Chapter 30

Alexander was deeply engrossed in conversation with Charlotte, laughing and smiling warmly, when Roselyn's voice cut through the air, its sharp tone slicing through the warmth of the evening.

"I thought you might be finalizing some business deal with some elderly businessman in a sterile meeting room, not indulging in wine and laughter with a beautiful stranger," Roselyn said, her voice laced with sarcasm, hurt, and a hint of betrayal.

Alexander's eyes snapped toward Roselyn, surprise etched on his face, his expression a mixture of guilt and unease. "Roselyn!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with guilt and embarrassment.

His gaze shifted to Tyler, standing beside Roselyn, and his expression darkened, his brow furrowed in concern.

Charlotte, sensing tension, turned to Roselyn, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Excuse me, who are you, and what exactly is the meaning of this interruption?" She asked, her voice polished but chilly, with a hint of annoyance.

Ignoring Charlotte's question, Roselyn's words dripped with venom and hurt. "But here Alexander Valtor is, sitting in a beautiful bar with a stunning girl, holding each other's hand and savoring the famous wine of Paris, utterly carefree and unencumbered."

Alexander's face flushed with embarrassment. "What are you doing here, Roselyn? I thought you were out with Tyler, exploring the city," he demanded, his tone firm but laced with defensiveness.

Roselyn's smile was bitter, her eyes brimming with tears. "Don't worry, I'm not stalking you, Alexander. We stumbled upon this place by mistake. Sorry to spoil your intimate date. You continue with your business meeting, or whatever this is," she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

Charlotte's eyes narrowed, her expression incredulous. "Excuse me, who are you, and what nonsense are you spewing? This is none of your concern," she snapped.

Roselyn's glare was icy, her voice firm. "I am the wife of the man whose hand you are holding, and I have every right to be concerned," she declared loudly, her voice echoing through the bar, drawing attention from nearby patrons.

Heads turned, and the surrounding crowd began to stare, their faces a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Tyler intervened, his voice calm and soothing. "Roselyn, let's leave now and discuss this privately. We don't want to make a scene.

Alexander's warning was low and urgent; his eyes locked on Roselyn's. "Don't make a scene, Roselyn. We can talk later, in private. This isn't the time or place."

Roselyn's laughter was laced with pain and desperation. "What's left to talk about later, Alexander? You've made your priorities clear," she said, her voice cracking.

Charlotte's expression turned superior, her voice dripping with malice. "Look, you're clearly unstable and have no idea how to conduct yourself in public. Now I understand why your married life isn't going well."

In a flash, Roselyn snatched a wine glass and hurled it at Charlotte, her anger and hurt boiling over. Alexander intervened, catching Roselyn's wrist, and the wine spilled across his chest, staining his crisp white shirt.

His eyes blazed with anger and frustration.

Tyler swiftly dragged Roselyn outside, away from the escalating confrontation, into the cool Parisian night, where the city's romantic allure seemed cruelly ironic.

As they emerged into the night air, Roselyn's tears burst forth, mingling with her rage and hurt, her sobs echoing through the night.

Tyler's calm voice soothed her. "Let's get out of here, Roselyn."

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Tyler's expression was stern as he entered the hotel room. "Roselyn, you shouldn't have done that. It was unnecessary and embarrassing."

Roselyn's defiance was palpable. "I didn't do anything wrong. He's my husband, and he was flaunting his interest in another woman."

The door burst open, and Alexander stormed in, his face thunderous. His gaze locked onto Tyler.

"Leave us alone," Alexander growled, his voice low and menacing. "I need to talk to my wife."

Tyler nodded silently and departed, leaving the combustible atmosphere to unfold.

Alexander's anger was palpable force as he approached Roselyn. He grasped her shoulders, spinning her toward the wall, and pinned her against it.

His face inches from hers, and Alexander's voice seethed with fury. "What do you think of yourself, huh? Causing a scene, embarrassing me in public, and humiliating Charlotte?"

