Wesley's restraint unraveled behind Roselyn, a prickling numbness spreading along her scalp as his movement turned rough.

Knowing she was seconds from giving herself away, panic sharpened Roselyn's voice. "Okay, we'll talk later, Kevin. I'll text you the address," she said into the phone, forcing steadiness she didn't feel.

Without waiting for a reply, Roselyn wrenched the phone from Wesley's hand and killed the call, breath hitching as she set it down.

The instant the screen went dark, she twisted hard and tore free, stumbling a step away from Wesley. Heat still burned across her cheeks as she spun back, anger tangled with a thin thread of fear. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" she snapped, her gaze blazing.

A lazy arch of Wesley's brow answered her. Defiance sat easily on his face as he smirked. "So tell me, how did it feel sneaking around with me while Kevin was on the line? Kind of exhilarating, right?"

Closing the distance, he dipped his head toward her ear. Warm breath grazed her skin, his voice dropping into a slow, taunting murmur. "Admit it, Roselyn. You clearly enjoyed it."

Color rushed to Roselyn's cheeks all at once, betraying her sudden shyness. With a sharp turn of her head, she looked away, jaw locked tight, the urge to argue burning in her chest—yet no sound emerged. The truth of his words pressed down on her like a weight, leaving her defenseless.

Suppressing the turbulent emotions in her heart, Roselyn avoided Wesley's gaze and began pulling on her clothes with stiff, hurried movements. "Doing it in Zoinbury is fine," she said flatly, fingers trembling as she fastened her buttons. "No one there knew about us. But this is Radena. Things aren't the same anymore." She paused, breath shallow. "From now on, we need to stay away from each other."

After fastening the last button, she slung her bag over her shoulder, grabbed her suitcase, and stepped toward the door without looking back.

From behind her came Wesley's voice—low, even, impossible to read. "So that's it? You got what you wanted, and now you're walking away."

Her steps faltered for a heartbeat and then hastened, heels striking the floor as she fled the hotel room as though chased by something she couldn't face.

Yet, she was unaware that whether they would truly stop seeing each other was never really up to her.

By identity, Roselyn belonged to the Warren family—not by blood, but by name. When she was eight, Kevin's grandmother, Beth Warren, had taken her from a children's home and brought her into the family. For more than ten years, the Warren family had raised her, and for just as long, she had carefully worn the mask of the obedient, gentle daughter they expected her to be.

Bad blood ran deep between Wesley and Kevin, their rivalry long ago spilling beyond the men themselves and poisoning both families.

Whether out of self-preservation or sheer necessity, Roselyn knew she could never let the Warren family—or Kevin—learn the truth about her entanglement with Wesley. Whatever bound her to Wesley had been condemned from the start, meant to exist only in secrecy and silence.

After hurriedly leaving the hotel, Roselyn deliberately wandered several streets away before finally sending her location to Kevin.

His concise response came swiftly. "Wait there. I'm on my way."

The words on her phone blurred as she stared at them, a muted ache blooming quietly in her chest. Telling her to wait came naturally to him. Years slipped by while she obeyed, enduring silence and distance without complaint. Exile followed—driven out of Radena and left to survive alone in Zoinbury for three long years. Even after that, patience was demanded of her again, right up until the moment she heard about his engagement.

By late autumn, Radena's air had turned cruel, the cold biting straight through fabric and skin. A slicing gust rushed past, prompting Roselyn to clutch her trench coat tighter as she dropped her eyes, masking the disappointment on her face.

Moments later, a sleek black Bentley eased to a stop at the curb in front of her.

The driver stepped out promptly, lifted her suitcase, and opened the rear door with practiced courtesy, waiting in silence.

The moment the car door swung open, Roselyn caught sight of Kevin seated inside the car. Clad in a cool gray suit, he wore his shirt fastened cleanly to the collar, every line of him crisp and restrained. A quiet polish clung to his presence—elegant without being aloof, composed yet unmistakably gentle.

Nothing about that familiar warmth had changed over the past three years. When his gaze lifted to her, a faint smile curved at the corner of his lips, soft and gentle. "Roselyn."

