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?"

Roselyn's fingers shook as she pivoted, spotting Kevin striding toward her, and her muscles locked up in a split second. With his shadow drawing closer, she blurted out, a little too fast, "I'm on the phone with Abby."

Abby Elliott—her closest friend—became an instant shield. Left with no other option, Roselyn leaned into the lie.

From the other end of the line came the sharp click of a lighter snapping open. Wesley took a slow drag and then let out a low laugh, his voice curling with deliberate provocation. "You don't usually sound like that with just anyone," he noted casually. "Maybe next time, you can talk to me that way. I'd really enjoy it."

Every word was laced with amusement and a trace of mischief.

Roselyn's nerves were stretched thin, every breath shallow and controlled. Only then did she grasp how rattled she truly was—Kevin stood just a few steps away, while Wesley's murmured words slipped closer to the line with every second. She couldn't afford even the smallest chance of Kevin overhearing Wesley.

With a tight grip, she pressed the phone to her ear, holding it as if it might betray her with a single sound. Lowering her voice, she said into the phone quickly, "It's too late for tonight. We'll see each other tomorrow."

"Fine," Wesley answered easily, his tone almost indulgent.

Relief washed through her as she ended the call without hesitation and turned back toward Kevin, forcing her expression into something calm. "Abby already knows I'm back," she said casually. "She asked me to grab a bite with her—but it's late. I'd rather head to your grandmother's place and spend some time with her instead."

Kevin noticed the subtle change in Roselyn's demeanor. His eyes stayed on her a beat longer than usual, searching her face, yet he chose not to press her with questions. "Then I'll drive you to her place myself," he offered in a low tone.

"That won't be necessary. I'll have the driver take me," Roselyn remarked, her smile smooth and carefully controlled.

She was keenly aware of how things looked and where the lines had to be drawn. Getting too close to Kevin was no longer an option she allowed herself to consider. What they once had was gone, and there was no path back to it.

In the end, under Roselyn's insistence, a driver working for the Warren family was arranged to take her to Beth's place.

As Roselyn settled into the back seat, neither Stefan nor Jordyn stepped outside to see her off. Their absence spoke volumes—any pretense of courtesy had been abandoned, and their displeasure over her decision to remain in Radena was no longer hidden.

Before the car rolled forward, Kevin spoke from the curb, his voice steady. "Make time to come by and have dinner with my parents again whenever you can."

With practiced composure, Roselyn dipped her chin and replied, "Alright."

Once the engine hummed to life and the vehicle rolled forward, the mansion slipped farther into the background, Kevin's tall silhouette shrinking until it blurred into the lights.

Roselyn turned her head away at last, a quiet heaviness pooling behind her eyes.

…

Tucked away on the southern outskirts of the city, Beth's place sat far from the clamor and glare of downtown.

When Roselyn finally arrived, the clock had just edged past eight in the evening.

For a visit, the timing was neither early nor intrusive—simply appropriate.

Crossing the threshold, Roselyn scanned the expansive living room—only to find it empty, with no sign of Beth anywhere in sight.

A servant promptly wheeled her suitcase upstairs to be unpacked, while the estate's housekeeper, Aubrey Sutton, rushed over, clasped Roselyn's hand, and spoke with unmistakable warmth. "Roselyn, you're finally home."

Emotion surged unexpectedly, leaving Roselyn's eyes rimmed with red as she struggled to steady her voice. "I'm planning to stay in Radena for a while this time."

Beth had taken Roselyn in from a children's home when she was only eight, and from that day on, this house had been where Roselyn grew up, watched over by Aubrey's steady presence.

More than anyone else, it had been Aubrey who quietly filled the role of parent in Roselyn's life.

Separated for three long years, the affection and longing between them resurfaced the moment they met again.

At Roselyn's mention of staying in Radena, Aubrey looked as though she wanted to ask more but then glanced around instinctively, concern flickering across her face before she swallowed the questions back.

Choosing silence instead, Aubrey squeezed Roselyn's hand gently and said with a soft smile, "It's good that you're home."

After exchanging a few more words, Roselyn glanced toward the stairs and asked, "Where's Beth?"

At once, Aubrey's smile stiffened, a flicker of unease crossing her face. "She's… already turned in for the night."

A brief stillness settled over Roselyn, and the faint curve of her smile slowly drained away.

For fifteen years, Roselyn had lived under Beth's roof, growing up by her side. Even during the three years Roselyn had spent in Zoinbury, they had stayed in touch—calls, FaceTime, long conversations that stretched late into the night. Beth's routine was etched into Roselyn's memory. Barely past eight o'clock, the house still wrapped in evening quiet—there was no way Beth would have gone to bed this early.

The truth settled silently but firmly in Roselyn's chest. Beth simply didn't want to see her. Even Beth didn't want her back—certainly not wanting her to stay in Radena.

A short, self-mocking laugh slipped from Roselyn's throat, thin and hollow. Once she uncovered the answers she'd come for, she would leave Radena behind—no lingering, no burden, no reason for anyone to be troubled by her presence again.

Back in her bedroom, Roselyn freshened up before collapsing onto the bed, the mattress barely cushioning the weight of the day.

