Chapter 32
Chapter 32
ROSALIE
NEXT DAY
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The book in my hands was one I’d read countless times before. Its pages were familiar, the words etched in my memory, but that didn’t stop me from trying to lose myself in its story again. Reading was my only escape, my only way to keep the noise of my mind at bay. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, the words on the page blurred, replaced by images from yesterday–my father’s rage, the sting of his hand against my cheek, the crushing disappointment in his eyes.
I touched my cheek lightly, wincing at the tenderness. It was more than just the physical pain that lingered. It was the humiliation, the heartbreak. He hadn’t even tried to understand me, not for a second.
The knock at my door startled me, pulling me from the depths of my thoughts. I stared at the door, hoping whoever it was would just go away.
“Mrs Rosalie,” came the hesitant voice of one of the maids. “Mr. Hale is home and requests your presence downstairs.”
My stomach dropped. Damien was back. So much for hoping I’d have more time before facing him.
I didn’t answer. Maybe if I stayed quiet, she’d assume I was asleep and leave ΠΕ alone.
“Mrs?” the maid called again, this time a little louder. “He specifically asked for you. Should I let him know you’re unavailable?”
I sighed, closing the book and setting it on the bed. I wanted to say yes, to tell her to leave me be, but I knew Damien wouldn’t take no for an answer. “I’ll be down in a minute,” I said reluctantly.
The sound of her footsteps retreating gave me a brief moment of relief. I sat there, staring at the door, debating whether 1 could just pretend to be sick or refuse altogether. But deep down. I knew Damien. If I didn’t go willingly, he’d come up here himself, and I wasn’t ready for another confrontation so soon after yesterday.
Finally, I stood, brushing my hands over my wrinkled clothes and running a hand through my hair. I glanced at myself in the mirror. The red mark on my cheek from the slap stood out like a beacon, and my eyes were still puffy from crying
Taking a deep breath, I headed downstairs, each step feeling heavier than the last
The moment I reached the living room, my eyes widened. Lavish gifts were spread across the room, an overwhelming display of wealth. Hoxes wrapped in luxurious paper, ribbons in perfect bows, and bags with designer names I couldn’t even pronounce. It was like stepping into a high–end boutique,
1 froze, my hands curling into fists at my sides. Of course, this was Damien’s way of “fixing” things–throwing money at me like it could buy forgiveness, like it could erase everything that had happened.
“Mrs Rosalie, isn’t it beautiful?” the maid said, smiling nervously as if she wasn’t sure how I’d react
“What is all this?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
Before she could answer, a voice from behind me made my skin prickle. “Do you like them!”
I turned slowly, and there he was. Dammen stood there, his hands in his pockets, a smug simile playing on his lips. He lookest perfectly at ease, like he didn’t have a care in the world, while I felt like my chest was caving in.
“No,” I said flatly, crossing my arms. “I don’t like them. Why would you even think this was necessary?”
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Chapter 32
His smile faltered, but only for a second. “I thought you’d appreciate a little gesture,” he said, shrugging. “Something to show you I was thinking of you while I was away.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Thinking of me? Damien, these are gifts for yourself. They’re meaningless.”
“Meaningless?” he repeated, his tone turning sharp. “These are the best money can buy, Rosalie. Most people would be grateful-”
“I’m not most people,” I cut in. “I don’t want them. Take them back.”
His jaw clenched, and he stepped closer. “Why do you always have to make everything so difficult?”
“Because I don’t want your bribes!” I shot back, my voice rising. “You can’t just throw money at me and expect me to forget everything!”
He stopped in front of me, towering over me with an intensity that sent a chill down my spine. “You think this is a bribe?”
“What else would it be?” I challenged, meeting his gaze even though my voice trembled.
For a moment, the air between us crackled with tension. Then his eyes shifted, narrowing as they fixed on my check. His expression changed instantly, his anger replaced with something I couldn’t quite place.
“What happened to your face?” he asked, his voice low and controlled.
I instinctively y touched my cheek, my stomach twisting. “It’s nothing,” I said quickly, stepping back.
“Nothing?” he repeated, his tone icy. He moved faster than I could react, gently grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand away. His gaze darkened as he examined the faint mark. “That doesn’t look like nothinng, Rosalie. Who did this?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, trying to pull away, but his grip only tightened.
“It does matter,” he said firmly, his voice like steel. “Tell me who touched you. And don’t fucking lie to me!”
I stood silent, unsure of if I should reveal the truth.
“I don’t want to repeat myself Rosebud. Tell me who had the guts to hit you.” His tone was threatening.
I hesitated, my heart pounding. Part of me wanted to lie, to brush it off, but his gaze was relentless, and I knew he wouldn’t
let it go.
“It was my father,” I admitted quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.
His entire body tensed, his jaw tightening as his eyes flickered with something dangerous. “Your father?”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “We had an argument. Things got… out of hand.”
Damien let go of my wrist, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He stood there for a moment, silent, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths.
“Damien,” I said cautiously, taking a small step back. “It’s fine. Just leave it alone.”
“Leave it alone?” he said, his voice rising slightly. “He put his hands on you, Rosalie. Do you really think I’m just going to let
that slide?”
“It’s not your problem,” I said, though my voice wavered.
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Chapter 32
He spun to face me, his eyes blazing. “You’re my wife. Anything that happens to you is my problem.”
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I opened my mouth to argue, but he didn’t give me the chance. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I called after him, panic rising in my chest.
To deal with this,” he said over his shoulder, his tone f
final.
“Damien, wait!” I shouted, but he was already gone, the door slamming shut behind him.
I stood there, staring at the closed door, my heart pounding. A part of me wanted to chase after him, to stop him, but another part–the part that was still reeling from everything–didn’t have the strength.
I sank onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved, angry, or terrified. Whatever he planned to do, I knew it wasn’t going to end well.
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