It was nearly 1:30 a.m. when Charles and Jane returned from their long drive. As they stepped into the house, the silence felt heavy. Jane headed toward Rosie's room — something didn't feel right.
She gently pushed the door open.
Rosie sat at the edge of her bed, her back facing the doorway, her shoulders trembling in the soft glow of her bedside lamp.
"Rosie?" Jane said softly.
No response.
Charles stepped in, concern on his face.
Jane moved closer, kneeling beside her. "Sweetheart, what happened?"
Rosie sniffled. "I… I miss my dad."
Her voice was barely audible. Jane pulled her into an embrace, stroking her hair.
"I know, baby. I know it's hard. But you're safe here. We're here for you."
Rosie leaned in, silently crying. "Even if he hurt us… he's still my dad."
Charles stood near the door, watching the heartbreak spill out in quiet sobs. After a pause, he asked, "Where's Arthur?"
Rosie wiped her face and murmured, "I don't know… haven't seen him all evening."
Charles pulled out his phone and called him.
Arthur answered after a couple of rings. "Yeah?"
"Where are you?" Charles asked.
"Rooftop. Just… looking at the sky."
Charles nodded silently and went up.
Arthur stood there alone, hands in pockets, eyes cast to the stars above. The night breeze tousled his hair as he murmured something quietly to the sky.
"You alright, son?" Charles asked, stepping beside him.
Arthur didn't look at him right away. "Yeah… just thinking."
"About?"
Arthur turned slowly, walked to his dad, and unexpectedly hugged him.
"Thank you," he said in a quiet voice.
Charles was taken aback. "For what?"
Arthur held him a moment longer, then stepped back. "For everything."
He didn't say more. But in Arthur's mind, that "everything" was one thing: Rosie.
Her presence. The way her silence echoed louder than his chaos. The warmth she unknowingly gave him. The calm. The shift.
Charles gave a soft nod, still not fully understanding, but sensing something deeper at play.
The Next Morning
The scent of eggs and toast filled the kitchen. Everyone sat at the table for breakfast, chatting lightly.
Charles looked over at Arthur. "I want you to start working with me. At the firm. Let's build something solid together."
Arthur, mid-sip of coffee, paused. Then shook his head gently. "Not yet. I'm not ready. But soon."
No questions asked. Just a silent agreement.
Rosie quietly finished her breakfast and headed to college.
Later, at College
Rosie barely heard a word in class. Her mind was clouded. By the rooftop. By the hug. By Arthur.
At lunch, she pulled Ava aside.
"I need to talk," she said, setting her bag down.
Ava looked up, sensing the tension. "Okay, spill it."
Rosie hesitated. "There's someone. I think I'm… feeling something."
Ava leaned in. "Ooh. A crush?"
"More like a heart trap," Rosie mumbled. "It's someone I live with."
Ava blinked. "Wait, wait. What? Like a roommate?"
"Kind of," Rosie replied, trying not to reveal too much. "I'm just staying at his place for a while."
Ava raised a brow. "So… what's stopping you?"
Rosie exhaled slowly. "It feels complicated. Like I'm not supposed to feel this way. But when we're near each other… I can't ignore it."
Ava shrugged. "Complicated doesn't mean impossible. You're not hurting anyone. If something's real, maybe it's worth figuring out."
Rosie nodded slowly but stayed quiet, her mind spinning.
Back at the Mansion
As the sun dipped low, Rosie returned home and rang the bell. A staff member opened the gate.
Walking in, she passed Arthur's room — voices, laughter, and music echoed from inside.
She peeked briefly.
Arthur was playing cards with Millie, Harrison, Lucian… and a girl she didn't recognize.
The girl was pretty. Too comfortable beside Arthur.
"Rosie!" Arthur called from the room. "Come join?"
She paused, smiled faintly. "No, I'm okay."
And disappeared into her room.
Later, with a cup of green tea and a novel in hand, she sat on the gallery floor, listening to the distant laughter from Arthur's room. But outside — she was alone.
When Jane and Charles returned from work, Rosie rushed to greet them. But Jane seemed preoccupied, barely making eye contact.
Dinner time came.
The table was lavishly set — candlelight, champagne, soft music.
Arthur blinked. "What's the celebration?"
Jane smiled. "Our first anniversary."
Everyone clapped and cheered. Arthur raised his glass with a nod.
Rosie noticed Arthur seated next to that same girl — her hand brushing against his occasionally.
"Emily," Jane introduced. "Arthur's old flame. You two haven't seen each other in a while."
Rosie's stomach twisted.
The night went on with stories and laughter, but Rosie couldn't shake the unease.
Arthur's friends slowly left after dinner — except Emily.
Midnight
Rosie stayed up finishing some assignments, then started watching a show.
Around 12:30 a.m., she went to the kitchen for a glass of water.
On her way back… she froze.
A faint sound came from Arthur's room. A soft moan.
She inched closer. The door was slightly open — barely, but enough.
Inside, Arthur was naked, lying back on his bed. Emily was on top of him, moving slowly, her body pressed tight against his.
Arthur's hands were on her hips, gripping her as she rocked against him.
"Just like that…" he muttered through clenched teeth.
Emily lowered her head, licking across his chest, her hair trailing over his face.
Their rhythm grew faster, bodies slick with sweat, lips crashing as Emily moaned louder.
Arthur groaned, one hand sliding up to grab her hair as he pulled her into a deep, messy kiss.
Rosie's eyes widened. Her throat closed.
She turned and walked away — quickly. Quietly. Her heart pounding.
Back in her room, she shut the door, breathing hard.
Was it all fake? Everything they'd shared?
The Next Morning
Rosie was up early, dressed, and ready for college.
Before leaving, she stopped in front of Arthur's room.
He stepped out, stretching.
"Hey," she said, her voice flat.
He looked at her. "Morning."
"That wild party… from the other night," she said. "Think I could come this weekend?"
Arthur blinked. "Uh… yeah. Sure."
Rosie nodded once, then turned and left.
Arthur stood in the hallway, staring after her, confused… uneasy.
Something was different.
Something was coming.