Nearly three and a half years had passed since they last stood face-to-face. In that instant, to Roselyn, he felt achingly familiar and impossibly foreign all at once. Everything she had forced herself to suppress surged upward without warning, emotion crashing into her chest.

Moisture blurred her vision. Afraid she might lose control, she dropped her gaze, stepped into the car, and murmured in a low, unsteady voice, "Kevin."

With a muted purr of the engine, the black Bentley eased forward and disappeared into the street.

Kevin didn't question her sudden return at all; instead, his eyes slid down to her foot, brows knitting faintly. His question came low and careful, unmistakably anxious. "Your ankle—how bad was the sprain?"

With a small, reflexive motion, Roselyn drew her foot back, unease flickering briefly across her features. "It's already better. I just twisted it a little while walking."

"Try to be more careful."

She nodded lightly, answering just as softly, "I will."

The few words they exchanged felt clipped, wrapped in an unmistakable sense of emotional distance.

Kevin looked as though he meant to say more, but the vibration of his phone cut in, and once he took the call, his focus shifted entirely to company matters.

Roselyn stayed still in the seat, hands folded, choosing silence as the car glided forward.

Night was settling in as the car rolled through the gates of the Warren estate.

Warm lights spilled across the grounds, leaving the mansion glowing against the deepening dusk.

After ending his call, Kevin stepped out first and then turned back as Roselyn followed him from the car. "While you were in Zoinbury those three years, my parents mentioned you more than once," he remarked in an even, measured tone.

Unsure whether the words came from real concern or polite obligation, Roselyn curved her lips into a restrained smile. "I missed them as well."

The moment Roselyn crossed the threshold, bursts of laughter floated in from the living room, lively and intimate. Standing there, she suddenly felt like an outsider intruding on a scene that had continued perfectly well without her.

Noticing her arrival, Kevin's mother, Jordyn Warren, paused mid-smile, the expression stiffening for a heartbeat before smoothing back into practiced warmth.

"Roselyn, you're back." Jordyn's gaze swept Roselyn from head to toe, appraising. Then, she rose and reached out, drawing Roselyn closer.

"Sylvia, there's someone I'd like you to be introduced to," Jordyn said, smiling warmly at Sylvia. "This is Roselyn Hayes. She's been living in Zoinbury and only returned today."

Turning back to Roselyn, Jordyn added, "Roselyn, this is Kevin's girlfriend, Sylvia Foster. She'll be joining the family soon."

From where she stood, Roselyn studied the woman seated on the sofa. Sylvia's features were fine and balanced, her eyes soft yet clear, her posture relaxed without losing its polish. Even in stillness, she carried herself with an easy grace—calm, elegant, and quietly assured.

"It's good to finally meet you, Roselyn. Please, just call me Sylvia," she offered, her lips curving into a gentle, practiced smile.

Roselyn knew of Sylvia. This encounter had replayed in her mind more times than she could count, yet when it finally arrived, it still caught her completely off guard. Conflicting emotions twisted together inside her, and a dull, spreading ache settled heavily in her chest.

"Hello, Sylvia. I'm Roselyn," she answered, lifting the corners of her mouth despite the stiffness in her face.

Turning slightly, Roselyn offered a polite greeting to Jordyn and Kevin's father, Stefan Warren. "Mr. and Mrs. Warren."

Stefan rose from the sofa and spoke evenly, his voice carrying a quiet authority. "Since we're all finally together, let's eat."

Everyone stood and moved toward the dining room. Sylvia was gently guided along at the center of the group, as if the flow naturally bent around her.

Roselyn found herself left behind.

Kevin took the seat to Sylvia's left, leaving the place on his left conspicuously empty. Without looking back, he said in a composed, unremarkable tone, "Roselyn, why don't you take this spot?"

Sylvia's eyes flicked briefly toward Roselyn, the glance light and unreadable, before she turned her attention away.

Without protest, Roselyn walked over and took the seat, her lashes lowering as she tried to shrink into the background, quiet and unassuming.

Plates crowded the table, rich with color and aroma, yet almost none of the dishes were ones Roselyn truly liked. A knot of conflicted feelings settled in her chest as she kept her head down, eating in silence and offering little conversation.

Only when a piece of sliced sirloin steak landed gently on her plate did her movements finally stall.

