From Terrorist Cell to Diamond Prison

Chapter 8

Rosalie spent the afternoon gathering her clothes and childhood stuffed animals, carefully folding each one as she packed them into boxes for donation. At one point, Luke had dedicated an entire floor of the house to her wardrobe, saying the memories of growing up were worth treasuring.

Now, as she sifted through each piece of clothing and the thoughtful gifts he'd given her over the years, she realized the past hadn't been fake. It had been real, back when he was still the man who cared. But people change.

By the time she was done, a moving truck sat full with the artifacts of a decade.

The volunteer accepting the donation handed her a small souvenir.

"Thanks for giving back," the woman said with a warm smile.

Rosalie offered a polite smile in return. She didn't feel like she'd done anything special. From her first year in Florida, Luke had set up a charity foundation in her name. She used to visit orphanages often, always feeling a deep bond with the children there. Luke's generosity had once made her feel safe. Protected.

But now she knew, true safety didn't come from someone else. It came from within.

Just as the truck rumbled off, Luke pulled up and parked at the curb, eyes flicking to the load of boxes.

"What's all this?" he asked, brow raised.

Rosalie stood in the doorway, her voice calm.

"Just getting rid of some things I don't need. Thought I'd clear out a little."

Luke looked mildly suspicious but didn't question her further.

"Well, with the engagement party around the corner, I suppose it's the right time to replace the old with the new."

His attention stayed fixed on his phone. He barely looked at her.

As he prepared to drive off, he rolled down his window.

"Don't forget Fiona's art exhibition tomorrow. Considering that little perfume incident was partly your fault, you should take the chance to apologize to your aunt."

Rosalie nodded without emotion.

Her silence threw him off. He'd expected resistance. Defensiveness. But she didn't argue.

"You're finally maturing, Rosalie," he said, sounding almost proud. "It's time to grow up. You'll be living with Fiona soon, learn to get along."

She watched him drive away, his words echoing in the back of her mind. He didn't know it yet, but he wouldn't have to deal with her much longer.

Old things were being replaced. And old people, too.

,

The next day, Rosalie returned to her university to finish organizing her graduation paperwork. All that remained was to pick up the original copy of her final project.

But when she reached her professor's office, she was met with an unexpected surprise.

"Oh, your project's already been collected," the professor told her. "A man came by yesterday. Said he was Luke Williams. Didn't you know?"

Rosalie's heart skipped.

Luke had never shown the slightest interest in her academic life. He hadn't even come to her graduation. So why now?

His comment from the day before came rushing back, Fiona's exhibition.

A wave of unease hit her.

,

By the time Rosalie arrived at the art gallery, the event was already in full swing. The venue buzzed with chatter, camera flashes, and the hum of luxury cars outside. Thanks to Luke's backing, Fiona's show was the talk of the town.

Rosalie ignored the glitz and made her way inside, scanning the crowd with quiet determination.

She found him standing beside Fiona, effortlessly charming a group of well-dressed guests.

One of them laughed, drink in hand.

"Mr. Williams, you're lucky. We all thought that Rosalie girl would be clinging to you forever."

Luke gave a casual, practiced smile.

"You're too kind. Rosalie's just a child I raised. That's all."

Rosalie had expected it. That exact line. But hearing it out loud, seeing him and Fiona together, playing the perfect couple, it still pierced deeper than she'd imagined.

Taking a steady breath, she stepped forward and looked Luke straight in the eye.

"Where is my painting?"