Roselyn's eyes flashed defiance. "You're hurt because I threw wine on your ex."

Alexander's grip tightened. "How did you...?"

Roselyn's smile was laced with venom. "Oh, come on, Alexander. Who doesn't know about your history with Charlotte? Your little rendezvous wasn't subtle."

Alexander's expression softened slightly, his tone placating. "Look, Roselyn, I was with her; it's just...we're friends, nothing more. My company has a deal with hers, so we were celebrating. Nothing else."

Roselyn's voice dripped with disdain. "Did I ask you for an explanation?"

Her words hung in the air, a challenge to Alexander's integrity.

Alexander's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. "You're my wife, Roselyn. You have every right to know."

Roselyn's laughter was cold. "Save your breath, Alexander. Your actions speak louder than words."

The tension between them was suffocating—a toxic mix of anger, hurt, and betrayal.

Alexander's grip loosened, his expression softening as he attempted to reason with Roselyn. "Baby, please understand—"

But Roselyn was beyond consolation. She pushed him away, her hands against his chest, her eyes flashing with anger.

"Leave me alone, Alexander," she spat, her voice trembling.

Without another word, Roselyn turned and walked toward the bed, her movements swift and deliberate.

Alexander followed, his footsteps heavy with regret.

As Roselyn reached the bed, she swiftly pulled back the covers and slipped beneath, enveloping herself in the blanket's protective shield.

"Roselyn, please—"

"Go away, Alexander," she whispered, her voice muffled by the blanket.

Alexander stood beside the bed, his eyes fixed on Roselyn's hidden form. He reached out, hesitated, then retreated.

The silence between them was oppressive, punctuated only by Roselyn's stifled sobs.

Alexander's heart ached, knowing he'd caused her pain. He longed to comfort her, but Roselyn's rejection stung.

With a heavy sigh, Alexander turned and walked away, leaving Roselyn to her tears.

As the door closed behind him, Roselyn's sobs intensified, her body shaking beneath the blanket.

She wept for the love they once shared, for the betrayal, and for the shattered dreams.

In the darkness, Roselyn's tears fell unchecked, a testament to the fissures in their crumbling marriage.

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Morning light streamed through the window, illuminating Alexander's somber expression as he stared at his phone, his thoughts still reeling from the previous night's confrontation.

Charlotte's call pierced the silence, her melodious voice a stark contrast to the tension lingering in the air, its warmth and familiarity a jarring reminder of his complicated relationships.

"Alexander, is everything okay between you and Roselyn?" Charlotte asked, concern etching her tone, her words laced with genuine interest.

Alexander hesitated, weighing his words carefully, unsure how much to reveal. "Yes, everything's fine, Charlotte. Just a minor misunderstanding, nothing to worry about."

"Good," Charlotte said, relief evident in her voice, her sigh almost audible. "I was worried about how last night ended, about the scene Roselyn made."

Alexander's guilt surged, his conscience pricking him. "No, Charlotte, I'm the one who should apologize. Roselyn's behavior was unacceptable, and I'm truly sorry."

Charlotte's tone remained gracious, her understanding palpable. "Please, Alexander, don't apologize. She's your wife; her reaction was natural, given the circumstances. It's not her fault."

Alexander's eyes narrowed, intrigued by Charlotte's empathy and insight. "You're very gracious, Charlotte, considering the embarrassment Roselyn caused."

"I'm a realist, Alexander," Charlotte replied, her voice measured. "I understand the complexities of relationships and the nuances of human emotions. Now, I'm calling for a reason. My family's legacy company is celebrating its 100th anniversary, a milestone event, and I need you to attend with your wife."

Alexander's mind raced; he hadn't spoken to Roselyn since their argument, and asking her to accompany him seemed daunting, almost impossible. Yet he knew he couldn't decline.

"I wouldn't normally ask, but Father's legacy...it's important," Charlotte continued, her voice filled with conviction. "Plus, this event will solidify our business partnership and cement our collaboration."

