Chapter 8
Rosella pressed her lips together, silent.
“I’m talking to you. Did you hear me?”
Clutching the hem of her skirt, Rosella asked cautiously, “Can we try? Just for a month.”
Elliot didn’t get it. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we can give it a month. If it doesn’t work out…” Rosella knew she was no longer someone others would fall for. She didn’t expect much; she just wanted to stay.
To stay, she needed something or someone to hold onto. Elliot wasn’t great, but he was her last lifeline.
“If it still doesn’t work… we can just tell our families we tried but failed.”
Her voice was so timid that it was almost stuttering.
Amused by her manner, Elliot leaned back, rolled his shoulders, and chuckled, “No wonder people say you’re a bitch. You’ve got a lot of schemes.”
“I’m sorry,” Rosella murmured. “If it’s not okay, I—”
“Okay.”
Elliot looked at her like he’d found an interesting little toy. “Works out for me. My family has to repay Mollie’s favor anyway.”
He took a sip of coffee, smirking, “But I’ll warn you now. I’m not a
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Chapter 8
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good person. A month with me? You might not survive it.”
Ever since Dewey heard Elliot had taken Rosella out, he’d been waiting for the drama to unfold.
Impulsive and blunt, Elliot would definitely say some awful things to Rosella. Just imagining her pale, embarrassed expression put Dewey in a better mood.
He stood at the window, watching as a small sedan pulled up downstairs.
Elliot got out first but suddenly remembered their arrangement and circled back to open the door for Rosella.
That surprised Dewey.
He froze at the window, gripping his cup tight, jaw clenched.
Elliot dropped Rosella off and left. Mollie pulled her aside for a long chat before finally letting her go. Upstairs, Rosella ran straight into Dewey, who looked like he was ready to flay her alive.
“I thought you’d changed. Turns out after all these years, you’ve just gotten better at your seduction tricks.”
Elliot had seen plenty of women. He should’ve looked down on someone like Rosella, but he escorted her back personally. Dewey believed she must’ve used some manipulative tactics.
Rosella stepped back, scared. “I didn’t.”
“You didn’t?”
Dewey let out a cold laugh, lowering his voice so Mollie downstairs wouldn’t hear, “Then why would Elliot personally bring you back?”
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“He just didn’t want his family to scold him,” Rosella murmured, clinging to the stair railing like she needed its support.
“Don’t think getting close to him will get you anywhere,” Dewey sneered. “With your past, I can guarantee no one will want you.”
Rosella didn’t argue. “I…”
She had long since stopped hoping. She wasn’t loved by Millard before, and now no one loved her. That sadness had become a numbing routine.
Dewey gave a chilling laugh and suddenly raised the cup, dumping the coffee over her head. It was burning, but Rosella didn’t flinch.
This kind of humiliation couldn’t hurt Rosella anymore.
The cup shattered on the floor.
Dewey stepped forward and grabbed Rosella’s arm. “Since you’re so desperate to hook up with someone, how about I help you?”
Before she even returned, Rosella had known these people wouldn’t let her go.
To them, she was the one who killed Angeline Santiago. She deserved to die. And since she was still alive, then a fate worse than death would be her punishment.
Night fell, casting cold shadows. Tolville lit up with dazzling lights.
Trailing behind Dewey, Rosella entered a club called Utopia Bar. Dewey was a regular. As soon as he walked in, a waiter took his coat and car keys and led him to a reserved private room. Rosella followed, like a ghost, invisible.
But once she passed through that door, everyone looked over.
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Their gazes weren’t kind. Dazzling lights shone over her face, and Rosella instinctively lowered her head to dodge. She might dodge the light, but she couldn’t dodge the mocking whispers.
“Dewey, who’s this? Aren’t you going to introduce her?”
Someone jumped in before Dewey could reply, “Are you blind? Don’t you recognize the noble Ms. Rowe?”
The identity Rosella once worked so hard to uphold was now a knife cutting back into her.
Dewey collapsed onto the sofa and raised his voice at Rosella, “Let’s call this a welcome party. Come on!”
In the shifting lights, Dewey subtly glanced toward the group in the shadows. They caught his signal instantly. Booze her up, mess with her.
This was their specialty.
