After getting discharged from the hospital and coming home, Rosalie started sorting through her things. She needed to pack up before she left.

The cardboard boxes were filled with years of memories. She had written Brandon 101 love letters, pouring her heart out to him. In return, he'd only ever sent three replies, but she had cherished every single one.

And then there was the saint pendant he'd given her. She'd once mentioned how much she loved the one he wore, and though he wouldn't part with his own, he had a matching one made just for her. Sure, hers was smaller, but just wearing a pendant like his had made her happy back then.

Now, though, she knew the truth. He was only wearing his for Nina's sake. And Rosalie wanted no part of it.

"You're throwing out the saint pendant I gave you?"

Brandon's voice snapped Rosalie out of her thoughts.

She looked up, startled. She hadn't even heard him come in. Now, he stood there with furrowed brows, staring at the cardboard boxes she'd been filling with discarded things.

"I don't want it," Rosalie said flatly.

"Why?" A flicker of surprise crossed his face as he took a step closer. "What's wrong with you all of a sudden?"

Rosalie let out a hollow laugh. Of course, he had no idea why she was upset. His attention had always been fixed on Nina. As for Rosalie? She was just a useful smokescreen for what he really had with Nina.

"Rosalie, you're not a kid anymore. Stop getting worked up over nothing." Brandon sat down beside her. "You can't just throw these away. I gave them to you. You should take care of them. I'll get you new ones if you don't like them anymore. We can go pick out different ones right now."

This was just like him. Worried that his precious smokescreen might disappear, he'd throw her scraps of affection now and then, just enough to keep her hooked. And every time, Rosalie had taken them, savoring them. Even now, she hesitated.

Just then, Brandon's secretary, Trent Crowley, burst into the room, frantic. "Mr. Searle, something terrible has happened! It's about Ms. Monroe!"

Photos from Nina's private party had been leaked online. They showed her half-dressed and pressed up against a group of male escorts. She was even sitting on one's lap in some of the photos. Her behavior was shockingly inappropriate.

Brandon stared at the photos, shock and anger coursing through him until his phone rang.

It was Nina, her voice choked with tears. "Brandon, those photos aren't what they seem. Someone drugged me. This was all a setup by our rivals! I swear, I didn't do any of this!"

With just a few words, Brandon believed her.

She had been drugged. There was nothing she could've done. But now, he was left cleaning up her mess. The photos had already spread too far to be pulled back.

After a brief pause, Brandon turned to Rosalie. "I'll hold a press conference. You'll take the blame for Nina. We'll say it's you in the photos. That should clear her name."

Rosalie went still, and her voice cracked with disbelief. "Nina's reputation matters, but mine is disposable?"

Brandon frowned. "My dad hasn't even been gone that long. If this gets out, it won't just ruin her reputation. It'll damage the Searles' reputation too. But you're different. You don't have to worry about status. A quick statement from you is all it'd take to stop the bad press."

"But I'm a Lardner! Doing this will destroy my parents' reputation!"

Brandon barely let her finish. "Do this for me, and I'll make it up to you. Rosalie, trust me. We'll have a good life together."

Without another word, he shot Trent a sharp look.

Trent called the guards. They gripped Rosalie by the shoulders, escorting her to the press conference venue against her will.

The press conference had been thrown together at the last minute, and Rosalie was practically shoved in front of the reporters and cameras for photos and a live broadcast. Reporters thrust the photos in the air, demanding answers.

"Mr. Searle just released new information. Ms. Lardner, isn't this you in the photos with the blindfold?"

"Did you frame Ms. Monroe for hiring escorts just because the Lardners and the Searles are sworn enemies?"

"Ms. Lardner, answer the question! Is that you in the photo or not?"

Rosalie clenched her jaw. The humiliation was unbearable. Why did she have to take the fall for Nina's ruined reputation? Why did she have to endure everyone's judgment? Just because Brandon didn't love her, did that give him the right to wreck her life?

Rosalie couldn't swallow this injustice and shouted, "It wasn't me!"

The reporters flinched, exchanging startled looks.

Before Rosalie could say another word, Brandon and Nina stepped into the venue.

The reporters quickly turned their cameras on the pair as they fired off questions.

"Mr. Searle, Ms. Monroe, can you confirm who this person is in the photos?"

Brandon stayed silent, his expression darkening.

Nina's tears streamed down her face as she whispered, "It's Ms. Lardner. The Lardners have always hated the Searles. Now that Declan's gone, they're trying to ruin my reputation—"

Rosalie couldn't hold back any longer. She burst out, "That's a lie! You were the one who framed me!"

But then Nina glanced at the escort standing beside her. It was one of the men from the photos.

The escort spoke up, addressing the reporters, "I can confirm it was Ms. Lardner that night. She dressed just like Ms. Monroe on purpose, hired all eight of us, and spent the whole night getting wild with all of us. She even said that her goal was to humiliate Ms. Monroe while the family was still mourning Mr. Declan Searle's death."

The room erupted into chaos as cameras snapped back to Rosalie. Reporters yelled over one another.

"Ms. Lardner, do you have any response to these allegations?"

"How can you still frame Ms. Monroe with witnesses and evidence right before you?"

