Now Miss Rosaline!

Chapter 6:

ROSALIE'S POV~

~THREE YEARS LATER~

I snapped my eyes open as the plane landed on the runway, my Hermes Birkin Bag clutched tightly in my grip. My gaze was cold and calculated, taking in every detail of the scene around me. The private jet's door opened and a swarm of flight attendants rushed to gather my bags, while I descended the stairs with slow steps.

 Every fiber of my being was on high alert. Everything had changed since I'd last been here. The cityscape, the air, the atmosphere—everything felt different.

"Welcome ma'am, Mr. Montgomery wanted to know if you enjoyed the flight in his new jet," a bodyguard said.

I turned to face him, my lips curling into a small, cold smile. "Mr. Montgomery is quite generous," I replied. The guard nodded and gestured for me to follow, tapping his earpiece as we walked.

Three years had passed since Ezra had sent me away abroad to study further, offering to pay for everything I needed to rebuild my life, return back home and manage one of his company branches. And I had rebuilt it, on a foundation of anger and determination.

 But coming back to this place where my darkest memories lay dormant was like walking into a lions' den. I hadn't forgotten the wrongs done to me—not by Damien, nor by his mistress. And now, finally, I was ready to make them pay.

The moment I stepped foot outside the airport, a fleet of sleek, black luxury calls pulled up in front of me, ready to take me to my destination. 

Several bodyguards surrounded me, their presence a silent warning to any would-be intruders. Just like I expected, a swarm of reporters descended upon me like vultures circling a fresh kill. Their cameras flashed incessantly, blinding me as I tried to make my way to the car.

"Miss Rosaline! Miss Rosaline!" They shouted in unison, trying to get my attention, but I kept my head down, refusing to acknowledge them. I could hear their questions over the clicking of cameras.

"Miss Rosaline, Mr. Damien says you were cheating on him!" one woman shouted, holding up her microphone.

"Is it true that you stole money from his company?" another reporter cried out, shoving his way to the front of the crowd.

"Rosaline, is it true that you only married Damien for his money?" a third reporter yelled, attempting to snap a picture of me.

"Mr. Damien says you abandoned him! Is that true, fleeing abroad after you have achieved your cruel goals?"

I stopped in my tracks, my eyes narrowing as I stared daggers at the woman who dared to shout that question at me. In the distance, I saw my bodyguards pushing the reporters back, creating a safe barrier around me.

I ignored the cameras, the questions, everything except for the woman who dared to slander my name.

 "Damien Wyatt," I spat, my voice as cold as the ice that had taken residence in my heart. "If you're watching this, if you're hiding somewhere, know this: I'm back, and I'm not going anywhere."

I turned my back on the reporters, refusing to give them any more satisfaction. But the anger was still coursing through my veins, a fire that I couldn't seem to douse.

The door of my car opened, and I slid into the backseat, the rich leather seats cradling me as the engine purred to life. But even as the car pulled away from the airport, the voices of the reporters still echoed in my mind.

"I'm not going anywhere," I whispered to myself, my fists clenched. "And neither are you, Damien Wyatt.

~                      ~                       ~

The sleek vehicles slid to a stop at the grand entrance of the hotel. Bodyguards jumped out, forming a protective shield around me as I rushed up to my suite. Inside, a stunning evening gown awaited me on the bed. Slipping into it, I checked my reflection in the mirror. Perfect.

My hands gently glide over my smooth stomach, the moment I pulled up the gown, thanks to the surgeries that had erased both the physical scars of my forced abortion and the internal scars it left behind. 

I stared into the mirror, noting how the exquisite gown accentuated my curves, transforming me into a vision of grace. But behind the elegance lied a deep sorrow.

I imagined how my child's first smile, and first laugh would have been. Today, on what would have been my child's birthday, I would have baked the largest cake to celebrate it. My eyes burned but I inhaled sharply, not wanting my tears to fall. If anyone was to cry today? It would be Damien and his mistress. 

