Niklaus’ POV

I practically flew out of Melanie's house and into my car, my mind a whirlwind of frustration and determination. I needed to see Rosalyn. I had to explain everything to her. My foot pressed harder on the gas pedal as I weaved through traffic, ignoring the blaring horns and angry glares. The only thought anchoring me was her face—her understanding smile. She had to understand. She always did.

But the moment I stepped into my family's house, my phone vibrated. My heart sank when I saw her name flash on the screen. Rosalyn. A message. Quickly, I opened it.

[You’ve really proven it’s always going to be Melanie. Go for her then. Goodbye.]

What the heck is she talking about? My hands shook as I read it over and over again. This had to be a mistake. I hit the call button, praying she'd pick up, but the line rang endlessly. No answer.

"Rosalyn, pick up, please," I muttered under my breath, but my pleas went unanswered. My frustration boiled over, and I stormed into the living room.

Hayden stood there, his face taut with controlled anger. My family sat around him, their expressions varying from concern to disappointment.

“Why, Niklaus? Did you have to hurt Rosalyn like this, especially today?” Hayden’s voice was sharp, bordering on a yell.

“It wasn’t my intention!” I snapped back. “It was Melanie—she needed help!”

Cherry stepped forward, her eyes soft with concern. “Is she alright?”

“She almost…” I hesitated, running a hand through my hair. “She almost committed suicide out of depression. Thank God I came quickly after seeing her message.”

“Oh my. Is she doing fine now?” my mother asked, her voice trembling with worry.

“Yes,” I replied, exhaling deeply. “I calmed her down and stayed until her father arrived.”

“That’s good,” she murmured.

“Wow, you did great,” Hayden said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he clapped slowly. “Now, what about Rosalyn? Will you be able to ease her pain like you did Melanie’s?”

“Hayden!”

He ignored my warning tone, cutting me off with more venom. “Tell me, Niklaus. Do you think Rosalyn deserves to be sidelined like this? Do you think she feels any less hurt just because your intentions were good?”

“I’m sure she’ll understand!” I barked, my patience fraying. “Rosalyn’s not inconsiderate—”

“Then why isn’t she answering your calls?” Hayden’s words were like a slap to the face.

My fingers moved instinctively, dialing her number again. The room fell silent as the ringing echoed, unanswered. My jaw clenched. “What’s her problem?” I muttered under my breath.

“Her problem is you,” Hayden shot back. “You always put Melanie first. And now, maybe she’s realized she’s had enough.”

“Hayden, stop it!” My mother’s voice rose, sharp and commanding. “You have no right to lecture my son!”

“I’m just letting him know he’s wrong, Mrs. McDonald,” Hayden replied, his tone defiant.

“You won’t tell my son what to do. You’re just a nobody, Hayden.”

I glanced at my mother in displeasure. Her disdain for Hayden had always been evident. To her, his family status didn’t match ours, and that was unforgivable. But I didn’t have the energy to care about her biases right now. All I could think about was Rosalyn.

I had done the right thing. I had helped Melanie. Rosalyn should be proud of me, not angry. Melanie had saved my father’s life once, and I owed it to her late mother to always be there for her.

Seeing my agitation, Cherry touched my arm. “Don’t mind Rosalyn,” she said gently. “She can be a bit upsetting at times.”

Hayden scoffed. “You’d be more upset if this happened to you.” He turned back to me, his gaze piercing. “I’m disappointed in you, Niklaus. Maybe Rosalyn has decided to leave you. Maybe that’s why you can’t reach her.”

His words were a dagger to my chest. What if he was right? What if she’d left me?

“No!” I yelled, the thought unbearable. “She can’t leave me!”

Ignoring my mother’s calls, I dashed out of the house, jumped into my car, and sped toward mine. The tires screeched as I pulled into the driveway, my heart pounding.

“Rosalyn!” I called as I stepped inside, my voice echoing slightly in the silence. No response.

I checked the living room. Empty. The kitchen. Empty. The guest room. Still no sign of her. My pulse quickened as I bounded up the stairs, taking two at a time, and burst into my bedroom.

“Rosalyn?” I called again, but the silence was deafening.

My eyes scanned the room, and something on the coffee table caught my attention. Slowly, I approached it, my breath hitching when I realized what it was—the engagement ring I had given her five years ago.

I grabbed it, my chest tightening. “No,” I whispered, clutching it tightly.

I rushed to her room, but something felt off the moment I stepped in. Her scent lingered, faint but present. “Rosalyn?” I called, my voice cracking. I checked the bathroom. Empty.

Then my eyes landed on the closet. Dread pooled in my stomach as I walked to it and flung the doors open. Empty. Her clothes were gone.

“No,” I whispered, my voice trembling. Panic set in as I bolted out of the house and ran to the security post.

“Where is she?” I demanded, my tone sharp.

“Sir?” The man looked startled.

“Rosalyn! Where did she go?”

“She left about an hour ago,” he replied hesitantly.

I glared at him, anger boiling over. “And you just let her go? Did she tell you where she was going?”

