Chapter 1

"Ms. Weston, have you made your decision? Once you join this classified project, there's no turning back. All contact with the outside world will be severed. Are you absolutely sure?"

Rosalie Weston stared blankly at the melting cake on the table. A sharp ache stabbed at her chest with every second.

Yesterday was her birthday. Evan Jensen had ordered her favorite vanilla cake, yet he vanished that night and never returned.

For a long while, Rosalie said nothing.

A soft sigh came through the phone. "It's normal for couples to argue. Take your time to think it through. This mission lasts three years. Are you sure your marriage can survive such a long separation? The final list won't be confirmed for another month. You can give me your answer then."

Rosalie ended the call and glanced at the photo resting on the table.

In the picture, the man was sharp and distinguished, while the young woman beside him glowed with life. Her head rested gently on his shoulder, and her smile was warm and tender.

Rosalie's love for Evan ran deep. Despite knowing his heart wasn't truly hers, she accepted his marriage proposal without a second thought.

She believed the heart was like a fragile glass bottle. If she poured in enough love, it would eventually overflow.

However, she failed to see one vital truth—a glass bottle without a bottom could never be filled.

Rubbing her red, tired eyes, Rosalie made her way to the study to organize her research materials.

She had stayed up well past midnight the night before and was utterly exhausted. Before long, she drifted off at her desk.

The sudden ringing of her phone startled her awake.

It was one of Evan's friends. "Hey Rosalie, Evan's drunk. Can you come pick him up?"

Rosalie moved her numb arm. Just as she was about to suggest sending the chauffeur, Alan Dover, she recalled that Evan had a weak stomach. She was worried others might not take good care of him.

After a moment's hesitation, she said, "Send me the address."

The private lounge was crowded, and Rosalie spotted Evan's closest friends.

Celine Joyner had recently returned from abroad, and they were celebrating her homecoming.

Evan was in high spirits. He clearly had a bit too much to drink. Not only did he accept every toast, but he also intercepted every glass meant for Celine.

He now lay sprawled on the couch, a delicate flush coloring his cheeks. Rather than diminishing his looks, it lent a languid, almost seductive charm to his already striking features.

Celine had stepped away to use the restroom.

Taking advantage of her absence, someone leaned in and whispered, "What's Evan playing at? Why would he throw such a lavish welcome party for Celine when he's already married? That doesn't seem appropriate, does it?"

"Marriage is one thing. Feelings are another. Let's not forget why Evan married Rosalie in the first place—"

Before the person could finish, Ambrose Fullerton shot them a piercing glare. "Looks like not even a full table can keep you two from running your mouths."

However, his words came a moment too late. Rosalie was already standing in the doorway. She had heard everything.

Maybe the cold was to blame, but her fingers felt numb from the chill.

The door was left ajar, and she was spotted almost immediately. The person who had spoken quickly stood and greeted her politely. "Hey, Rosalie!"

A ripple of polite greetings followed.

Though Evan didn't love her, he had always shown her dignity and respect. His friends treated her with the same courtesy.

Because of what had been said, the room fell silent as soon as she entered.

Rosalie approached and gently placed a hand on Evan's shoulder. "Evan, it's time to go home."

Evan's eyelids fluttered open. When he saw her, a faint smile graced his lips. "You came."

Those two words softened something deep within Rosalie's frozen heart. "Can you get up on your own?" she asked.

He reached for her hand and pulled himself up.

As they moved toward the door, they came face to face with Celine, who was seated in a wheelchair.

Their eyes locked. Rosalie couldn't help but notice how well Celine and Evan complemented each other.

A sharp pang tightened in her chest, and she quickly looked away.

"You're heading out already?" Celine asked. "It's my fault. Evan wouldn't be this drunk if he hadn't been drinking on my behalf. Sorry for the trouble."

Rosalie's fingers curled slightly as she took a deep breath. "He's my husband. There's no such thing as trouble."

Celine moved aside, her gentle demeanor unwavering. "Have a safe journey."

Evan leaned heavily on Rosalie, his tall, strong frame pressing down on her. Supporting his weight was a challenge, and she struggled to keep him steady.

As they walked past Celine's wheelchair, Evan reached out and tousled her hair. "The house is ready. The chauffeur will take you home. Remember to message me when you get there."

Celine's smile deepened. "Okay!"

Tears welled in Rosalie's eyes, but she didn't pull away from Evan. Instead, she helped him into the car.

Throughout the entire ride, Rosalie stayed silent, her gaze fixed blankly on the passing streets outside the window.

Evan leaned against her shoulder, his breathing gentle and shallow. A trace of alcohol intertwined with the lingering scent of cedarwood on his skin. It was a scent that was distinctly his.

