Chapter 5

Conrad had been the only one to help Rosalea back then. She couldn't bear the thought of him being hurt. Out of nowhere, Sylvester burst out laughing on the phone. "Vance, it looks like your wife's got a thing for Conrad. You spent two years looking for her, and for what? She's still not yours—" "Shut the hell up!" Vance barked, hanging up the phone. He stormed over to Rosalea, grabbed her wrist, and yanked her off the bed. "Rose isn't doing well. Let her go," Conrad said, stepping in his way. Vance landed a kick on him. Conrad didn't move fast enough and hit the ground hard. The hit was brutal enough to crack a rib. Enraged, Rosalea slapped Vance across the face. "Are you out of your damn mind? Why would you attack him? What did he do to you? You can't just—" Vance scooped her up and started heading downstairs. Rosalea was too weak to really slap him, but he still felt humiliated since it was over Conrad. He swallowed his rage, carried her to the car, and told the driver to head back to Greenstein Manor. The whole way there, she kept begging him not to hurt Conrad. "Pick one. Jessamine or Conrad," Vance said. He knew exactly how to put Rosalea in a bind. No matter who she chose, she'd be turning on the other. Tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn't decide. "You'd better decide fast. Otherwise, Clyde's little factory is done for." With Vance closing in from every side, Rosalea could hardly breathe. She had no choice but to drop to her knees in front of him in the car. "Please, don't hurt them. Take my life if that's what you want. I'll do whatever you ask…" Rosalea pleaded. All she wanted was for Vance, the man she'd once loved with all her heart, to stop being so ruthless with the people around her. She'd already lost it all. The Lovelaces had shut her out. Jessamine wasn't allowed anywhere near her. Even Conrad—the last person who still cared—had been kicked so hard that one of his ribs cracked. Rosalea felt like a walking curse, hurting everyone she came into contact with. She blacked out again. Perhaps it was all just too much for her to handle. … The moment Rosalea woke up, she asked Sandra to find out what was going on with Conrad. When she found out that Sylvester had sent him overseas, she let out a huge sigh of relief. After that, she spent the entire week stuck in bed. Rosalea finally felt well enough to get up and move around that day. The fake rock formation in the garden was gone. The tunnel beneath it had been filled in, and a fresh patch of feather reed grass had been planted there. She sat by the pond, staring blankly at the reflection. That was when Delia showed up. She seemed a lot calmer this time, her face no longer scrunched up with anger. They sat quietly across from each other. Feeling uneasy, Rosalea asked Sandra to bring them some tea. Hoping to lift Delia's spirits, she slid a plate of desserts toward her. "You used to love cherries, Mom. Sandra made these today. Why not try one?" she suggested. Delia's eyes flickered to the cherry pastries, but she didn't seem interested. "After our family went under, your dad got sick and couldn't work. I had to swallow my pride and take a job at a fruit processing plant. To make ends meet, I ate spoiled fruit for three months. "Cherries were a part of that. I haven't been able to stomach them since," Delia said, her voice flat as if she was recounting someone else's story. A wave of guilt hit Rosalea, and her nose started to tingle. She slipped a note into Delia's hand. She was about to say something when Delia continued, "Clyde's factory got off the ground with help from some friends who didn't care about his bad leg. We were finally starting to get back on track. Why do you always have to drag us down?" Rosalea froze. "Did Vance do something to our family again?" she asked quickly. "What's the point of telling you?" Delia shot back, ignoring the note and rummaging through her bag. Panicked, Rosalea shoved it back toward her. "Mom, this is the last thing I can do to help. I hope—" Suddenly, a cry of pain escaped her.