~                        ~                           ~

Deep murmurs and appreciative whispers followed me like a trail of rose petals as I swept through the crowded hall.

"She looks stunning," I heard a voice say, and the corners of my mouth curled upwards in a subtle, knowing smirk. 

The stares of powerful men and women were like static electricity, crackling with intrigue as they assessed my luxurious dress and flawless skin. For once, I wasn't pretending to be a good, docile trophy wife to please the crowd.

No more pretending, no more subservience. Today, I was the villainess—and I would wear my title with pride. 

Damien had probably spun his own version of events, painting me as the heartless woman who'd abandoned him, but I was done playing the good girl. 

I relished the whispers, the shock on their faces, and the sting of their judgement. For once, it felt good to be feared.

I continued my slow march towards Ezra, ignoring the chorus of whispers that rose around me. He stood at the center of a ring of entrepreneurs who wanted to be acquainted with him, his back turned, oblivious to my approach, making my smirk grow in satisfaction.

The world seemed to pause as the people around Ezra turned to face me. My breath caught in my throat, my heart pounding. 

There he was, my ex- husband’s business rival, the man who had helped to reshape my withered destiny, standing before me, a picture of devastatingly handsome charm. He wore his power like a second skin, a shark-like grin spreading across his face as he spread his arms wide. “My dear Rosaline,” he purred.

A flurry of camera flashes exploded around us, but I paid them no heed.

I glided closer to him determined to embrace him, only for his arms to drop and his fingers to curl around my hands. He pressed a kiss to the back of each hand, his lips warm against my skin. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes raking over my form. “So gorgeous, my darling.”

A smile danced on my lips, pleasure coursing through my veins as I relished the adoration pouring from his gaze.

Suddenly, a movement in my periphery caught my eye. My gaze darted to the source, and I felt my eyebrow arch upwards in surprise. Damien, stood off to the side, watching our exchange with a slack-jawed expression of shock. 

The corners of my mouth curved upwards into a malicious smirk, and I leaned in to press a soft kiss against Ezra’s cheek, sending a satisfied rumble through his chest.

“And you're nothing short of alluring, Ezra Montgomery." I leaned away and he chuckled deeply, then his hands moved to encircle my waist. 

“Time to introduce you to everyone in my world, my dear Rosa." 

~                     ~                             ~

The International Trade Expo project was over, everywhere hummed with chatter and excitement. Ezra’s companies had won over 50 contracts, his joy palpable in the way he chuckled and grinned like a child with a new toy. He grasped my waist, leading me through the throng of entrepreneurs and reporters.

His bodyguards pushed back the nosiest reporters, parting the crowd. I flashed him a small smile as he tilted my jaw up, his eyes searching mine. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah, I am,” I murmured.

 With a gentle tug, he pulled me closer, his masculine scent enveloping me. My heart skipped a beat, thudding against my rib cage as I fought to maintain composure.

“Get the cars ready, we’re ready to leave,” Ezra called to his men. He opened the car door for me, his hand positioned protectively over the roof.

 Ezra’s gesture awakened a pang of emotion within me. In all our years of marriage, Damien had never treated me with such tenderness, such basic respect. Those memories stung like a knife in my side, a wound that had never truly healed. And now that I’d shattered the marriage, I could finally breathe.

As I was about to slide into the car, the unmistakable voice I’d hoped never to hear again rang out. 

“Rosaline?” Damien growled, his face flushed and his eyes blazing.

My head snapped around, my body tensing in response to the sight of him. “What are you doing? We need to speak!” he demanded, his jaw clenched in a viselike grip. The sight of him set fire to my blood, a dark rage burning away any shred of civility that remained.

Before I could form a response, Ezra moved in front of me, shielding me from Damien’s gaze. He took a step forward. “Do you want something, Mr. Damien?” he asked. “If you wish to speak to my woman, you’ll have to go through me.”

The two men stared each other down, the air between them charged with animosity. Everywhere turned silent.