"Aren't you worried about tarnishing the Lardners' reputation?"

The questions pounded into Rosalie like relentless waves. Fear coiled in her chest as she kept shaking her head, muttering, "It's not me... The woman in the photos isn't me!"

But no one was listening.

Just then, Nina slithered over, oozing fake sympathy. "Rosalie, just admit your mistake. Everyone will forgive you if you apologize."

Mistake? What had she even done wrong? Why should she be the one to apologize?

A split second later, a shadowy figure lunged at Rosalie and Nina.

He yanked open a bottle and flung its contents straight at their faces, snarling, "It hasn't even been a year since Declan's death, and you're already out there whoring around? I'll ruin your face for him!"

The bottle was filled with sulfuric acid.

Rosalie's eyes flew wide with horror, just in time to see Brandon charging toward them. As the acid splashed through the air, he threw his arms around Nina, shielding her as they hit the floor.

The liquid splashed across Rosalie's hand, instantly searing her entire left arm. The flesh burned, nearly rotting on contact.

Security tackled the assailant. It turned out to be an old friend of Declan's. Furious over what he had seen online, he'd come for revenge.

Rosalie knelt on the floor, tears streaking her face as pain wracked her body. When she lifted her head, she saw Brandon steadying a shaken Nina, helping her up.

"Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" he asked, his voice thick with worry.

Nina gave a slight shake of her head. "I'm fine. But you! That was sulfuric acid! If it had hit you, it could've been… How could you risk your life like that for me?"

Yet the only one truly hurt was Rosalie. Her heart shattered as she watched Brandon standing protectively beside Nina. Whatever love she still had for him finally burned out.

He didn't care about her reputation. He didn't even care if she lived or died. She swore to herself that she'd never suffer for him again.

Rosalie gritted her teeth, her tears spilling over. Her vision blurred, then darkened completely as her legs gave way and she crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Rosalie spent the next two days in the hospital. Her left hand was swathed in gauze, the severe burns beneath sending sharp pulses of pain through her with every movement, forcing her to stay still and cautious.

Meanwhile, Brandon was swamped with the fallout from the press conference. He didn't have time to visit, so he sent her bouquets—roses and baby's breath, the same flowers she had loved back in college.

But the truth was, she had only ever liked them because Brandon liked them. And Brandon's preference? That came from Nina, who always wore the scent of roses.

Rosalie stared at the vibrant roses, thinking that no matter how beautiful they were, they had never truly been hers. It was time to let them go.

On the third day, which was also her birthday, her immigration paperwork finally arrived. She left the hospital and headed home to gather her things.

Brandon wasn't there. The maid told her he hadn't come back in days.

But Rosalie didn't care anymore. She slid off her wedding ring, set it on the bedside table, and wheeled her suitcase out of the Searle residence.

The moment she stepped outside, Nina got out of a car, smiling at her. "I knew you'd be leaving today, so I came to say goodbye."

Rosalie's eyes flashed with resentment as she strode toward Nina, her expression darkening. "Congratulations, Nina. You've won, and what a glorious victory it is. The signed divorce agreement will be delivered to Brandon today. Once he signs it, our marriage is over.

"Now, there's nothing left standing in your way. He won't have to play the chaste martyr for you anymore. You two can do whatever you want. And I hope you both stay out of my life for good. This marriage will stay buried, like it never existed. The Lardners and the Searles will go right back to being sworn enemies."

Rosalie gave a scornful laugh and brushed past Nina without a second glance.

Nina called after her, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "Thanks for knowing your place and giving him back to me."

Rosalie stiffened, her breath catching. She bit down hard on her lip before stepping into a cab.

As her cab pulled away, she spotted Brandon's Bentley approaching. The two cars passed each other, heading in opposite directions.

Through the window, Rosalie caught a glimpse of Brandon, but he didn't see her. He sped straight into the Searle residence.

Rosalie slowly turned her face away. Instead of sweet memories with Brandon, all that flashed through her mind were scenes of him chasing after Nina.

When Declan accused Nina of seeing another man, Brandon had begged for mercy on her behalf. He took the lashes meant for her and knelt in the pouring rain all night. When Nina had acute gastroenteritis, Brandon abandoned Rosalie—who was lying in the hospital after minor surgery—just to rush to Nina's side.

Even Rosalie's birthdays hadn't been spared. Every year, he had walked out the moment Nina called.

Rosalie let out a bitter laugh. Then, before she could stop them, tears spilled down her cheeks. She swore this would be the last time she cried over Brandon.

This year, she wouldn't waste a single hope of him showing up for her birthday. She was done putting up with his half-hearted companionship.

Just then, her phone buzzed. A message from Brandon appeared.

"It's your birthday today. Did you use the key I gave you to check the wardrobe in the walk-in closet? There's a surprise waiting for you."

Rosalie didn't reply. She wiped her tears away, blocked Brandon's number, and erased every trace of him from her contacts. Then, she pulled out the SIM card and snapped it in half.

The cab dropped her off at the airport, and she made her way to the departure gate. She looked up at the clear blue sky. The sunlight seemed brighter than usual today.

Rosalie took a deep breath, savoring her hard-won freedom.

"Goodbye, Brandon. Let's not cross paths again," she thought.