Luke's expression shifted instantly. Over the years, Rosalie first addressed him as "Mr. Williams," like everyone else, but later tried calling him "Luke"—and he sharply corrected her each time.

Now, she'd finally found the right way to address him.

From now on, he'd only ever be "Uncle Luke."

Without another glance at either of them, Rosalie turned and walked away, her body feeling unwell from the heavy perfume scent lingering around her. When she exited the car, dizziness swept over her, and her steps felt unsteady.

The butler, noticing her pale face and the perfume bottle in her hand, immediately looked alarmed. "Quick, take that perfume away from Miss Rosalie! If Mr. Williams finds out, there'll be trouble."

Hearing this, Rosalie felt only a deep sadness. With a single decision, the same man who had once doted on her without reserve could plunge her into despair.

The allergic reaction drained her, and she passed out, sleeping heavily until late that night. She awoke groggily to find Luke in her room, his presence unmistakable.

He had moved his bedroom to another floor long ago to keep his distance from her, and he rarely entered her room. Tonight, he burst in with a sharp energy that made her wonder if she was dreaming.

His next words jolted her to full consciousness. "Why did you throw away the gift Fiona gave you? What are you trying to pull? Do you know how hurt she was when she saw it?"

Rosalie forced herself to sit up, her voice steady despite her weariness. "I didn't throw it away."

Without warning, Luke tossed a bag onto her bed, and the perfume bottle tumbled out, shattering on the floor.

The scent spread quickly, filling the room and choking her with intensity. Rosalie began to cough violently, her face flushing as her body reacted.

Alarmed, the butler rushed to call the doctor. "Sir, I threw out the perfume! Isn't it your rule that no perfume is allowed in the house? Miss Rosalie has a severe allergy!"

Only then did Luke seem to realize the severity of the situation, remembering the first time Rosalie had experienced an allergic reaction years ago.

He was completely unprepared for her distress at the time. However, he showed her careful attention, which made her feel truly cherished.

The Luke of the past had nurtured Rosalie, raising her with care and kindness.

But the Luke of today was only hurting the person he'd once protected.

The butler remembered. Everyone in the house remembered.

Only Luke seemed to have forgotten.

Once Rosalie's condition stabilized, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"Miss Rosalie is awake now," the butler said softly. "Sir, maybe you should check on her."

Just as Luke took a step toward her door, his phone rang. He paused, then answered the call, listening for a moment before glancing back toward Rosalie.

"Take good care of her," he said shortly to the butler. "I have something else I need to handle."

From her bed, Rosalie watched it all. Once, seeing him leave like that would have devastated her.

Now, all she felt was numbness. It was a good thing she had decided to move on.

The butler came in, looking to say something, but he hesitated.

In the end, he simply managed, "Please don't worry. You'll be fine."

Rosalie offered him a reassuring smile. "I know. Thank you.”

She was grateful she'd chosen to let go before it was too late. The butler lingered with a few quiet reminders before finally stepping out.

Rosalie lay back and looked out at the dark sky. Another day had passed.

In the following days, she quietly focused on her recovery, going through the few things she'd accumulated in the house.

Ten years had left countless reminders of her life there, each item tied to a memory she'd once shared with Luke.

But now it was time to let those memories go.

It was time for them both to begin new lives.

Rosalie gathered all her clothes and stuffed animals over the years, carefully packing each item to donate.

Luke had once dedicated an entire floor as her wardrobe, saying that the memories of growing up should be cherished and preserved.

Now, as she sorted through each piece of clothing and the gifts he'd given her year after year, she realized the past hadn't been a lie—only that people change.

By the time she finished, she had filled an entire truck with her old belongings.

The volunteer collecting the donations handed her a small souvenir, saying, "Thanks for contributing to charity."

Rosalie offered a small smile. She didn't feel like she'd done anything remarkable. From her first year in Florida, Luke had set up a charity foundation in her name, and she often visited orphanages, feeling a special kinship with the children there.

Luke's generosity had once made her feel safe and cared for. But now, she understood that the only person she could truly rely on was herself.

Just as the truck was pulling away, Luke pulled up and noticed the full load of boxes.

"What's all this?" he asked.

Rosalie looked at him from the doorway, her voice casual. "Just things I don't need anymore. Doing a little clearing out."

He looked mildly suspicious but didn't press further. "Well, with the engagement party coming up, it's time to replace old things with new."

His eyes stayed on his phone, barely glancing her way.

Just before he drove off, he lowered his window and reminded her, "Tomorrow's Fiona's art exhibition. The perfume incident was partly your fault, so you should use the opportunity to apologize to your aunt."

Rosalie nodded indifferently, and her calmness seemed to surprise him. He'd expected her to argue or defend herself, but her quiet agreement caught him off guard.

