Chapter 2

Rosalie's POV

A kick slammed into my chest.

I flew backward, spine smashing into the marble.

"Psycho." Dominic's voice was ice. He pulled Vanessa into his arms, shielding her.

Vanessa buried her face in his chest, shoulders trembling. "Dominic, she... she didn't mean it. She's just upset..."

I knelt in the shattered cake, chest on fire, blood filling my mouth.

Ethan stormed over and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. "What the FUCK is wrong with you? Lay a finger on Vanessa again, I dare you!"

"It was HER!" I glared at him, then at Father behind him, voice raw. "She killed my mother! She was in on it! Why the hell do you keep protecting this BITCH?"

"SHUT UP!" Father's face twisted with rage. "Where's your proof? The cops caught the killer—that serial murderer died in prison! How long are you gonna keep spewing this bullshit?"

"That wasn't the real killer!" I thrashed against Ethan's grip. "The real killer was her—"

His hand clamped around my throat, choking the words back down.

"ENOUGH!" He loomed over me, eyes cold and dangerous. "Nine years ago, the second you came home, you started accusing Vanessa of killing Mom. And now you're pulling this shit again?"

He shoved my face down, grinding it into the ruined cake. "Vanessa told us everything—Mom was luring that killer away from you! She died in that alley because of YOU! Because you were there CRYING like a helpless little bitch!"

"That's NOT TRUE!" I shook my head desperately, frosting smearing across my face. "She's lying! She—"

A chunk of cake was shoved into my mouth.

His grip stayed on my throat. I couldn't swallow. Couldn't breathe. My vision started to blur.

That feeling—choking, dying—I knew it too well.

A memory flashed: a dark alley. Rough hands around my neck. The sound of a zipper. Something foul forced into my mouth—

"Swallow it." Ethan's voice came from above. "Every piece of the cake you ruined. Swallow it all."

I choked it down, tears and frosting mixing together, gagging, barely able to breathe.

"Please..." I whimpered. "I'm dying... I'm really dying..."

Ethan let go. He wiped his fingers on my hair like he'd touched something filthy.

"Cut the act. I've seen it all before."

Dominic walked over, frowning. "Every guy who ever messed with you at the club? We sent them. They were just there to scare you. Nobody actually touched you."

I lay on the floor, shaking.

It took a few seconds for his words to sink in.

"Those... were all you?"

Images flooded my mind:

Shoved into an alley, forced to my knees—

Liquor poured down my throat until I vomited blood and passed out—

Locked in the dressing room, a man tearing at my clothes, snapping photos to blackmail me—

"They were just there to scare me?" I lifted my head, eyes bloodshot. "Do you have ANY idea what they actually did to me?"

"What'd they do?" Ethan sounded bored. "Called you names. Pushed you around a little. You playing victim again?"

"I'm NOT making this up!" I sat up sharply. "You don't know what they really—"

"ENOUGH!" Father cut me off. "Rosalie, you think dragging Vanessa through the mud over and over is gonna make us believe you?"

He took a breath. "Nine years ago, your mother was murdered. You vanished. Vanessa was the one who gave us the tip that nailed the killer. Without her, your mother's death would've meant nothing."

"I adopted her because I owed her that much. She's poured her heart into this family for years. And you? What've you done?"

"You have no idea..." I mumbled, tears streaming. "No idea what she did... No idea what I went through..."

Dominic's eyes turned cold. He waved a hand dismissively.

"My apologies," he announced to the guests. "My ex-wife has... issues. Sorry for the scene."

His tone was smooth. Polished. Like he was apologizing for a misbehaving pet.

Guests whispered, eyeing me like I was trash.

Vanessa stood behind Father and Ethan, head bowed, dabbing at her tears. The picture of wounded innocence.

Dominic looked down at me like I was a problem to be solved.

"Rosalie, I married you like I promised. You wanted this, and I went along with it. Now quit the crazy act."

I looked up at him—this man I'd loved since childhood. The one I thought I'd spend my life with.

Six years ago, I crawled out of that hell, broken and bleeding, desperate to see him. But when I finally made it home, his eyes were already fixed on someone else.

He married me anyway. Because of the arrangement.

But on our wedding night, he slept in his study. Never once set foot in my room. Even Arlene was an accident—a drunken night he probably didn't remember.

I thought he just needed time. Turns out I'd been a joke from the start.

"By the way, there's been some noise lately." Dominic's tone stayed flat. "Someone's digging into the old case. Saying Vanessa was involved in that murder."

"Reporters are outside." His eyes narrowed. "You were there that night. Go shut them up."

I knelt on the floor, knees numb, stomach churning.

Dominic watched me, waiting.

All these years—the torture I'd endured, the tears I'd cried—they knew nothing. And they didn't want to know.

Meanwhile, the woman who killed my mother stood right behind them, cradled in their arms like something precious.

I started to laugh.

A broken, shaking laugh. Tears pouring down my face.

"Fine."

I dropped my gaze, shoving all that hatred down deep.

When I looked up again, the hysteria was gone.

"I'll shut them up."