Chapter 3: Chapter 3 We’re Not Getting Divorced
For three straight days, Rose barely slept.
On the first day, she dug out the marriage agreement from years ago and went through the divorce clauses one by one.
Assets, real estate, shares—everything that could be itemized was written with meticulous clarity, leaving no room for dispute.
On the second day, she handed in her resignation at the hospital.
Back then, she had chosen that job for one simple reason—it was close to Ryan’s company. Now, she wished she could put as much distance between them as possible.
On the third day, a weekday, she finally went home to pack.
At this hour, Ryan should have been at the office. His mother, Selena, and his younger brother, Evan, were unlikely to be there either. All Rose wanted was to collect what little belonged to her and leave quietly, without running into anyone.
There wasn’t much to take.
Seven years of marriage, and her personal belongings didn’t even fill two suitcases.
She crouched in the corner of the walk-in closet, folding clothes piece by piece, until her fingers brushed against a velvet box.
She paused.
Inside lay the ring, resting quietly against deep blue lining.
The day she received it, there had been no proposal, no kneeling, no sense of ceremony. It had been nothing more than a family dinner.
The long table was filled with Ryan’s relatives, and from across the table, he had tossed the ring box toward her, his tone as indifferent as if he were discussing a business matter.
"My grandfather had this prepared for you."
That was all. Not a single extra word. He hadn’t even looked at her.
Rose stared at the ring in her palm, then let out a faint, almost self-deprecating smile. Without hesitation, she dropped it into the folder containing the divorce papers, letting it rest among the cold legal documents.
It felt oddly appropriate, as though she were finally returning it to where it belonged.
She crouched down again and continued packing.
Then suddenly, noise erupted downstairs.
Footsteps. The sharp roll of suitcase wheels against the floor. Voices overlapping.
She had miscalculated. At this hour, no one was supposed to be home.
Straightening, she picked up the folder and walked toward the staircase. Before she even reached it, a string of insults floated up along the banister—low in volume, but perfectly clear.
"That bitch."
"Manipulative little schemer."
"Gold-digging trash."
Evan’s voice carried most of it, with Selena chiming in now and then.
There was no need to guess who they were talking about.
Rose stood at the landing for a brief moment, listening without expression. Then she stepped forward and walked down.
In the living room, Evan charged in first, Selena close behind. They flanked Ryan and Samantha as they entered, followed by several servants hauling suitcases upstairs.
It was obvious at a glance—Samantha was moving in.
She hadn’t even bothered to wait for the legal wife to leave.
Evan turned sharply and spotted Rose, his expression lighting up like he had finally found his target.
"How dare you show your face here?!"
Rose glanced at him, her tone calm, almost instructional.
"This is my home—mine and my husband’s. That’s a question you should be asking yourself."
Evan choked on the reply, his face flushing with anger. He yanked out his phone and shoved it in her face.
"Did you do this?!"
Rose lowered her gaze.
The screen was filled with trending posts—a video of Ryan carrying Samantha in and out of the hospital.
The caption read with absolute certainty: Ryan Knight & Samantha Hill—Suspected Pregnancy! Illicit Affair with Sister-in-Law!
The comment section was a frenzy of speculation and mockery. Samantha’s name was now tightly bound to the scandal.
Some even romanticized the footage, praising the so-called devotion of a man protecting his lover.
In this day and age, public opinion had long since lost its moral compass.
Rose watched without reaction, but Evan took her silence as confirmation.
"Everyone knows it was you! This happened at your hospital!"
Rose’s lips curved slightly, a trace of cold amusement in her eyes.
"You really don’t know me at all. If I had written it, the wording would’ve been much harsher. Want me to give you an example?"
That single remark set Selena off completely.
She rushed forward, face livid. "He’s just a child! How dare you talk like that!"
Her hand swung toward Rose’s face.