"You're growing up, Rosalie. It's time to be sensible. You'll live with Fiona soon, so learn to get along."

Watching him drive away, Rosalie thought he wouldn't have to deal with her much longer.

Old things were being replaced, and old faces were also moving on.

The next day, Rosalie returned to her school to organize her graduation materials. All that was left was to retrieve the original of her graduation project.

But when she arrived at her teacher's office, she was told her project had already been picked up.

"It was someone claiming to be Luke Williams. Didn't you know?"

This puzzled her.

Luke had rarely been involved in her school life. He hadn't even attended her graduation ceremony.

Why would he take her graduation project?

She remembered his comment about the art exhibition and felt a surge of unease.

When Rosalie arrived at the exhibition, it was already in full swing. The venue was buzzing with people and surrounded by luxury cars.

Backed by Luke's connections, Fiona's event was turning out to be a grand success. Ignoring the glitz, Rosalie went inside, determined to find answers.

She spotted Luke standing near Fiona, introducing her to an influential group of guests.

With a wry smile, one of the guests commented, "Mr. Williams, you're quite lucky. We thought you’d keep that Rosalie girl by your side forever."

Luke responded with a polite but distant smile. “You're joking. Rosalie's just a child I raised."

Rosalie had expected to hear something along these lines, but seeing him and Fiona together, looking like a perfectly matched couple stirred a raw, lingering pain that cut through her attempts to remain numb.

Taking a breath, she stepped forward and asked, "Where is my painting?"

Surrounded by business associates, Luke looked irritated as Rosalie hurried over, her face flushed with urgency.

"What painting?" he asked curtly.

"My graduation project," she replied, her voice strained. "My teacher said you picked it up."

Luke's expression hardened, clearly unimpressed by what he saw as her childishness. "Do you even realize what today is? I don't have time to deal with your trivial painting."

He dismissed her with a wave. "If you think I took it, go find it yourself."

Determined, Rosalie scoured the entire exhibition, her anxiety mounting as she failed to find her work. Just as she was about to give up, something caught her eye at the entrance.

Near the guest sign-in area was her painting—her graduation project, almost unrecognizable, covered in signatures and scribbles.

In shock, she approached the canvas, her heart sinking as she took in the mess of black ink obscuring the vibrant red roses and blue sky she'd painstakingly painted. That piece had meant everything to her, and now it was defaced beyond recognition.

Almost desperate, Rosalie pushed through the crowd, clutching the painting to shield it from further harm.

Chaos erupted, and Luke quickly strode over, his face tight with frustration. "What are you doing?" he hissed. "This is your aunt's art exhibition. Must you cause a scene and embarrass everyone?"

Rosalie's gaze was fierce as she held his stare.

"Why is my painting here?" she demanded.

Luke brushed her off. "It's just a painting. If it's that important to you, I can replace it. Stop being so dramatic."

Staring at him, tears pricked at her eyes. "And what exactly will you replace it with, Luke?"

She had let go of nearly everything—her belongings, her dignity.

Did she really have to stand by and watch as her most treasured creation, the only thing born from her heart and soul, was reduced to a mere object?

But Luke simply shook his head, exasperated. "You're being completely unreasonable, Rosalie."

This painting was her graduation project, the result of sleepless nights, ten years of effort, and the gift she intended for Luke himself.

Her sincerity lay desecrated, the last bit of pride she'd tried so hard to hold on to.

Fiona hurried over, her expression contrite as she explained, "I'm so sorry, Rosalie. It was a mistake. I arranged for your project to be brought here, thinking everyone would appreciate it. I never expected people to be so careless and ruin it."

Fiona clung to Luke's arm, her face soft with remorse. Luke turned his attention to comforting her. "This isn't your fault, Fiona. Rosalie doesn't know her place—her painting didn't belong here in the first place."

Each word stabbed at Rosalie's heart like a knife.

Without hesitation, Luke instructed Rosalie to remain confined to the house, forbidding her to step outside and further embarrass him.

This time, he blocked every means of contact, determined to teach her a lesson.

But Rosalie was beyond lessons. She was done.

Shortly after, she received news that her application to return home had been approved sooner than expected—coincidentally, on the day of Luke's engagement party.

She knew she wouldn't have a chance to say goodbye in person, but the truth was, she no longer wanted to.

The butler was the only person aware of her departure.

When the time came, Rosalie gave him a warm embrace, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Please, take care of yourself," she whispered.

The butler's eyes shone with unshed tears. "Miss Rosalie, you're destined for a bright future."

As Luke's engagement party reached its peak, filled with laughter and clinking glasses, Rosalie was already on a plane, flying home.

Back at the party, as the energy reached a crescendo, Luke took the microphone, ready to make the announcement that would seal his future.

In the quiet of his study, Luke found an envelope he hadn't noticed before.