“No, sir,” he stammered.

His words were a punch to the gut. She was gone. My mind raced as I climbed back into my car, gripping the steering wheel tightly. I tried tracking her phone, but it was turned off.

“Damn it!” I shouted, slamming my fist against the dashboard.

I groaned in frustration, the weight of my actions crashing down on me. She couldn’t leave me. She wouldn’t leave me.

Grabbing my phone, I dialed Jeff, my personal detective. The line barely rang before he answered.

“Hello, sir…”

"I want you to find Rosalyn ASAP. She left and I'm unable to reach her.”

"But…"

“Find her,” I ordered, my voice low and menacing. “I don’t care what it takes. Find her!”

Rosalyn's POV

Sliding the key into the lock, I hesitated for a brief moment before pushing the door open. My apartment, untouched for a year since I moved into Niklaus' house, greeted me with an unsettling familiarity. The furniture stood where I had left it—dusty and lifeless. The faint scent of lavender from the potpourri I once adored lingered, though now dulled by time.

I dropped my box just by the door and flipped the light switch. The soft glow illuminated the space, casting shadows that felt more like ghosts of my former self. Setting my bag on the couch, I began rearranging the disarray. Pillows were fluffed, the coffee table wiped clean with a cloth I found tucked in a drawer, and my box unpacked halfway. I was busying myself with these mundane tasks when the sound of the door creaking open startled me.

“Rosalyn?”

I turned toward the doorway, forcing a weak smile as I saw who it was. “Hi, Abby,” I said, waving at my best friend.

“Rosalyn!” she exclaimed, rushing toward me and pulling me into a tight hug. Her excitement was palpable, her arms wrapping around me like a lifeline.

“When did you return to the city?” I asked, surprised. Abby had been living in the UK for a year, and I hadn’t expected to see her so soon.

“I landed a couple of hours ago,” she explained, pulling back to look at me. “I was unpacking in my apartment when I heard your door opening. I thought it might be an invader.”

“An invader? No, just me.” I forced a chuckle that felt foreign even to myself.

Her smile wavered, guilt flickering in her eyes. “Today was your wedding. I was supposed to attend, but I couldn’t. When I arrived, I heard the wedding was canceled. I tried calling you, but…”

I held up my phone and shook it slightly. “Switched it off.”

Abby frowned, her concern deepening. “What happened? Why did Niklaus cancel the wedding?”

“It’s nothing,” I lied, pausing to steady my voice as emotion threatened to crack it. “Just…things.”

She tilted her head, her gaze unwavering. “Rumors are flying that it’s because of a woman he adores. Is it true?”

I nodded stiffly, unable to meet her eyes. She gasped softly, pulling me into another embrace. “Rosalyn,” she murmured, her voice heavy with empathy. I held back my tears, biting my lip to keep my composure.

“I’m fine, Abby. Don’t worry,” I lied again, my voice barely above a whisper.

She pulled back, her face twisting in anger. “How dare he? After everything?”

I shrugged helplessly. “Please, just let me rest now.”

Reluctantly, Abby nodded. She placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I’ll leave you for now, but we’re not done talking about this. You don’t deserve any of it.” With one last glance, she left the apartment, closing the door softly behind her.

Alone once more, I switched on my phone, hesitating only to turn off my location services. I didn’t want Niklaus to find me. Not now.

A message pinged almost immediately.

“Rosalyn, please, where are you?”

I stared at the text, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. After a moment, I typed back: “I’m somewhere you shouldn’t know.”

Before I could set the phone down, it buzzed in my hand, his name flashing on the screen. The call kept ringing, relentless, until I gave in and answered.

“Rosalyn,” Niklaus breathed, his relief evident. “Thank God. Why did you leave the house?”

“I figured I’ve got no reason to be there,” I replied coldly.

“What do you mean? You’re my soon-to-be wife—”

“Spare me that,” I snapped, cutting him off. “You don’t care about me one bit, Niklaus. That’s why you left me at the altar and ran off to Melanie!”

“No, Rosalyn,” he protested, his voice rising with urgency. “She collapsed. I couldn’t just leave her there. I had to take her to the hospital.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh even to my ears. “When will you realize, Niklaus? She pulls these stunts at the perfect moment to set us apart.”

“Come on,” he groaned. “Don’t start this again. Melanie isn’t a deceiver.”

“Really? Just for one day, you couldn’t prioritize me? She wouldn’t have died if you stayed!”

His tone turned sharp. “Why are you being so inconsiderate? That’s not like you.”

“Is it?” I shot back, anger boiling over.

“Rosalyn,” he began, his voice softening. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—”

“You always run to her when she needs you,” I interrupted, my voice trembling. “But don’t pretend you love me. Your actions show otherwise.”

“No,” he argued. “I’m indebted to Melanie. She saved my father’s life two years ago. If it weren’t for her—”

“Yes, Niklaus, your father is alive. But this isn’t about her. Stop hiding behind your excuses. The truth is, you love her.”

“That’s not fair,” he said quietly. “What are you implying?”

