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Chapter 46
Rose point of view
I stared at my phone screen until the words blurred, reading the same headline for the twentieth time. "ROSE LEWIS: THE PRIVATE LIFE SHE DIDN'T WANT YOU TO SEE” Beneath it, that grainy photo of me How? How had anyone found this? I'd been so careful.
My boutique office, normally my sanctuary, felt suffocating now. Outside, I could hear my staff whispering, their usual respectful silence replaced by urgent murmurs. They'd seen the stories. Everyone had.
Three major fashion sites had dropped my spring collection Five influencers had canceled promotional contracts. Two department stores had "postponed" their orders. All within twenty- four hours.
My empire, built so carefully brick by brick, was crumbling beneath my feet.
The phone on my desk rang again. My publicity team, no doubt, with another useless strategy. I'd already released three statements, first denying everything, then suggesting the photos were manipulated, final I ignored the call, returning to my social media feeds. The comments cut like knives.
"Always knew she was fake."
"Poor Camille, no wonder she drove into that river."
"#RoseThoms is right beautiful but toxic!"
Tears stung my eyes. Not from shame, I'd never felt shame for taking what I wanted, but from rage. I'd spent years crafting the perfect image. The talented designer. The grieving sister. The devoted fiancée. All stolen moment captured on film.
The office door banged open. Stefan stood there, still wearing his work suit, face thunderous. He held his phone in a white-
knuckled grip.
"When were you going to tell me?" His voice was dangerously quiet.
I stood, smoothing my skirt, forcing my face into concerned lines. "Stefan, darling. I've been
trying to reach you all day. These rumors are....”
"Not rumors." He stepped inside, slamming the door behind him. "Facts. With photographic evidence."
"It was years ago. Before us. Before..."
“Before us?” He laughed, a harsh sound I'd never heard from him. "According to the date on this photo, you were sleeping with your mentor's husband three weeks after I married your sister."
Ice slid down my spine. I hadn't noticed the timestamp. Hadn't thought anyone would look that closely.
"It wasn't serious," I tried, moving toward him. "A mistake One night that meant nothing."
back, avoiding my touch. "And the others?
too? How
feeding you these lies?" I demanded, offense as defense.
destroy what we have?"
hair, disheveled in a way that would normally make me want to fix it. "What exactly do we have, Rose? A relationship built on our manipulation of
He stared at me like
you really were during your 'year in Paris'? Because according to these new photos, you spent six months on a
evidence. My mind raced, calculating damage, planning counterattacks. Who was doing this? Who had the resources and motivation
like," I said, falling back on
what it looks like. Not your relationship with me while I was married to Camille.
was struggling. Not your sudden
genuine anger flaring.
it?" He moved closer, eyes searching mine. "Because keep remembering your face that night. When they told us her car went off that
Grief affects people differently. You know
slowly, "is that I'm beginning to wonder if I ever
I could respond.
threshold, my mother's eyes red-
usually so
cold.
now, the walls closing in. I'd faced criticism before, weathered minor scandals, but never
you can see.
I said, desperation leaking into my voice. "I'm dealing
man while you were studying? Is that what you call lying about where you were during your
you were busy messing around with
truly had been
was distant with Camille, all those nights you... and you were on some Russian's yacht? In
at the office thinking about you, missing bed?" His voice broke slightly. "You made
having fun?"
advocate, always taken my side against Camille, against anyone who challenged me. And Stefan
who would always
are being taken out
with Jonathan at a private dinner. Me with Lord Hartley at
choices to advance my career," I said, drawing myself up. "Cholces men make every
to be working in Paris while lounging on criminal yachts," my father snapped.
while claiming to be learning design
stunned me. My parents had never confronted me this way, had always accepted my explanations, my tears, my
shock. "Because the daughter we thought we knew
she was so special, so tal My voice had risen to a shout, years of resentment fueling my words. Yes, they'd
had. Support she never received. And this is how you honor that? By destroying your own reputation? By embarrassing thi "My reputation?" I grabbed a vase from my desk, hurling it against the wall. Water and flowers sprayed across my design sketches, ruining weeks of work. "My entire career is being dismantled by these stories, Stefan moved between me and my parents, hands raised as if calming a wild animal. "Rose, you need
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