The night after the confrontation felt colder than any Rosaline had lived through in Sunderglen. The wind hissed through the old wooden shutters of her room, rattling them as if warning her that something dark had been set in motion. Thunder rolled in the distance, low and heavy, like the growl of a beast waiting for its moment.
Downstairs, her parents spoke in tense whispers, their silhouettes stretched across the floor by the flickering lantern light. Rosaline didn't need to hear their words to know the meaning behind them: Adrian's return had disrupted everything. The carefully planned alliance with Alexander Hartley was now unstable. The family's standing in the village was threatened. And worse — the secrets they thought long buried were beginning to surface.
But none of that mattered to Rosaline in this moment. She stood at her window, her hand resting against the cold glass, eyes fixed on the river where moonlight trembled across the surface like a quiet promise. She thought Adrian was still beside her, standing with her, thinking of solutions and safety. Instead, she was alone — again — with only the darkness as company.
Adrian had left abruptly that evening, telling her he needed to "fix something" before dawn. She had asked what, but he'd simply kissed her forehead and whispered, "Trust me."
She wanted to. She desperately wanted to.
But the last fourteen years had taught her one cruel lesson:
Even the strongest promises can shatter if fate decides so.
Far from her window, Adrian Raymond walked alone.
The night wrapped around him like a cloak. His sharp suit from the morning had grown disheveled, dust-clinging, and soaked slightly by the mist rising from the riverbed. His thoughts, usually calculating and sharp, were scattered.
Alexander's words replayed in his mind.
"If you fail, the consequences will be dire — for both of you."
Adrian clenched his jaw so tightly it ached.
For fourteen years, he had risen from nothing — from the boy forced out of Sunderglen — to a man feared in business circles, respected by the wealthy, and admired by those beneath him. He had built power brick by brick, fueled by his longing for Rosaline. But Alexander's influence was different, woven not through money alone, but through families, political ties, and dark alliances that stretched beyond Sunderglen.
Adrian knew he could protect Rosaline from almost anything…
but not everything.
And tonight, he had sensed something shifting — something dangerous.
Which was why he sought out the only person in Sunderglen who seemed to move in shadows deeper than his own:
Vincent.
A lantern flickered near the edge of the forest, barely illuminating the narrow trail.
Adrian paused, scanning the darkness.
"You followed me," he said quietly.
From the shadows emerged Vincent, tall and pale, his eyes reflecting the lantern glow like those of an animal accustomed to night. His lips twisted into a smirk. "Of course I did. You're not as subtle as you think, Adrian."
"You're working with someone," Adrian said, voice low. "Who?"
Vincent stepped closer, the faint scent of rain-soaked earth lingering around him. "Information has a price."
Adrian's patience snapped. He grabbed Vincent by the collar and slammed him against a tree, voice sharp. "If you hurt Rosaline in any way—"
Vincent laughed softly.
A chilling, amused sound.
"I don't need to hurt her. Others will do that for me. And for you."
Adrian's grip tightened. "Tell me who you report to."
Vincent leaned close, whispering just enough to make Adrian freeze.
"Alexander isn't your only rival."
Before Adrian could respond, Vincent pushed him back with surprising strength and disappeared into the darkness, swallowed by the forest as if he were part of it.
Adrian stood still, heart pounding, mind racing.
If Alexander wasn't the only threat…
Who else wanted Rosaline?
And why?
Back at the house, the lanterns were dimming.
Rosaline descended the stairs quietly, her mother's voice stopping her mid-step.
"—We cannot let her choose him. His family despises us. His mother made it clear fourteen years ago."
Rosaline froze, her breath catching.
Her father whispered, "I remember."
"She humiliated us," her mother continued bitterly. "Told us we were 'less than dirt' and unworthy of her son."
Rosaline felt a sharp pain in her chest.
Adrian never told me…
"And what's worse," her mother added, voice trembling, "she told him to leave our daughter forever."
Rosaline pressed a hand to her mouth.
That's why he disappeared? It wasn't his choice?
Her father sighed. "Even if Adrian loves her, he will never go against his family. He never did."
Her mother nodded slowly. "And he never will."
Rosaline stood frozen on the stairs, heart breaking silently.
Adrian had promised her that nothing would pull them apart.
But his parents had already done it once.
Would they do it again?
Would he let them?
The doubts crept into her mind like slow poison.
Rosaline needed air.
She stepped outside into the night, the cold wind stinging her cheeks. She wrapped her shawl around herself and walked toward the banyan tree — their haven, their childhood refuge.
Her footsteps were soft against the dirt, but the silence felt wrong tonight. Too thick. Too expectant.
As she approached the tree, she stopped abruptly.
There were footprints.
Fresh ones.
Not Adrian's.
Not hers.
Heavy, deep, deliberate.
Someone had been here — waiting.
And something glinted near the roots.
Rosaline bent down and picked it up.
A silver cufflink.
Not Adrian's.
Not her father's.
Not any villager's.
The design was intricate — a serpent coiled around a sword.
She had never seen it before.
But she knew enough to feel fear prickling down her spine.
Someone had been watching her.
And not for the first time.
When Adrian finally returned, the village was asleep.
He knocked on Rosaline's window instead of the door, as he used to when they were children. She opened it softly, heart aching with both relief and sharp, quiet questions.
"Rosaline…" he whispered, climbing in carefully.
She didn't smile.
He noticed immediately.
"What happened?" he asked.
Rosaline looked at him, eyes tired, hurt shimmering beneath the surface. "Why didn't you tell me about your family?"
Adrian's expression froze.
She continued, voice trembling, "That they insulted my parents. That they forced you to leave. That your mother thought we were unworthy."
"Rosaline—"
"You didn't think I should know?"
Adrian stepped closer, reaching for her hand. She pulled back. The rejection struck him like a blow.
"I didn't want to hurt you," he said slowly. "I didn't want you to think I left willingly."
"But you did leave," she whispered. "And you didn't come back."
"I couldn't fight them then."
"And now?" she whispered, searching his eyes. "Can you fight them now?"
Adrian's throat tightened.
He hesitated.
A breath too long.
A silence too deep.
Rosaline felt her heart drop.
The hesitation was her answer.
"Rosaline," he whispered, "I'll find a way. Just give me time."
She closed her eyes.
Time.
That was what he always needed.
Time — that she always gave — and time that always betrayed her.
She opened her hand slowly and showed him the cufflink.
"I found this near our banyan tree."
Adrian's eyes widened. "Where?"
"Exactly where we were earlier."
Adrian took it, examining it with a cold, sinking expression.
He knew the symbol.
He knew its meaning.
And he knew what it meant for Rosaline.
"This belongs to someone dangerous," Adrian whispered. "Someone who should not be anywhere near you."
She swallowed. "Another rival?"
"No," Adrian said quietly. "Something worse."
Rosaline looked up at him, fear intertwining with doubt.
For the first time since his return, she wondered:
Was Adrian truly capable of protecting her?
Or was this the beginning of his unraveling?