Alan helped carry him inside.

Rosalie removed his coat and shoes. As she stood to grab a warm towel, a strong hand gripped hers.

Evan pulled her down onto the bed, holding her tightly in his arms.

The tip of his nose gently brushed against her cheek. His husky voice was thick with drunkenness, but beneath it lingered a deep yearning. "Please don't leave."

He seldom drank, and moments of tenderness like this were even rarer.

His typical aloofness had disappeared. Tonight, he clung to her like a faithful dog longing for attention.

Rosalie didn't pull away, savoring the moment. But soon, a surge of frustration bubbled up inside her.

Why did he go out of his way to host a welcome party for Celine and even arrange a place for her to stay?

Rosalie looked up, her eyes tracing the gentle contours of his face. In a quiet voice, she asked, "Evan, do you love me?"

"Of course I do."

With his eyes still closed, he pressed a tender kiss to her eyelid.

He had once told her that her eyes were his favorite part of her.

Rosalie was tempted to ask if he preferred her or Celine. But before the words could leave her lips, Evan's phone vibrated in his pocket.

She reached for it and saw Maurice Johnson's name on the screen.

She had heard about him recently. Apparently, he was collaborating with Evan on a project.

Concerned it might be important, Rosalie answered the call and held the phone to Evan's ear. "It's Maurice."

"Hello, Mr. Jensen," came the voice on the other end of the line.

However, Evan didn't seem to hear him. Annoyed that his sleep had been interrupted, he frowned and pulled Rosalie closer by the waist.

"Celine, stop making a fuss."

The words hit Rosalie like a splash of ice water. She froze, the cold sinking deep into her bones.

Maurice realized he'd called at a bad time. He chuckled awkwardly and hung up.

Rosalie pushed Evan away and rose to her feet. The tears she'd been holding back all day finally broke free, falling in heavy, silent drops.

In the end, the "love" he spoke of wasn't meant for her.

Had he liked her eyes only because they reminded him of Celine's?

A sharp blade twisted in Rosalie's heart, the pain suffocating her.

"Where did you go?"

Evan opened his eyes, sensing the emptiness where Rosalie once was. She stood by the bed, her back facing him.

He reached out to her. "Come here. I want to hold you as I fall asleep."

Not in a million years.

At some point, heartbreak turned into anger. When the pain became unbearable, all reason slipped away.

In a sudden burst of fury, Rosalie snatched a tissue box and threw it at his head.

"Why don't you go hold your first love?

"I'm just a placeholder. I'm not worthy of your love!"

When she looked back, she realized Evan had already passed out.

Chapter 2

Evan woke up the next day with a splitting headache.

"Rosalie," he called out.

Not only did his head throb, but his throat was sore too. "Can you make me a cup of honey lemon tea?"

The room remained silent.

He rubbed his temples and sat up slowly. Just then, the voice of the housekeeper, Miriam Harland, came drifting in from outside the door. "Mr. Jensen, Mrs. Jensen left early this morning. Do you need anything?"

"Did she say where she was going?" Evan asked, glancing at the mirror on the vanity. A dark bruise was already forming on his forehead.

"She didn't say," Miriam replied. "And she skipped breakfast."

Evan asked Miriam to bring him an ice pack. Leaning against the vanity, he tried calling Rosalie, but the calls went unanswered.

Meanwhile, Rosalie had put her phone on silent and laid it face-down on the table.

She looked up at the person across from her and said, "You didn't call me here this early just to experience Juville's breakfast culture, did you?"

Celine got straight to the point. "You should divorce Evan."

Rosalie's hands clenched tightly in her lap. "And why would I do that?"

"Because he loves me, not you."

A sarcastic smile played on Celine's lips. "You're just a stand-in. Evan only came to you because I wasn't there. You've never truly been loved by him. So why not step aside gracefully and save what little dignity you have left?"

The steaming cup of tea sat on the table. Its amber hue was warm and inviting, though its aroma carried a bitter, unpleasant note.

Rosalie pushed the cup away. "Even if I gave up the title of Mrs. Jensen, you wouldn't be able to take it. You're a cripple, remember? Do you honestly think the Jensen family would welcome you?"

Celine's face darkened. "You—"

"Besides," Rosalie cut in, "I'm far from ready to give up the title of Mrs. Jensen."

She met Celine's hateful gaze, making sure every word landed hard. "Unless Evan himself asks for a divorce, I'm not going anywhere."

Rosalie ignored the breakfast on the table. She grabbed her bag and walked past Celine. As a thought struck her, she paused and lifted a finger to her lips.

"Here's a little secret. Evan isn't very good in bed. You might want to think twice," she whispered.

Celine's face darkened instantly.