“Tell me,” I demanded, my voice breaking. “Can you look me in the eye and say there’s nothing romantic between you and Melanie, the woman you used to crush on in high school?”

His silence was deafening.

“I thought you’d understand, Rosalyn,” he said finally, his voice laced with disappointment. “But I was wrong.”

“And I thought you’d never break me like this,” I whispered, my heart shattering. “But I was wrong.”

“Rosalyn…” he began, but I didn’t let him finish.

With trembling fingers, I hung up. I'm done with his excuses.

Rosalyn’s POV

The days that followed were quiet, yet my mind was anything but. I didn’t want to talk to Niklaus. I didn’t even want to hear his voice. The moment I saw his name flash across my phone screen the first time, I rejected the call without hesitation. When the calls persisted—morning, afternoon, and night—I silenced my phone and threw it in a drawer.

The next few days passed slowly. I learned from an old colleague that Niklaus was trying to find me, though they didn’t have details. It didn’t surprise me. He had resources, connections that could unravel even the smallest secrets. But for now, I stayed hidden, tucked away in a small apartment on the outskirts of the city. Working from home as a freelance designer for a fashion company, I didn’t need to leave. My apartment became my sanctuary—a place where I could sketch, sew, and escape the chaos that once consumed my life.

Then, one afternoon, while running low on groceries, I ventured out to the nearest supermarket. It was a rare moment when I allowed myself to leave my cocoon. My cart was half-filled when I spotted her.

“Rosalyn!” Mrs. Woods’ voice was warm and familiar, though tinged with surprise.

I froze, caught off guard. Her short, curly hair had turned more silver than I remembered, but her kind eyes hadn’t changed. In the years I’d known her, she had been more than a cook for Niklaus’ family. She’d been a confidante, someone who treated me with respect when no one else in that house had.

“Mrs. Woods,” I said, forcing a smile. “It’s so good to see you.”

She approached me, her hands clasped over her chest like she couldn’t believe I was standing before her. “Good to see me? You disappear without a trace, and that’s what you say?” Her voice was firm, but there was no real anger in it—just concern. “Niklaus has been searching for you like a madman. What were you thinking?”

“It was for the best,” I replied, keeping my tone steady.

Mrs. Woods scoffed and shook her head. “I understand why you left. It’s because of that sly woman, Melanie, isn’t it?” She patted my arm gently, her voice softening. “But leaving without a word? That was wrong, Rosalyn. He came to see his mother just yesterday. He’s worried sick.”

“It’s fine. It’ll pass,” I muttered, trying to deflect.

She studied me for a moment, her expression shifting to something softer. “It’s Cherry’s birthday tomorrow,” she said suddenly. “Do come.”

I stepped back slightly, shaking my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Rosalyn,” she pressed, her tone patient but firm. “You know Niklaus would love to see you. And I would too. It’s been too long.”

“Mrs. Woods, I—”

“No excuses,” she interrupted, her eyes narrowing in that motherly way that left no room for argument. “You’ll come, and that’s final.”

I hesitated, searching her face for some sign that I could refuse. But she wouldn’t budge. With a sigh, I relented. “Fine. I’ll come.”

“Good girl,” she said, patting my cheek. “You won’t regret it.”

The next evening, I stood before the mirror, adjusting the hem of a simple, yet elegant lavender dress. It was understated, something I’d designed myself, but it fit perfectly for the occasion. My hair was swept into a loose bun, with a few strands framing my face.

Abby sat cross-legged on my bed, watching me intently. Her skeptical expression was impossible to miss. “I can’t believe you’re actually going to this party,” she said, her voice dripping with disapproval. “After everything they’ve done to you?”

I sighed, turning to face her. “Cherry isn’t Niklaus.”

Abby raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Cherry’s no good either. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how she treated you. It’s not like she ever really liked you.”

“She’s changed,” I said, though the conviction in my voice felt weaker than I wanted it to.

“Changed?” Abby snorted. “Rosalyn, I know I’ve been away for a year, but I can vouch for the fact that Cherry hasn’t changed. She’s still the same cocky, annoying elder sister of Niklaus. She doesn’t care about you.”

I swallowed hard, turning back to the mirror as I clipped on a pair of earrings. “A lot’s changed about her,” I said quietly, more to myself than to Abby.

“Really?” Abby countered, crossing her arms. “Or is this just another one of Niklaus’ ploys to make it seem like things are different?”

I ignored her, focusing instead on smoothing out an invisible wrinkle in my dress. “Let me just go. This is for Mrs. Woods’ sake, not Cherry’s.”

“Rosalyn…” Abby’s voice was softer now, almost pleading.

“I gave her my word,” I said, meeting her gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

She studied me for a moment, her eyes filled with concern. “You’re too good for this,” she muttered. “Don’t let them drag you back into their holes.”

I smiled faintly, turning to face her. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Abby shook her head, but the look she gave me was a mix of doubt and resignation. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

So did I. As I picked up my clutch and glanced at my reflection one last time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this night would be no different but I hate to acknowledge this, I held on to a glimmer of hope that it would make a difference.