
Calm down.
His jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak.
He inhaled slowly through his nose, forcing the rage back down. Not because they didn’t deserve it. Not because he wasn’t furious. But because Rosalie was here. Because he wouldn’t let them drag him into the kind of anger they wanted from him.
He felt Charlotte’s eyes on him.
She had been sitting quietly until now, watching, waiting. But he caught the slight movement of her fingers curling against the fabric of her dress, the way her expression faltered for just a second.
She had noticed the small exchange between him and Rosalie. She had seen the way Rosalie could steady him with nothing more than a touch. And it made her angry.
Damien could feel it.
And he didn’t care.
His patience was gone.
“If you brought me here just to repeat the same insults you’ve been throwing since I married her,” he said, his voice quiet but edged with ice, “I’m leaving.”
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Tue, 18 Feb
Chapter 90
A thick silence followed.
Then, Jacob leaned forward slightly, his fingers lacing together. “That’s not all we called you here for.”
Damien’s gaze sharpened. “Then get to the point.”
There was a pause. A brief hesitation.
Then, Jacob finally spoke.
“You need to divorce Rosalie. And marry Charlotte.”
The words hit like a gunshot.
Rosalie inhaled sharply beside him, the sound so quiet, so small, but Damien heard it.
His entire body went still.
For a long moment, the room was deathly silent. No one moved. No one breathed.
Damien blinked once, slowly, his mind registering the words, processing them.
Then, something inside him snapped.
A sharp, humorless laugh left his lips–short, bitter, filled with disbelief.
They had lost their minds.
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He dragged his gaze across the room, his fingers curling into tight fists. His mother, sitting there as though this was perfectly reasonable. His father, calm as ever, sipping his damn whiskey like this was a casual conversation. His uncles, looking at him like this was a solution.
And Charlotte.
Sitting there, silent, expectant.
Like she had been waiting for this.
Like she had known.
His chest tightened with something dark, something furious.
They actually thought they could decide this for him.
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AD
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