As Rosalie stepped out of the restaurant, the mask of nonchalance she had worn just now shattered completely.

Divorce…

She didn't have the strength to face Celine anymore. Deep down, she knew Evan's heart wasn't hers.

No matter how fiercely she loved, it could never reach a heart that beat for someone else.

The cold air hinted at coming snow. Frost rimmed the withered leaves, clinging delicately to the bare branches.

Rosalie sat in the car, letting the heater run a while as warmth finally seeped into her body.

On silent mode, her phone suddenly lit up with a call. She glanced at it but didn't answer.

Messages came flooding in.

Evan's text read, ''You're getting bold now, huh? How could you leave me alone in bed without even covering me with a blanket?''

Still angry, Rosalie shot back, "What's the matter? Are you feeling cold?''

Before he could reply, she added, ''Well, it's a shame you didn't freeze to death.''

Frustrated, Evan didn't respond.

Just as Rosalie was about to drive away, a new message popped up. It was from her father, George Weston. He said he'd be arriving in Juville that afternoon by high-speed rail.

Rosalie pulled over to the side of the road and called him.

''Dad, why didn't you tell me you were coming sooner? I could have made the necessary arrangements.''

George's voice was gentle and polite. "An old army buddy invited me to visit for a few days. I didn't want to trouble you. If you're free, let's have a meal together. If not, that's alright."

Rosalie's relationship with her adoptive parents had always been distant.

They had taken her in from an orphanage after she lost her memory. Though they cared for her, their affection felt reserved. They treated her more like a guest than a family member.

She sometimes wondered if it was because she wasn't their biological daughter. Still, they had raised her, and she never forgot their kindness.

"I'm free. I'll pick you up at the train station this afternoon," Rosalie said.

"Is Evan available?" George asked. "If he's not busy, invite him to join us."

After ending the call, Rosalie instantly regretted the texts she'd sent Evan earlier.

Unfortunately, there was no "unsend" button. How awkward.

Still, attitude was everything when it came to keeping up appearances.

She quickly sent a follow-up message, pretending to be concerned. "I hope you didn't catch a cold. Remember to drink plenty of hot water to warm up."

His reply came almost immediately. "What do you want? Just say it."

Rosalie was at a loss for words.

After two years of marriage, they knew each other too well. Her sudden shift in tone only deepened his suspicion.

"My dad's in Juville. He wants to have dinner with us tonight."

"Alright. I'll stop by after work," Evan said.

That afternoon, Rosalie went to pick George up at the train station.

They chose a private restaurant near Evan's office to make it easier for him to join them after work.

Just as Rosalie parked the car and was about to send Evan the restaurant address, his message popped up first.

"Something urgent came up. Please apologize to your dad for me."

What now? He had already agreed to come.

Why make a promise if he was just going to break it?

Rosalie lowered her gaze, masking the disappointment in her eyes. She noticed George had already gotten out of the car. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself and stepped out as well.

"Dad, Evan had to work overtime, so he won't be joining us for dinner. He asked me to apologize."

"Work comes first," George said nonchalantly. "Just make sure he takes care of his health, even when things get busy."

It had been over six months since George and Rosalie last met, but conversation between them was scarce. When Rosalie's adoptive mother, Carol Ferguson, was still alive, she had a way of easing the awkwardness.

But since her passing from cancer, there was no one left to fill the silence.

A heaviness hung in the air, making the atmosphere feel empty.

After dinner, George excused himself to use the restroom.

As he passed down the hallway, a familiar voice caught his attention from behind a partially open door.

He paused and glanced inside. Evan sat close to a dark-haired woman, his arm draped casually over the back of her chair. The air between them was charged with intimacy.

At that moment, Rosalie stood just outside, collecting some fruit she had ordered for George. The delivery man couldn't find their private room, so she stepped out to meet him.

Noticing George standing motionless, she moved closer, eager to break the silence. But just out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the two figures inside the room.

The closeness between them sent a chill down her spine.

As George turned, their eyes met. His intense gaze struck Rosalie like a heavy blow.

The illusions she'd worked so hard to maintain crumbled in an instant.

Nothing was more humiliating than having her deceit and shame exposed before her own family.

Rosalie's mind went completely blank—she couldn't find a single excuse for Evan's behavior.

In silence, Rosalie and George returned to their private room.

George was a man of few words, and Rosalie felt as though her own voice had vanished.

She couldn't bring herself to tell him that his son-in-law had bailed on their dinner for another woman.

Rosalie knew she was always nothing more than a backup plan, after all.

She could endure the pain herself, but the thought of George facing such disdain and betrayal crushed her heart.

Outside the restaurant, George spoke up. "You don't need to go out of your way to drop me off. There's a subway station right here. It'll be a lot easier for me to get to my friend's place."