Everything that had happened on her first day back pressed down on her chest, leaving her wrung out and hollow.

With her eyes shut, her thoughts blurred and scattered, drifting in uneven waves as she shifted restlessly beneath the covers. Long minutes passed before exhaustion finally pulled her under, and sleep carried her straight into a dream.

In her dream, the scene rewound to when she was sixteen.

Sunlight blazed over the basketball court, where teenage boys ran and laughed, their movements loose, loud, and brimming with careless youth.

When halftime came, Roselyn hurried over with bottles of water for Kevin and the others.

Tilting her head slightly, she wiped the sweat from Kevin's forehead with a towel.

A voice rang out nearby, playful and teasing. "Kevin, take a look at Roselyn—sweet, obedient, and beautiful. Just make her your future wife."

Heat rushed to Roselyn's cheeks, the color blooming as she froze in place, her hands hanging awkwardly at her sides, unsure where to put them or how to respond.

Across from her, eighteen-year-old Kevin met her gaze with an open, luminous calm, the corners of his mouth lifting into a soft, unguarded smile. "Of course," he said lightly. "Then you'll have to wait for me, Roselyn. One day, I'll marry you."

Laughter erupted around them, his friends hooting and clapping without restraint.

Caught off guard, Roselyn felt her emotions swell all at once, crashing over her without warning.

Back then, at sixteen, the feelings she had carefully tucked away finally broke free—what had once been a vague, shapeless pull sharpened and spread, quietly but relentlessly taking over her thoughts.

The phrase "wait for me" had carved itself deep into Roselyn's memory since then, sharp and unforgettable. She had sworn to be good, to wait patiently, and to carry the weight of that moment with her for the rest of her life.

Out of nowhere, the dream lurched sideways. Every image fractured at once, collapsing into nothing, until only boundless darkness remained.

Fear surged through her chest, and before she could react, a powerful arm locked around her. She was dragged against a solid body and held fast in a crushing embrace.

Hot breath brushed her ear as a voice murmured with a dangerous, possessive edge, "Roselyn, don't even think about running away from me."

When she lifted her gaze, Wesley's devastatingly handsome face filled her vision.

Nothing about him had changed—he remained defiant and untamed, the kind of man who never released what he claimed. With relentless strength, he pinned her in place and thrust into her, leaving her breathless and powerless beneath him. "Sweetheart, moan for me."

Roselyn snapped awake, her heart slamming wildly against her ribs. She bolted upright, dragging a shaky hand across her forehead as if to clear the lingering heat.

Only then did it sink in—it wasn't real, just a dream. Yet inside that dream, every touch and shift had felt terrifyingly real, and Wesley had been just as reckless and unrestrained as always by the end.

Covering her face with both hands, Roselyn lay back, throat dry, restlessness humming through her like an aftershock. Dreaming something like that made her feel completely unhinged.

After her breathing finally evened out, she rose, washed up, and changed into fresh clothes.

When she went downstairs, the dining room came into view—and with it Beth, already seated at the table, calmly eating breakfast.

At seventy-eight, Beth's hair had gone half-white, yet her back remained straight and her bearing steady, refinement and authority settling around her like an old habit.

Roselyn approached and halted beside the table. She didn't dare sit; instead, she lowered her head and stood neatly, murmuring, "Good morning, Beth."

Without looking up, Beth kept eating, her attention firmly fixed on her plate.

A tight line formed at Roselyn's mouth as she remained quietly off to the side.

Not until the last bite was finished did Beth place her fork and knife down and finally lift her eyes. "You returned without saying a word," she remarked coolly. "It seems you've gotten bolder."

Keeping her gaze lowered, Roselyn said nothing, her silence heavy and deliberate.

A sharp, assessing stare pinned Roselyn in place before Beth demanded, her tone icy, "So when exactly do you plan to return to Zoinbury?"

After a brief hesitation, Roselyn answered quietly, "I… I'm staying in Radena."

Beth's temper flared at once, her words slicing through the air. "Don't be ridiculous. Kevin's about to get engaged. What reason do you have to stay here?"

Forcing herself to meet Beth's eyes, Roselyn replied hoarsely, "Why does his engagement mean I'm not allowed to come back?"

She swallowed and added, the question trembling out of her, "Isn't this my home too?"

She felt that in everyone's eyes, once Kevin became engaged, she was supposed to keep her distance and preferably not stay in the same nation.

Ignoring the question, Beth scrutinized Roselyn for a long, heavy moment before warning flatly, "You'd better know your place, Roselyn. If you dare cause another shameful mess like the one three years ago, don't blame me for cutting you off and throwing you out!"

Color drained from Roselyn's face, a sharp flicker of humiliation crossing her features. That incident three years earlier had left her wounded from beginning to end, yet in Beth's version of events, she had somehow become the instigator—the source of the scandal.

Casting one last indifferent glance at Roselyn, Beth rose from her chair and walked off without looking back.

Left standing alone, Roselyn felt an icy weight settle deep in her chest. She shut her eyes briefly, steadying herself. When she opened them again and slowly took in the house she had lived in for fifteen years, every corner felt strangely foreign. So this place had never truly been her home.