Alexander knew he couldn't refuse. "Of course, Charlotte. We'll be there, no matter what."

Charlotte's delight was palpable, her enthusiasm infectious. "Wonderful! I'll send over the details. Looking forward to seeing you both."

As Alexander ended the call, he turned to face Roselyn, standing behind him, her expression still etched with hurt and anger, her eyes flashing with unresolved emotion.

Before he could speak, Roselyn's voice cut through the tension, its firmness a shield against her vulnerability. "I want to go back."

Alexander's eyes searched hers, seeking clarification, hoping for a glimmer of understanding. "Back where, Roselyn? Home? Are you ready to talk about what happened?"

Roselyn's nod was curt, her jaw set. "Yes. I've had enough of Paris, enough of this trip, and enough of you."

Alexander's thoughts swirled, unsure how to broach the topic of Charlotte's event, uncertain how to bridge the chasm between them. He knew Roselyn's anger wouldn't dissipate easily.

"Roselyn, we need to talk."

"Not now, Alexander," she interrupted, her voice firm, her walls firmly in place. "Just arrange for my return. I'm tired of this trip, tired of your excuses, and tired of you."

Alexander's eyes locked onto Roselyn's retreating form, his mind racing with the implications of Charlotte's event and the potential damage Roselyn's absence could inflict on his reputation.

"Roselyn, wait," Alexander called out, his voice laced with urgency and a hint of desperation. "I need you to attend this event with me; it's essential for my business, for my reputation, and for the future of our family's legacy."

Roselyn paused, her hand on the bedroom door handle, her expression unyielding and unforgiving. "Why should I care about your reputation, Alexander, when you've consistently prioritized your own interests over mine?"

Alexander's frustration simmered, his words tumbling out in a persuasive torrent. "Because, Roselyn, as my wife, your actions reflect on me, and this event is critical; it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to solidify our business partnerships and secure our financial future."

Roselyn's gaze was icy, her voice dripping with disdain. "You're only thinking about yourself, as always, Alexander; your selfishness is staggering. I want to go back home, and I don't need your help or your manipulations."

Alexander's tone turned pleading, his words laced with a hint of desperation. "We can leave together tomorrow, after the event; just this one favor, Roselyn, please; don't let your anger cloud your judgment."

Roselyn's refusal was absolute, her voice firm and resolute. "No, Alexander; Tyler can accompany me everywhere; he can escort me back home; no need for you; I just want to go back and escape the toxic atmosphere you've created."

She stepped into the bedroom, leaving Alexander seething, his anger and frustration boiling over like a pent-up storm.

"I am packing my things," Roselyn declared, her voice muffled by the closing door but still audible, still piercing.

Alexander's anger boiled over, and he hurled his own phone across the room, watching in frustration as it shattered into pieces against the wall.

its fragments scattered like the shattered remains of their relationship.

His fists clenched, Alexander paced the room, his mind reeling with the consequences of Roselyn's refusal, his thoughts consumed by the devastating implications of her rejection.

How could she be so obstinate, so unwilling to support him, so determined to undermine his success?

The shattered phone lay on the floor, a symbol of their fractured relationship, a stark reminder of the chasm that had grown between them.

Alexander's anger slowly gave way to despair, his pacing slowing as the weight of his reality settled upon him.

He stopped pacing, his eyes fixed on the closed bedroom door, his heart heavy with sorrow.

The silence between them was oppressive, a heavy weight that threatened to crush Alexander's resolve and suffocate him beneath its unyielding pressure.

With a deep breath, Alexander steeled himself, determined to find a way to salvage their relationship, to repair the damage before it was too late, to reclaim the love they once shared.

"Why is she being so stubborn? Doesn't she care about my reputation? Can't she see I need her by my side?

What's happened to us? Where did our love go?

I've lost her. I've lost myself.

How can I fix this?

Must find a way to make her understand.

Can't lose everything we've built."

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