Rosalie handed him the bag of fruit. He took it and began walking toward the subway entrance. After a few steps, he paused and glanced back at her.

The night was dark and cold, the wind cutting sharply across their faces. "Don't ever let anyone mistreat you," George said.

Rosalie forced a smile, doing her best to hold herself together until George's figure vanished from sight.

Once inside the car, the tears she'd held back finally spilled over, streaming down like a broken dam.

Tears were certainly peculiar. They could be held back during pain or exhaustion, but when injustice struck, they became impossible to suppress.

She buried her face in the steering wheel, losing track of time as she wept. When she finally looked up into the rearview mirror, her eyes were red and swollen.

Rosalie wiped her tears and gazed out the window. Her thoughts drifted to the classified project that would last three years.

Her mentor had great expectations for her. More than once, she had urged her to dedicate herself fully to national defense.

Still, Rosalie hesitated.

She wasn't driven by lofty ambitions. All she ever longed for was a peaceful life, built with someone who could return her love wholeheartedly.

But ever since Celine returned to the country, Rosalie had been forced to face a painful truth. The happiness she once believed in was nothing but an illusion—a fragile mirage that shattered the moment she tried to grasp it.

She opened the calendar app on her phone. 27 days remained until the final list for the project was confirmed.

27 days…

Did it even make sense for her to keep holding on?

Chapter 3

Rosalie never expected Evan to come home that night after dining with Celine, his first love. But when he did, she was both surprised and bitterly amused.

"You've been crying," he said.

The room was dim, yet he noticed her swollen eyes right away.

Rosalie turned away and pulled the blanket over her head. She didn't want to see him at all.

"If you suffocate under there, I'll need a replacement wife," Evan joked, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached out to pull the blanket away.

Rosalie stopped resisting. She threw off the blanket and sat up. "I didn't realize you still remembered I'm your wife."

Evan didn't flinch at her sharp words. His eyes locked onto hers. He reached out to gently lift her chin, but she slapped his hand away immediately.

"Don't touch me!"

She looked like a scared kitten. It was an oddly endearing sight.

A flicker of amusement danced in Evan's eyes. He reached out to tousle her hair. "Did dinner with George come with a side of dynamite?"

The more nonchalant he acted, the more absurd her anger felt. Rosalie's temper flared. Without a word, she reached for the tissue box on the nightstand.

Raising an eyebrow, Evan intercepted her wrist. "Not again."

Leaning closer, he pointed to his forehead. "I look like I got hit by a wrecking ball. At least ten people asked me today who beat me up. How am I supposed to walk around looking like this?"

The bruise on his forehead was impossible to ignore.

Rosalie glared at the bump and snapped, "Well, you had it coming."

"True, true," he replied. "I guess that's what happens when you have a grumpy little troublemaker at home."

Rosalie was momentarily lost for words, stunned by his shameless attitude.

Evan pulled her onto his lap, his fingers gently tracing the redness beneath her eyes. "What's got my little kitten in tears?"

Rosalie didn't respond.

She despised how the slightest warmth from him could make her melt inside.

It made her feel sick to her core.

Her nose was still stuffy from crying. Just as she was about to say something, Evan's phone buzzed.

After stealing a glance at the screen, he quickly shielded it with his hand. He lightly patted her hip and signaled for her to step aside.

Though he moved quickly, Rosalie caught a brief glimpse of the screen. It was a call from Celine.

After hanging up, Evan turned away from her, his fingers tightening around his tie. A trace of irritation laced his voice as he said, "Go to bed early. I have something to handle."

Without a word, he loosened his tie and walked out the door.

Rosalie remained frozen on the bed. The warmth that had just started to bloom in her chest was suddenly plunged back into an icy cellar.

…

Once again, Evan didn't come home that night.

Rosalie's body was naturally cold. So, even with the heater on, her feet never warmed up.

Evan, however, had a naturally high body temperature. He used to hold her as they slept, his warmth keeping her feet cozy through the night.

But now, the space beside her was cold and empty. Her feet felt like ice.

"If only Celine had never come back," Rosalie thought bitterly.

Yet as the thought lingered, she winced, struck by the depth of her own bitterness.

That afternoon, she packed some clothes and settled into the institute's research base.

To ensure the researchers could focus completely, the institute offered each of them a private dorm room.

She remained at the base for two days, deliberately avoiding contact with Evan.

What was both bitterly ironic and painful was that he hadn't reached out to her either.

He probably hadn't even gone home and was unaware that she'd moved into the research base.

That afternoon, Rosalie was reviewing a set of rail navigation systems.

