College was a blur for Rosie the next morning. She couldn't focus, couldn't shake off what she saw — Arthur and Emily, tangled naked, like she meant nothing.
Ava leaned closer as they sat outside near the café. "You look like shit. What happened?"
Rosie clenched her jaw, her voice low. "I saw something last night. Arthur… with his ex."
Ava blinked. "No fucking way. That bastard."
Rosie nodded slowly. "And he didn't even care to close the damn door."
"Are you okay?" Ava asked, reaching for her hand.
Rosie let out a bitter laugh. "No. I want him to feel exactly what I felt. Every second of that pain."
James, who sat across from them, whistled under his breath. "Girl, sounds like revenge time."
Rosie smirked faintly. "Yeah… maybe it is."
Later That Evening
Back home, she curled up on the gallery with her book, sipping green tea and watching the orange sun bleed into the sky. The day was calm, but her mind was not.
Arthur quietly walked into the gallery, hands in his pockets, hesitant.
"You always read here?" he asked casually, trying to keep his tone light.
Rosie didn't look up. "Sometimes."
He sat beside her, eyes flicking toward the view. "Listen, I've been meaning to talk to you..."
She finally turned to him, her expression unreadable.
"I don't know how to say this," he went on, "but things feel different with you. Better. Real. I never thought I'd feel something like this again."
Before Rosie could answer, Jane and Charles entered the mansion, returning from work. Their eyes landed on Arthur and Rosie sitting together.
Arthur stood quickly. "Hey. You guys are back."
Rosie watched him retreat into his room, and again… she felt alone.
The Weekend – The Party
The mansion's wildest party yet. LSD, booze, sweaty bodies grinding under strobe lights — pure chaos and euphoria.
Rosie arrived late, dressed in a black crop top and high-waisted skirt, heels clicking on marble. She saw Arthur across the room, surrounded by people, but his eyes darted toward her.
On the other side of the party, a fight was underway. Bare-knuckle, underground style — winner takes all. Arthur saw the crowd forming and smirked.
"This is my shit," he muttered. "Let's fucking go."
He took off his jacket, revealing his toned frame. The crowd roared as Arthur stepped into the ring, cocky and composed.
Meanwhile, Rosie barely looked at the fight. Her eyes were elsewhere — on a guy dancing with fire in his feet and hunger in his smile. He looked at her like she was the only woman there. And she let him.
They danced. Close. Bodies brushing. Hands grazing. Heat building.
"Wanna get out of here?" he whispered into her ear.
Rosie grabbed his hand and led him to the parking lot behind the mansion, her breath fast.
They leaned against a car. The guy cupped her face. No names, no questions.
His lips crashed into hers — hot, hungry, full of lust. Rosie opened her mouth, letting him in. She grabbed the back of his head, deepening the kiss. He pulled her close, one hand sliding down to squeeze her ass firmly.
"Mmm," Rosie moaned into his mouth, breath hitching.
His hands roamed, caressing her back, sliding under her crop top. She didn't stop him.
He pinned her lightly against the car, kissing her jawline, neck, lips again — desperate and messy.
Just as his hand moved to unbutton her skirt, Arthur appeared.
"What the fuck?!" Arthur's voice thundered.
Rosie froze, pulling away slightly. Arthur stared at them — rage burning through his eyes. In two seconds, he rushed forward and punched the guy square in the nose.
Blood. Shock. The guy stumbled back.
"Arthur, STOP!" Rosie shouted and slapped him hard across the face.
The sound cracked through the air.
"You don't get to act like that!" Rosie snapped, voice shaking. "You fucked Emily in the same house I sleep in. You think I didn't see?! You do whatever the hell you want — so I will too!"
Arthur stood there, speechless, the red handprint glowing on his cheek.
Without another word, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her toward his car.
The Silent Ride Home
No words. Just breathing. The tension was thick. Rosie sat stiff in the passenger seat, arms folded, eyes fixed on the road.
Back at the mansion, Rosie dropped onto the couch in the dark living room. Her face buried in her hands, but no sound came out. Just tears. Quiet, broken tears.
Arthur came in minutes later with a glass of water.
"Here," he said gently.
She took it, sipped, still avoiding eye contact.
Arthur sat beside her, rubbing his hands nervously. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I was stupid. Emily meant nothing. That night… I don't even know why— I just…"
Rosie looked up slowly, eyes glassy. "Then why did you bring her into your bed? Into this house? After everything?"
Arthur's throat tightened. "Because I was scared. Of what I was starting to feel for you. You make me feel things that terrify me, Rosie."
Rosie said nothing. Her walls were cracking, but she held on.
"I care about you," Arthur added, his voice lower now. "I want more than sex. More than games. I want you."
Rosie inhaled sharply. "I wanted you too… but that night with Emily, it broke something inside me."
Arthur reached out, took her hand gently, then pulled her head to his chest.
She didn't resist.
"You're safe here," he whispered into her hair. "I promise."
She closed her eyes. And for a moment… it did feel safe.
But trust? That would take more.
And the night drifted into silence.