Chapter 15: Chapter 15 He Knew All Along
Rose didn’t answer.
She didn’t have to.
Ryan only ever acknowledged her when no one else was around. The moment another pair of eyes might be watching, he became meticulous about keeping his distance.
"Caught it pretty bad?" he asked.
She gave a noncommittal shrug.
"Did you take anything for it?"
Without looking at him, she answered, "Yeah."
"You’re lying."
His voice was calm, almost conversational.
It wasn’t concern.
It was certainty.
Rose fell silent.
He remembered.
For a brief moment, she had forgotten that Ryan knew her better than almost anyone.
When they had first married, long before the silence between them became permanent, she’d refused to take medicine whenever she got sick.
She hated pills.
She hated cough syrup even more.
Instead, she’d burrow beneath the blankets and sleep for an entire day, insisting her body would recover on its own.
Ryan had never believed that strategy.
Once, barely a month after their wedding, he’d swallowed a spoonful of the same bitter medicine himself just to prove it wasn’t as awful as she claimed.
Then he’d pulled the comforter off her, ignored her sleepy protests, gently pried open her mouth with one hand, and patiently fed her the medicine one spoonful at a time until she finally gave up resisting.
Afterward, he’d looked at her with complete seriousness and said,
"If my wife dies within our first month of marriage, people are going to think I’m cursed."
She’d laughed so hard she’d nearly spit the medicine back out.
****
Now, standing beside him in the elevator, the memory felt strangely distant.
Like it had happened to someone else.
The silence between them stretched as the elevator continued downward.
Ryan reached into the pharmacy bag he was carrying and removed a small white prescription bag.
"They gave Mike this for his cold." He held it out to her. "Take it."
Rose instinctively caught it before frowning.
"I don’t need it."
"You do."
"I’m fine."
Ryan’s expression barely changed.
"I remember you’re allergic to several common cold medications."
Rose looked at him.
"So I asked the pediatrician which formulations were safest."
He nodded toward the prescription label.
"Mike’s symptoms are similar to yours. Since you’re the pharmacologist, you can look over the ingredients and decide whether the prescription makes sense."
His tone remained perfectly matter-of-fact.
"You can think of it as getting a second opinion."
Rose stared at him.
"So..."
"You want me to evaluate medication prescribed for Samantha’s brother?"
Had she misunderstood everything?
Ryan met her eyes evenly.
"It can help your cold, too."
Rose almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it hurt.
Even now, he knew exactly how to drive a knife into the places she’d worked hardest to protect.
She tightened her grip on the prescription bag, resisting the urge to throw it straight back at him.
Just then, Ryan seemed to remember something.
"There are still people from New York’s social circles who have your WhatsApp, aren’t there?"
Rose frowned.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
She had joined those private groups shortly after their wedding.
Back then, she’d wanted to understand Ryan’s world.
Business owners.
Philanthropists.
Old-money families.
Politicians.
She rarely spoke.
Most members knew Ryan Knight had a wife.
Very few knew anything about her.
"You’ve probably seen the rumors about the townhouse."
"Were they rumors?"
Ryan ignored the question.
"I’d like you to clear things up."
Rose blinked.
"...Excuse me?"
The elevator display ticked down.
Three floors remaining.
Ryan spoke as though he were discussing a business proposal.
"Samantha’s building public recognition. She’ll be appearing on television and attending charity events. Negative publicity isn’t good for her."
His eyes drifted to the phone sticking halfway out of Rose’s coat pocket.
Before she could react, he took it.
"Ryan—"
Her hands were still occupied with the prescription bag.
By the time she reached for the phone, he’d already unlocked it.
She still hadn’t bothered setting a passcode.
Ryan moved with astonishing speed.
He didn’t open her photos.
He didn’t scroll through her messages.
He went directly to her WhatsApp Status.
Rose’s expression changed.
"What are you doing?"
Before she could stop him, he tapped the screen a few times.
Then he calmly handed the phone back.
The elevator doors slid open.
Without another word, Ryan walked out carrying the fragrance of mint-and-rose coming from his cologne.
Rose remained frozen inside the elevator for another second.
A knot tightened in her stomach.
She hurried after him before ducking into a quiet hallway near the research offices.
Setting the prescription bag on a nearby bench, she opened WhatsApp.
The newest status update had been posted less than a minute earlier.
She read it once.
Then again.
Her fingers slowly tightened around the phone.
[Just to clear up the rumors—Samantha is my older sister. The townhouse Ryan and I purchased for the Hill family was bought jointly by us as husband and wife. It wasn’t a gift from Ryan to Samantha alone. Please don’t believe everything you read online.]
Rose felt the blood drain from her face.
Older sister.
Ryan knew.
He had always known.
He knew exactly what the Hill family had stolen from her.
He knew Samantha wasn’t her sister in any meaningful sense.
And despite all of that...
He had used Rose’s own account to defend Samantha.
To clean up Samantha’s reputation.
To make Rose publicly acknowledge the woman who had taken everything from her.
Her thumb hit Delete before she’d even finished thinking.
The status disappeared instantly.
No one had seen it.
But the disgust lingered.
It crawled beneath her skin like something impossible to wash away.
Her eyes drifted to the white prescription bag still resting on the bench.
So that was why he’d shown concern.
The medicine.
The conversation.
The memories.
The kindness.
Every bit of it had simply been a prelude to asking a favor.
Rose picked up the bag, walked to the nearest trash can, and dropped it inside without a moment’s hesitation.
It landed with a soft thud.
She didn’t look back.
*****
The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze.
No matter how deeply she buried herself in research, Ryan’s words lingered in the back of her mind.
Some people entered your life like a storm.
Others stayed like a curse.
Ryan somehow managed to be both.
For the first time, she found herself counting the days until the divorce became official.
She wanted a clean break.
No more compromises.
No more pretending.
No more being dragged into the mess surrounding him and Samantha.
If Ariel hadn’t been her greatest vulnerability, she would have fought back long ago.
Instead...
She endured.
Not because she couldn’t retaliate.
Because she couldn’t afford to.
Not yet.
*****
That evening, a banking notification lit up her phone.
Rose opened the app.
Her breathing caught.
The transfer amount filled the screen with so many zeros that, for a split second, she thought the banking app had malfunctioned.
Three hundred million dollars.
She stared at the number.
The settlement she’d negotiated with Ryan had been two hundred million.
Not three.
He had transferred an additional hundred million without explanation.
Ryan wasn’t the type to make accounting mistakes.
Which meant the extra money had been intentional.
Her thoughts drifted back to the elevator.
To the WhatsApp status.
To the medicine.
Was the extra hundred million payment?
Compensation?
Or simply the price he believed it would take to buy her cooperation?
A humorless laugh escaped her lips.
Ryan never hesitated to spend money where Samantha was concerned.
He was generous.
Meticulous.
Thoughtful.
In every possible way.
Ironically, the prenuptial agreement Chairman Knight had once forced her to sign no longer mattered.
She wasn’t receiving Ryan’s money because she had been his wife.
She was receiving it because he needed something from her.
Had they divorced years ago, when their marriage first began falling apart, she would have walked away with nothing.
Now...
His money was quietly becoming the foundation of Ariel’s future.
And for that reason alone, Rose accepted every dollar without the slightest trace of guilt.
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