There was a sudden knock at the door. It was her senior, Jasmine Reiner. She entered and informed Rosalie that the dean, Joseph Herman, wanted her to welcome an important guest.

Reception duties weren't usually part of Rosalie's role, but thanks to her polished appearance, Joseph had once called on her last-minute to welcome the mayor. She'd impressed everyone with how well she handled it.

Since then, she'd become Joseph's trusted choice for hosting high-profile visitors.

As Rosalie was about to leave, Jasmine shared some juicy gossip she'd caught wind of. "I heard the big shot visiting today is a real charmer. He donated 20 million to the library and didn't request any honorary title. The only thing he asked was for his girlfriend to be enrolled so she could earn a degree."

Buying a degree with money wasn't unusual, but when love was involved, the story suddenly sounded enviable.

"That girl is so lucky to have a wealthy and handsome boyfriend who pampers her like crazy. What kind of prayer do I need to say to attract a guy like that?"

Rosalie smiled as she grabbed her bag. "If you find out, let me know. I wouldn't mind having one either."

The research base was only a 15-minute drive from campus. As Rosalie arrived at the gate, she unexpectedly ran into a group of people.

When she saw who was standing there, she stopped in her tracks.

With a wave, Joseph called out, "Rosalie, over here!"

Though the winter sun was unusually bright that day, Rosalie felt a chill in her hands and feet. Her limbs felt stiff, like they no longer belonged to her.

Evan stood bathed in sunlight, dressed in a charcoal-gray suit beneath a long black coat. His calm and poised presence seemed to outshine everyone around him.

Clad in black leather gloves, he stood behind a wheelchair. Sitting in it was none other than Celine.

She was wrapped in layers, a white down coat fitted snugly around her. With pink earmuffs and a matching mask, she looked as delicate as a porcelain doll.

Rosalie suddenly noticed how plainly she was dressed. Against Celine's elegance, she seemed awkward and out of place.

The harsh sunlight pricked at her eyes.

"Rosalie!" Joseph called once more, assuming she hadn't heard him.

Snapping back to attention, Rosalie forced her stiff legs to carry her forward.

With a warm smile, Joseph introduced her to Evan. Rosalie kept her gaze fixed on the ground, hesitant to meet Evan's eyes. When she finally dared to look up, her eyes met Celine's.

Celine lifted her eyebrows, a sly, victorious gleam flashing in her eyes.

The irony was ruthless. Her husband had spent millions buying a degree for his mistress, and now she was expected to welcome them both like a gracious hostess.

"So what if some people get praised for their tolerance?" Rosalie thought. "I've had to put up with more than anyone should."

"Evan," Celine called over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling. "I really like this young lady. Can I have her push me?"

Rosalie's eyes shot up to Evan.

She stood before him as his legal wife, while Celine was nothing more than his mistress. He wouldn't actually dare say yes, would he?

"Sure."

His deep, magnetic voice rang out without a hint of hesitation.

Joseph found the arrangement perfectly reasonable. Seeing Rosalie hesitate, he promptly encouraged her to take over the wheelchair.

Though the sun was out, the winter wind still cut sharply. Evan couldn't help but notice how Rosalie's hands had turned red from the cold.

As he handed her the wheelchair handles, he removed his gloves and offered them to her.

Rosalie paused, a faint spark flickering in her dim eyes.

All of a sudden, Evan's voice broke the silence. "Don't let your hands slip. And don't let her fall."

Chapter 4

Rosalie's face betrayed her emotions. She was completely flustered.

It turned out the gloves were meant to improve her grip. But more than that, they carried Evan's quiet warning not to harm his "delicate princess".

A cold wind sneaked down Rosalie's collar. She was underdressed and had forgotten her scarf. The chill made her shiver uncontrollably.

"You certainly have quite the tolerance," Celine remarked, her voice laced with mockery.

Besides Evan, there was another man with them. Rosalie had seen him before. He was Maurice, Evan's business partner. He walked ahead, matching Joseph's pace.

"What else can I do?" Rosalie replied flatly, refusing to wear the gloves. As they passed a trash bin, she tossed them in. Her bare fingers quickly turned red from the biting cold.

"You're the apple of Evan's eye. Obviously, I wouldn't be foolish enough to push you into the lake," she added.

The lake wasn't far off. Celine glanced toward it and sneered. "With that look, you don't seem scared to try."

"My legs might be weak, but my brain's still sharp. Looks like you saw right through me," Rosalie replied.

Celine tensed immediately, clutching the sides of the wheelchair.

Rosalie had only meant to scare her. After all, she was representing Juville Institute of Technology and didn't want to cause a scene.

"I was just kidding. I didn't expect you to be so easily startled," she remarked.

