Chapter 31
Chapter 31
ROSALIE
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I woke up with the first light of dawn, my body aching and my mind in turmoil. My eyes burned from crying through the night, but it wasn’t just the tears. It was the humiliation, the anger, and the betrayal that made my chest feel like it might explode. I couldn’t get the memory of Damien out of my head–how he had used me over and over again, ignoring my pleas, my protests, everything
My skin crawled as I remembered his hands positioning me, controlling me, making me feel things I didn’t want to feel. The way he brought my body to life, despite my hatred, made me feel sick to my stomach. Even now, I could still feel the soreness between my thighs, a cruel reminder of what had happened.
I sat up in bed, wrapping the blanket tightly around myself, as if it could shield me from the overwhelming shame. Tears streamed down my face again, and I pressed my hands to my cheeks, trying to hold in a sob.
“How could he do this to me?” I whispered to the empty room. “How could my own body betray me like that?”
It wasn’t just what Damien had done–it was how he had broken me. My hatred for him felt renewed, sharper than ever.
I
I didn’t want to stay in bed any longer. The sheets smelled faintly of him, and it made me sick. Forcing myself to move, dragged my sore body into the bathroom. The cold tiles beneath my feet grounded me, but the mirror was cruel, reflecting my tear–streaked face and swollen eyes.
“Get it together, Rosalie,” I muttered to myself.
I turned on the shower and stepped under the hot spray, letting the water scald my skin as if it could wash away the memories. I scrubbed harder than I needed to, my nails biting into my skin, trying to erase the feel of him.
When I was done, I wrapped myself in a towel and dressed quickly in the simplest clothes I could find. I didn’t want to put any thought into my appearance, didn’t want to care. I just needed to get out of that room.
I headed downstairs, the ache in my body and soreness I felt with every step a painful reminder of what he’d done. My stomach churned, but I ignored it. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard movement in the kitchen and a voice calling
-out to me.
“Good morning, Mrs Hale, one of the maids, greeted me with a warm smile, “Breakfast will be ready shortly. Would you like some tea while you wait?”
I shook my head, not trusting my voice. I didn’t want tea. I didn’t want food. I didn’t want anything except to erase the past. twelve hours from my memory.
“Mrs Hale, are you feeling okay?” the maid asked, concern creeping into her voice.
“I’m fine.” I said sharply, then immediately regretted my tone. “I mean.. I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Of course,” she said gently, backing off.
I walked toward the dining room, wanting to be alone. But as I approached the table, my heart sank. Sitting in the center was a bouquet of roses–blood–red and mocking. Next to it was a note, the familiar bold handwriting making my stomach twist.
I didn’t want to read it, but my feet carried me closer anyway. My hands trembled as I picked it up.
“Rosalie,
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Chapter 31
I hated leaving you this morning, but duty calls. I’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ll be thinking of you every second until then. Last night was… unforgettable. I miss you already.
Yours, Damien.”
The audacity of him. My hands clenched around the note, crumpling the paper as my blood boiled. How dare he act as if what he’d done was romantic? As if it had been mutual?
“Unforgettable?” I said aloud, my voice dripping with venom. “I’ll give you unforgettable.”
I grabbed the roses and threw them on the floor, my chest heaving with rage. The note followed, and I reached for the lighter we used for the candles. Without a second thought, I lit the corner of the paper and watched as the flames consumed
- it.
The ashes fell onto the roses, blackening the petals, and I felt a grim sense of satisfaction.
I didn’t wait for breakfast. I stormed out of the dining room, my heart pounding as anger and humiliation warred inside me.
By late afternoon, I couldn’t take the silence of the house any longer. I needed an escape, someone to talk to. My parents” house was only a short drive away. I needed someone–anyone–to understand what I was going through.
The familiar sight of their house brought a strange sense of both dread and comfort. I hadn’t visited in weeks, not since Damien had started controlling every little aspect of my life. The neatly trimmed hedges, the polished front door- everything looked the same, but I felt like a stranger approaching it.
I knocked and waited, anxiety twisting my stomach.
“Rosalie?,” my mum said the moment she opened the door, her voice measured but calm. “Come in. What a surprise”
I stepped inside, hesitating for a moment before I followed her to the living room. My father’s voice called out from the other room.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Rosalie,” my mother replied.
Moments later, my father entered the room, his expression already laced with irritation. His eyes met mine, and he crossed
his arms.