"Don't you like sirloin steaks?" Kevin inquired softly, his voice unhurried. "You've barely touched anything."

After a brief pause, he added evenly, "I didn't know you were coming back until this afternoon, so I didn't have time to arrange your favorites. Just eat a little for now. If you're still hungry later, I'll take you to Aura Restaurant."

There was an understated warmth woven into his words.

Caught off guard, Roselyn looked up. He still remembered what she liked—both the dishes and the place she loved most. "Thank you, Kevin," she said quietly.

Sylvia curved her lips into a light smile and flicked Kevin a gently chiding glance. "Kevin, you don't even know what I actually like to eat."

A faint tension rippled through the room, the warmth at the table thinning into something more layered and careful.

Sensing it, Jordyn quickly stepped in, reaching across the table to serve Sylvia several dishes with practiced cheer. "Sylvia, that's not true. Every dish tonight is something you enjoy. Kevin made sure of it first thing this morning. We just didn't know Roselyn would be coming back today, so there wasn't much prepared to suit her tastes. Kevin has always had a remarkable memory. He and Roselyn grew up together and were inseparable as children, so of course, he remembers."

Surprise flickered across Sylvia's eyes as she replied, "Oh? Is that right?" She shifted her gaze to Kevin with a smile. "I do like everything tonight. I just didn't know when you started paying attention to my preferences."

Kevin lifted a piece of lobster and set it neatly on Sylvia's plate. "We eat together every day," he noted lightly. "I notice things. Remembering wasn't difficult."

At his words, a gentle, satisfied smile curved across Sylvia's lips. Turning her head, she looked toward Roselyn and spoke with an easy warmth. "Now I know what you like too. When you're free, you should come have meals with Kevin and me more often."

Roselyn nodded in quiet agreement, her composed facade impeccable even as a slow, uneasy tightness began to coil in her chest. So was there truly no time to prepare the dishes she loved, or had there simply never been any intention to do so at all?

Roselyn tried not to linger on the thought, yet the faint bitterness refused to fade, spreading quietly through her heart. Those casual words from Sylvia made one thing painfully clear—whatever closeness she once shared with Kevin now belonged to the past.

Once dinner ended, Sylvia excused herself, explaining she still had other obligations to attend to. Outside the mansion gates, her driver was already waiting, engine idling patiently in the night air.

Roselyn, Kevin, and Jordyn saw Sylvia off, walking her all the way to the entrance.

Ahead of Jordyn and Roselyn, Kevin and Sylvia moved shoulder to shoulder, their silhouettes effortlessly in sync.

At the doorway, Kevin reached out and brushed a gentle hand through Sylvia's hair. "Go on. Get in safely, and text me when you're home."

Sylvia's eyes curved with contentment as she nodded. "I will."

They looked unmistakably intimate, wrapped in a closeness that shut the rest of the world out.

Roselyn reminded herself that Kevin's happiness was all that mattered—that knowing he was content was supposed to be enough. Yet the ache in her chest refused to fade, spreading deeper with every breath. Standing there, she felt painfully insignificant, as though she didn't even deserve to be near the happiness that belonged to him.

After Sylvia's car disappeared down the long driveway, the remaining three drifted back into the mansion in silence.

At the bar, Stefan poured drinks with practiced calm and then passed a glass to Roselyn once everyone had settled. "When do you plan to go back to Zoinbury?"

An uneasy stillness spread through the room, heavy and expectant.

Roselyn curled her fingers together, gaze fixed on the floor. "I want to stay in Radena."

Silence crept in all at once, pressing down between them.

A crease formed between Jordyn's brows, irritation flashing openly across her face. "Roselyn, don't forget how much we've poured into raising you all these years. Kevin went out of his way to build opportunities for you in Zoinbury. And now you just come back like this?" She paused, voice sharpening. "Are you really prepared to abandon everything you worked for there—and all the resources behind it?"

The room fell noticeably tense as Jordyn's remark landed, leaving an awkward pressure behind.

Each sentence—the time and money invested in Roselyn's upbringing, coupled with Kevin's efforts in building connections for her in Zoinbury—settled Roselyn's shoulders like added weight, pressing her down from the inside.

With her jaw clenched, Roselyn said nothing, her lips drawn into a thin, stubborn line. That silence carried more defiance than any argument she could have voiced.