Celine's face twisted in irritation as she glared at Rosalie. "What kind of sick joke is that? It's not even funny!"

"You're the funny one. Actually, you're the funniest," Rosalie snapped back.

Unable to win the exchange, Celine felt a surge of frustration. Her eyes flicked ahead, noticing they were approaching a slope.

If she fell while Rosalie was pushing her, maybe the odds would shift in her favor.

With that thought, Celine suddenly reached back and yanked Rosalie's hand.

Caught off guard, Rosalie winced, her grip on the wheelchair loosening.

The wheelchair spiraled out of control, tumbling down the slope as Celine's panicked scream tore through the air. It crashed violently into the bushes below.

Her scream was instantly silenced by the impact.

Joseph's heart dropped, a single thought repeating in his mind—"It's over."

He spun around, ready to confront the culprit. But to his surprise, he saw Rosalie lying on the ground. "What happened?" he asked.

Celine had pulled her so forcefully that Rosalie didn't notice the slick patches left by last night's rain. Her foot gave way, and she tumbled hard.

Her pants were soaked instantly, the chill sinking deep into her bones.

"There was water on the ground... I slipped," Rosalie said. She tried to stand, but as soon as she put weight on her ankle, a sharp pain shot through her leg.

No one paid her any attention. Looking up, she saw everyone gathered around Celine. Evan had already lifted her into his arms.

Rosalie's freezing fingers remained on the icy puddle where she had fallen. Even though both she and Celine had tumbled, Evan rushed straight to Celine, leaving Rosalie behind.

The cold air she breathed felt like knives slicing through her throat.

Celine sobbed into Evan's chest. "I don't know why she suddenly let go... I really thought I was going to die..."

Evan turned toward Rosalie, his gaze sharp and icy.

No winter wind could match the coldness in his eyes. Rosalie forced herself up, a sharp pain shooting through her ankle. Joseph quickly moved to steady her.

"I didn't mean to let go," she said, her nose bright red from the cold. "She grabbed my hand so hard. I was in pain and had no choice but to release the handles. I didn't realize the brake wasn't fully engaged."

Celine's sobs turned more desperate. "No… she's spouting nonsense. She let go on purpose."

Rosalie trembled, her whole body shaking uncontrollably. Her lips turned pale as she whispered, "She's lying."

It didn't matter what the others thought. Only Evan's judgment mattered.

Their gazes locked across the cold, brittle air. A trace of emotion crossed Evan's eyes, vanishing almost as quickly as it appeared.

Suddenly, Maurice spoke up. "Celine's about to undergo rehabilitation surgery for her legs. Are you seriously suggesting she'd jeopardize her own recovery just to frame you? That doesn't make any sense."

Rosalie kept her gaze fixed on Evan. As long as he believed her, nothing else mattered.

The air grew cold. "Exactly. Celine has no reason to act petty," Evan said.

At that moment, Rosalie's heart sank.

Cradled in Evan's arms, Celine spoke up right on cue. "Evan… my leg really hurts…"

Evan carefully settled her back into the wheelchair. "I'll take you to the hospital."

Joseph continued apologizing to Celine, a strained smile on his face.

Evan's brow remained furrowed. He waved Joseph off, signaling he wouldn't press the matter.

Seeing Rosalie's miserable state, Joseph went to call for help.

Just as Evan began to move the wheelchair away, he suddenly turned back and walked toward Rosalie.

Without a word, he removed his coat and placed it over her shoulders.

Rosalie froze. The coat blocked out the biting wind, wrapping her in a comforting scent of cedarwood.

Without hesitation, she gripped his hand firmly, desperate to hold onto the last spark of hope. "Evan, I twisted my ankle too."

Evan remained silent, his gaze locked on hers. "Evan!" Celine called out from behind.

Rosalie refused to look away, her grip steady and unyielding.

"Mr. Herman will take you to the infirmary," Evan said curtly, pulling his hand free. Without looking back, he pushed Celine's wheelchair and walked away.

Joseph returned, accompanied by two female students. Rosalie sat on a stone bench, her face as pale as paper as she stared down at the ground. Evan's black coat lay discarded beside her.

Recognizing the coat, Joseph picked it up and followed them toward the infirmary. He couldn't resist scolding Rosalie for being so careless.

Deep down, he didn't believe Rosalie would ever hurt anyone intentionally. Still, with someone important to Evan injured under her watch, the consequences were inevitable.

The possibility of securing the library donation was now all but lost.

Beneath his grumbling, Joseph had a soft heart. Seeing Rosalie lean heavily on the two students, he finally grew quiet.

After examining Rosalie, the campus doctor confirmed it was just a mild ankle sprain. Ice packs and some topical medication would do the trick.