“Well,” he said, his tone sharp. “This is unexpected. What brings you here? Trouble with Damien?”
1 bristled at his tone, but I forced myself to stay calm. “I came to talk to you. Both of you.”
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, motioning for me to continue. My mother sat down on the armrest of the couch, her hands clasped in her lap, waiting.
I took a deep breath. “I want a divorce.”
The room went still. My mother’s brows furrowed, and she exchanged a quick glance with my father, who let out a harsh laugh.
“A divorce?” he said, shaking his head. “What kind of nonsense are you talking about?”
“It’s not nonsense,” I said firmly, though my voice wavered. “I can’t stay with Damien anymore
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Chapter 31
My mother leaned forward slightly, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You can’t obviously be serious Rosalie?”
I hesitated, my hands twisting in my lap. “Damien is controlling. He’s cruel. He doesn’t treat me like a person–he treats me like I’m just something he owns.
My father scoffed loudly. “Cruel? Controlling? That man gave you everything. A home, security, a future. What more do you want?”
“I want respect!” I snapped. “I want freedom! He doesn’t love me, Dad. He doesn’t even see me as a person–just as something to use.”
-Use?” my father repeated, his voice rising. “You’re being dramatic. Damien’s a man with expectations, sure, but he’s done nothing but care for you! He saved our company. You should be grateful.”
“Grateful?” I repeated, anger surging, “You think I should be grateful for being treated like a prisoner because your damn company was secured? For being humiliated and hurt?”
My mother sighed deeply, her tone more dismissive than comforting. “Rosalie, marriage isn’t easy. It takes work. Maybe you just need to try harder to meet him halfway.”
My heart sank at her words. “This isn’t something I can fix by “trying harder, Mom. You don’t understand what it’s like to live with him.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” she said, leaning back slightly. “But I know you made vows, and walking away because things get hard isn’t the answer.”
I turned back to my father, desperate for some kind of understanding. “He’s hurting me, Dad. He’s breaking me, and I can’t take it anymore.
But his expression only grew harder. “Hurting you? You’re just looking for excuses to justify your failure. Damien is a good man, Rosalie. If this marriage is falling apart, it’s because of you and your selfishness.”
My anger boiled over. “Selfishness? You have no idea what he’s done to me! You’re too blind to see it because all you care about is your stupid image!”
My father’s face turned red, and his voice thundered through the room. “Watch your mouth, young lady! Don’t you dare
talk to me like that!”
“Why not?” I shouted back, tears stinging my eyes. “It’s the truth! You’ve never cared about me–only about how I make you look!
“Stop it!” my mother interjected, her voice sharp but weary. “Both of you, just stop. Rosalie, you can’t come here and expect us to turn on Damien because you’ve decided you’re unhappy.”
“This isn’t about being unhappy!” I cried, my voice breaking. “This is about surviving! I’m dying in that house, and neither of you even care!”
“Enough!” my father roared, stepping closer. “You’re my daughter, and I love you, but I will not listen to you destroy the name of a good man because you’re too immature to handle your responsibilities.”
“Responsibilities?” I spat, glaring at him. “You mean letting him treat me like I’m nothing? Is that what you think being a good wife is? Letting someone destroy you?”
“Rosalie, stop,” my mother said again, though her voice lacked any real conviction.
But I couldn’t stop. Not now. “You’re a selfish, good–for–nothing father,” I hissed, my voice trembling with anger
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Chapter 31
The slap came so fast I didn’t even see it coming. The sting spread across my cheek, hot and humiliating, I stumbled back, clutching my face as tears spilled down my cheeks.
“What are you doing?” My mother cried at my father. “You shouldn’t have hit her”
“She needs to learn some respect,” he said coldly, his hand still raised as if daring me to challenge him again.
I stared at him, my chest heaving with a mix of rage and heartbreak. “You’re not a father,” I said quietly, my voice shaking “You’re a coward. A selfish, heartless coward”
“Get out of my house,” he said, his voice low and final.
I didn’t wait for another word. I turned and walked toward the door, my legs shaking beneath me. My mother called after me, but her voice was faint, distant.
The moment I stepped outside, I gasped for air, the cool breeze biting against my skin. My face throbbed, my heart ached. and I felt more alone than ever.
As I slid into the car and drove away, the tears came harder, blurring my vision. I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have thought they would understand.
T’ll never come back,” I whispered to myself, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Never
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