[Rose's POV]
I walked out of the hotel.
The sunlight stung my eyes.
I flagged down a taxi.
I gave the driver the address. Then I sank into the back seat.
My phone buzzed.
It was a bank notification.
The number stared back at me.
One million.
Cold and sharp on the screen.
That was the price for last night.
No.
That was the price Alistair Black got for selling me.
I turned off the phone and threw it aside.
I looked out the window.
The cars, the people, the city—none of it mattered to me.
My throat felt tight.
It was anger. It was disgusting. It was hate, with nowhere to go.
For a second last night, I really thought he had come to save me.
My "father."
What a joke.
And that man—James Watson.
The weight of him on top of me.
The feel of his skin on mine.
Just thinking about it made me shake.
But what I hated wasn't just the way he touched me.
I hated my own body more.
Hated how it reacted.
Hated that in the middle of everything, I still felt something.
I bit down on my lip. Hard.
I tasted blood.
The car stopped in front of my house.
I paid the driver and got out.
I took a deep breath before unlocking the door.
Mom was home.
She was on the couch, watching TV.
She turned around when she heard the door.
"Rose? You're back? Why didn't you come home last night?"
She looked worried.
Before I could answer, the TV anchor's voice cut through.
"... Sources confirm that James Watson, heir to the Watson Group, is set to marry Lilith Black, daughter of the Black family. This powerful union will reshape the city's business scene..."
Two large photos flashed on the screen.
One was James.
The same cold, handsome face from last night.
The other was Lilith.
My twin sister.
All the blood in my body turned cold.
So he was the one.
He was the man in the marriage deal.
And I—
I was just the bait.
"Rose? What's wrong?" Mom noticed something.
She stood up. "You look so pale."
My heart was pounding.
I snapped out of it.
I walked over and hugged her from behind.
I buried my face in her shoulder.
Only in her arms could I keep from falling apart.
"Mom," I said, my voice shaking.
"God, you scared me," she said, patting my hand. "What happened?"
"Nothing," I said. My voice was muffled. "I just missed you."
That was a lie.
"Last night… my classmates threw a graduation party. I drank too much. My phone died. I stayed at a friend's place."
I could feel her eyes on me.
I didn't dare look up.
"Don't do that again. I worried all night," she said.
"I won't."
She pulled me down to sit beside her.
She looked at my face.
"You look awful. Go eat something and take a nap."
I looked at her. Then I said,
"Mom, let's move."
"Move? Why? What's wrong with this place?"
"I don't want to live here anymore," I said firmly. "I just got a job at PwC accounting firm. The pay is good. We can afford somewhere better. Downtown. Safe. Close to the office."
She looked at me. I didn't look away.
She hesitated. Then she nodded.
"Alright. Whatever you say."
I told her I was tired and went into my room.
I locked the door.
That dress—
I tore it to pieces.
I threw the shreds into the trash.
I ran into the bathroom.
I turned the shower on full blast.
Hot water slammed down on me.
I scratched my skin with my nails.
My neck. My collarbone.
The bruises were still there.
I scrubbed again and again until my skin turned red.
I wanted his scent gone.
His touch is gone.
Everything he left with me—gone.
But it didn't work.
The images kept replaying in my head.
Clearer each time.
After the shower, I threw myself on the bed.
I pulled the blanket over my head.
Still couldn't sleep.
Run?
Where could I run?
As long as Alistair Black existed—
As long as James Watson was out there—
I would never be free.
But I couldn't just leave.
What about Mom?
I just graduated from Stanford.
I am starting work next week.
My life was just beginning.
I couldn't let it all end here.
After a long time, I reached out from under the blanket and grabbed my phone.
I stared at the ceiling.
My eyes turned cold.
If I couldn't run, then I had to face it.
I opened my browser.
I typed the name, letter by letter:
James Watson.
Fine.
You want to marry my sister?
You slept with me by mistake, and now you want to pretend it didn't happen?
Let's see what kind of man you really are.
Let's see what happens when the truth comes out.
I'm not Lilith.
I'm Rose.
And I fight back.
Anyone who touches me—will pay.