Rosalie sat quietly, icing her ankle. About half an hour later, Madison Lindth arrived to take her back to her dorm at the research base.

As soon as Madison sat down, she handed Rosalie a business card. "This lawyer is the best in the business. Mention my name, and you'll get 20% off your consultation."

Rosalie's eyes were dull and empty. She said nothing.

With a sigh, Madison tapped her forehead. "You've certainly got enough patience to win a Nobel Peace Prize."

"Did you change your perfume?" Rosalie blurted out suddenly.

"Don't change the subject. I knew you couldn't let go of that scumbag!"

"No, it's just... your new perfume is a bit overpowering," Rosalie murmured, the scent making her feel slightly queasy.

"How can you be tired of me and not that scumbag? Seriously, being around him has made you toxic. Just look at what he's done to you."

Enraged, Madison stormed off toward the law firm.

That evening, Rosalie's phone rang. It was Evan.

"Did you move into the base?"

Rosalie wasn't sure if she felt more hurt or angry. "No, I moved to outer space."

"Wow, your phone must be something special to get a signal way out there," Evan said. The faint sound of a car door shutting in the background could be heard. "I didn't think my little kitten would be off exploring the universe without me. Next time, bring me along. I want to see the stars too."

That was just Evan's style. Whenever Rosalie got upset, he'd steer the conversation somewhere completely off-topic. After she told him how exasperating he was, he'd start talking about a cute stray cat he'd come across. Somehow, he always found a way to melt her anger away with his words.

Rosalie paused for a few seconds before hanging up.

Moments later, her phone buzzed with a new message. "The signal out in space must be weak. Come back to Earth with me."

She stared down at the screen.

"Open the door, little kitten."

Chapter 5

Rosalie flinched, her eyes turning toward the door. After a brief pause, she dismissed the thought. Wasn't Evan supposed to be at the hospital with his "delicate princess"? Why would he be here looking for her?

"Open the door, little kitten."

Evan's deep, low voice came from just outside, followed by two firm knocks. "I know you're in there. I bribed the security guard with a pack of cigarettes. He's my inside man."

Rosalie was momentarily speechless.

She hopped on one foot and cracked the door open, refusing to let him in. Her expression was icy as she asked, "What do you want?"

Evan crouched and rolled up the leg of her pants. "Did you apply any medication?"

"That's none of your business," Rosalie snapped, trying to pull her foot away. Without warning, he swept her up into his arms.

Rosalie was furious. She lifted her hand to strike, but Evan merely clicked his tongue. "Please, don't hit my face. One more slap and I'll be scarred for life."

Her pale fingers brushed past his cheek and landed hard against his neck.

Evan glanced at her. "That must've hurt your hand, didn't it?"

It did sting a bit. His neck was as hard as stone. Still, Rosalie remained stubborn, trying to break free.

Evan gave her a smack on the butt. "Hold still. If you go down again, your other leg won't stand a chance."

"If it breaks, I'll just use a wheelchair. It's not like I need you anyway," Rosalie retorted.

Speaking of wheelchairs, she couldn't hold back her anger. "Why don't you go carry your precious first love? You've already had your arms around her. Don't you dare touch me now!"

"She may be in a wheelchair, but she doesn't have the same privileges as you."

With that, Evan opened the car door and placed her in the front passenger seat. Refusing to give in, Rosalie used her good leg to kick him. "Where are you taking me?"

Evan calmly caught her leg, holding it down like he was handling a feisty kitten.

"You've got plenty of strength when you're hitting and clawing at me. But the second we get in bed, you turn into jelly. Maybe save some of that fire for when it actually counts. Give me a break sometime."

Rosalie stared at him, completely stunned.

Evan slid into the driver's seat and said, "Grandma says she misses you. She wants us home for dinner."

Rosalie looked away, keeping silent.

…

Evan's grandmother, Eleanor Thorpe, had been waiting anxiously at the door. As soon as she spotted them from a distance, she rushed forward to greet them.

"You finally made it! I prepared a whole spread of your favorite dishes. The timing couldn't be better. Wait, Evan, what happened to your forehead?"

Rosalie hadn't imagined a small tissue box could leave such a mark. The bruise on Evan's forehead had persisted for days, stubbornly refusing to fade.

Eleanor's face tightened with worry. "Oh my, who did this to you?"

Evan glanced down at Rosalie in his arms, a playful smirk curling his lips. "I was attacked by a very aggressive cat."

"Don't be ridiculous. A cat wouldn't leave a mark like that—" Eleanor's words caught in her throat, her tone shifting. "Don't tell me you were bothering some poor animal again. Have you forgotten when a dog nearly took a chunk out of your leg?"