Breaking the tension, Stefan looked at Roselyn and queried in a flat tone, "Roselyn, may I ask why you decided to come back?"

Roselyn offered no reply. The truth was, her return had everything to do with what she had learned about her own origins.

Three years ago, she had stumbled upon a crucial clue, only for an unforeseen accident to force her overseas and sever the trail completely. Now that fragments of the truth had surfaced again, she refused to let them slip through her fingers a second time.

Lies had never come easily to Roselyn, and Stefan's question left her with nothing to offer in response.

A heavy, airless tension settled over the room, pressing down on everyone at the table.

Irritation sharpened Jordyn's features, and even Stefan's expression hardened into something stern.

At that moment, Kevin reached for the pitcher and poured himself a drink, his movements unhurried. With an even, almost casual tone, he spoke. "If Roselyn wants to stay in Radena, then let her. It's actually good news. At least it's convenient for us to look after her."

Clearly unhappy, Jordyn opened her mouth to argue—only for the shrill ring of Roselyn's phone to slice through the oppressive quiet.

Without glancing at the screen, Roselyn rose softly and murmured, "I need to step out for a moment and answer this call."

Moving quickly, she left the room as if eager to escape.

The instant Roselyn disappeared through the doorway, Jordyn slammed her cup down so hard that tea sloshed over the rim, splattering the polished table. Her glare snapped toward Kevin, sharp and unyielding. "Kevin, what exactly are you thinking? I'll be frank with you. Three years ago, your plans to get married were already destroyed because of Roselyn. Now, just as you're preparing to get engaged, she suddenly comes back from Zoinbury. If she interferes with your relationship with Sylvia, I'll make sure Beth knows—and I will not tolerate Roselyn any longer!"

Kevin set his own cup down with measured restraint and rose to his feet. The warmth in his eyes faded, replaced by a thin layer of frost. "Mom, what happened three years ago had nothing to do with Roselyn. She won't affect my relationship with Sylvia. You're reading far too much into this."

…

That unexpected call gave Roselyn a fleeting excuse to escape the suffocating tension inside, a narrow crack of air she clung to.

Stepping into the courtyard, she drew in a deep breath, the cool night air brushing her skin as she forced the ache and bitterness back down into her chest.

After steadying herself, she lifted the phone and answered quietly. "Hello… who's calling?"

A familiar, careless tone drifted through the line. "Come see me tonight."

The voice belonged to Wesley.

Her muscles tightened instantly, nerves snapping to attention. She hissed, "Didn't we already settle this? We're not supposed to see each other anymore!"

"Not see each other?" A soft, derisive chuckle followed. "Then tell me—how am I supposed to satisfy your desire then?"

Heat flared in her chest as she endured his shameless provocation, irritation coiling tight beneath her skin. Drawing a slow breath, she said firmly, "Wesley, knock it off. I can't deal with you right now. Don't call me again. If there's anything to say, we'll talk after I'm back in Zoinbury."

With her thumb hovering over the screen, she moved to end the call.

Without warning, Wesley's tone slid from lazy indifference into something dark and menacing. "Hang up, and I'll show up at the Warren estate right now—and I'll drag you out in person."

Shock flashed across Roselyn's face, her eyes widening as her pulse spiked. There was no question in her mind—Wesley never made empty threats. Reckless to the core and utterly unconcerned with consequences, Wesley was exactly the kind of man who would follow through.

Her fingers tightened around the phone as she demanded, "What do you want?"

Wesley drawled, "Nothing outrageous. Just do what I told you. Come see me tonight."

"Not happening!" Roselyn immediately shot back, the refusal leaving her lips without the slightest pause.

Having only just returned from abroad, she still hadn't visited Beth. The evening was meant for Beth alone, not sneaking out and disappearing overnight.

Realizing her answer had sounded too final, and wary of pushing him too far, she softened her tone and added quickly, "At least not today."

"Then tomorrow." Wesley pressed on, unbothered.

A dull ache throbbed at Roselyn's temples as she struggled to figure out how to handle him—just as a familiar voice broke in from behind her.

"Roselyn," Kevin asked evenly, though his gaze lingered, "who are you talking to on the phone?"