Rose shifted slightly, just enough to avoid the blow. Selena stumbled forward, losing her balance right at the top of the stairs. One foot slipped into empty space, and she nearly fell backward, only to be caught by Evan at the last second.
The room erupted into chaos.
Selena stood there, pale and shaken.
Rose remained upright, looking down at them, her tone suddenly "considerate" in a way that felt almost ironic.
"A child? The way he speaks says otherwise."
Her gaze shifted to Samantha. "And early pregnancy requires rest. Emotional stress isn’t good for anyone."
A faint chill flickered in her eyes.
Her words fell like a bucket of cold water, silencing everyone.
Ryan was the one who broke the silence.
"Apologize."
His voice was low, but firm.
Rose didn’t move.
Ryan’s expression darkened. "Samantha isn’t pregnant. You treated her—you know that."
He paused, then added with unmistakable contempt, "And, you’ve never been pregnant yourself. You’re not even an OB-GYN. How exactly did you make that call so confidently?"
He knew exactly where to strike.
Even in a marriage that existed in name only, he understood her vulnerabilities better than anyone. The words hit harder than a slap ever could.
Samantha wasn’t pregnant?
Rose’s gaze shifted to her, studying her carefully, and once again, she caught that fleeting trace of smugness.
So it had all been deliberate.
A calculated move to force her hand.
But what Samantha failed to understand was that, pregnant or not, it made no difference to Rose anymore.
Samantha leaned out from behind Ryan, her tone light, almost playful.
"Let’s just drop it. I know it wasn’t you, Rose." She blinked with feigned sweetness. "Just keep making tiramisu for me, okay? I absolutely love the one Ryan brings me every time."
That struck deeper than anything else.
Rose’s breath hitched.
That tiramisu... she had tested the recipe countless times, adjusting proportions over and over just to reach a version Ryan had once said was "good enough."
She didn’t make it often, but every time she did, she poured herself into it with near devotion.
Even Ariel had barely tasted it.
She had believed it was one of the few quiet intimacies they shared—a small sweetness in an otherwise hollow marriage.
Only now did she realize that none of it had ever reached Ryan.
Every single one had been delivered, again and again, to Samantha.
Seven years of quiet, stubborn effort—and not a single person had ever cared.
Ryan shifted slightly, placing himself in front of Samantha as if shielding her, his gaze wary.
Rose let out a soft, almost dismissive laugh.
Then she began walking down the stairs, one step at a time.
"No," she said calmly. "I absolutely owe you an apology."
Her voice was unnervingly steady.
"I should film a video right now—apologizing to my husband, and his mistress... who also happens to be his sister-in-law."
She paused, enunciating every word.
"I was wrong to interfere. Wrong to try to stop my dear sister-in-law from being with my husband. Clearly, I’m just narrow-minded and small-hearted. After all—"
She lifted her gaze, sweeping it across Samantha, then Ryan.
"How could I possibly compete with Miss Hill, who is so dedicated to being a mistress? Or Mr. Knight, who seems perfectly capable of running two households at once?"
The room fell into complete silence.
Even the ticking of the clock seemed loud.
"So," she continued evenly, "would you like me to clarify that Samantha isn’t pregnant—and that her hospital visit was for... other reasons?"
Even now, her professionalism held her back. She couldn’t bring herself to expose a patient’s privacy.
And she hated herself for it.
Selena’s face turned ashen. Evan stood there speechless.
Ryan’s expression darkened visibly, his gaze finally settling on Rose with a complexity she could no longer read.
But Rose didn’t look at any of them again.
She didn’t even bother going upstairs for her suitcases.
Instead, she stepped forward, stopped in front of Ryan, and slammed the folder against his chest.
The dull sound echoed in the room.
Then she walked past him without hesitation, her steps growing steadier with each stride.
Only then did Ryan glance down and see the bold title on the document.
Divorce Agreement.
The words left his mouth before he could stop himself.
"Wait."
His voice cut through the silence.
"No. We’re not getting divorced."
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