Evan's face darkened immediately. He quickly covered Eleanor's mouth and shouted, "Grandma's having an episode. Someone get her medicine!"

Eleanor battled dementia. Some days, her mind was clear and focused, while other days left her lost and disoriented. It was always a matter of chance.

The housekeeper hurried off to get Eleanor's medication, and Evan contacted the family doctor to come and examine her. While he was at it, Evan also asked the doctor to take a look at Rosalie's ankle.

The doctor concluded it was nothing serious. A few days of rest would be enough for her to recover.

After taking her medicine, Eleanor was still somewhat confused. She ate like a child, spilling food everywhere. Rosalie sat patiently beside her, helping to tidy up.

Once the meal was over, Evan stepped outside for a smoke. Eleanor suddenly leaned in close and whispered, "Rosie, you better hurry and give me a great-grandchild. I've got a whole estate of properties and shops waiting. It'll all be theirs one day!"

A surge of warmth and sadness filled Rosalie's heart. "Eleanor… I don't know if I'll ever get that chance."

Since Celine returned from abroad, the foundations of her world felt shaky.

"Why not? Is Evan not up to it in bed?"

Rosalie's voice caught. "It's not that... it's just... Celine's back."

"That cripple?" Eleanor slapped her thigh. "What's there to fear? You've got all your limbs. Can't you handle her?"

"Handle who?"

Evan stepped inside, catching the last part of Eleanor's blunt comment.

"Your precious darling, of course," Rosalie shot back.

Evan's lips curved into a smile as he met her gaze. "What did you do to make Grandma want to take you out?"

His words were like a double-edged sword. When he was cheerful, his charm was irresistible. But when provoked, his sharp tongue spared no one.

Sticking to her usual routine, Eleanor went to bed early.

Just as Evan stepped outside holding Rosalie in his arms, he abruptly stopped beneath an apple tree.

"Help me pick an apple."

Rosalie frowned, wondering why he suddenly wanted an apple. But as Evan lifted her up, she reached out and picked one. "Do you want to try it?" she asked.

Without a word, Evan walked to the car with her in his arms. His sleek leather shoes cut through a shallow puddle.

Noticing them coming, Alan quickly opened the door.

Evan slid into the driver's seat and nodded toward the apple in her hand. "Take a bite. See if it's sweet."

"It's not washed. I'm not eating it." Rosalie glanced at him as he started the car. "So, where are we going?"

"To make up for your birthday."

So… he hadn't forgotten.

The disappointment and resentment she'd been carrying started to fade. Rosalie's nose tingled, her tears on the verge of spilling over.

In that moment, an overwhelming wave of emotion engulfed her. The only thing she could think of was lashing out at him. She longed for him to feel the weight of the heartbreak she had silently shouldered over the past few days.

At that moment, Evan's phone rang.

Silence filled the car, amplifying the voice on the line with startling clarity.

Rosalie listened as Celine's delicate voice came through, laced with a heartbreaking sob.

When the call ended, Evan pulled at his tie, his frustration barely contained. He turned to Rosalie. "Mr. Dover will take you back. I've got something to take care of."

Without another word, he stepped out and drove off in a different car.

Rosalie gazed absentmindedly at the taillights disappearing into the distance. It wasn't until Alan gently nudged her to buckle up that she snapped out of her trance.

"Take me to the research base at Juville Institute of Technology," she said.

After fastening her seatbelt, Rosalie noticed the apple still resting in her hand.

She stared at it quietly, wondering what it was supposed to mean.

Was Evan really hoping to mend things with just an apple?

Before she could even take a bite, the pain inside her flared anew.

She rolled down the window. The cold night wind rushed in, tearing at her cheeks like sharp knives.

Without a second thought, she tossed the apple out.

The round fruit bounced along before splashing into a puddle nearby.

Sensing her mood, Alan switched on the radio, filling the quiet night with music.

From the speakers came sorrowful ballads that pulled at the heartstrings.

"The sight of your back fades from my eyes.

"Those sweet memories have shattered into pieces.

"I stand where you left me, unable to hold on to what we once had."

Alan realized too late that he had only made things worse. Flushed with embarrassment, he quickly turned off the radio.

The music faded, but the dam of emotions had already broken.

Rosalie's eyes grew red, the sharp sting in her nose intensifying with each breath. Tears quivered at the edge of her lashes, on the verge of falling.

She knew she couldn't let herself cry.

After all, Alan was right there beside her. She didn't want to seem weak or make a scene.

Hoping to take her mind off things, she reached for her phone to check the news. As she pulled it out, a business card fell onto her lap.

It was the divorce lawyer's card Madison had handed her earlier.

Rosalie blinked through her tears, staring at the printed number.

After a long moment, she opened WhatsApp and began typing the number.