Chapter 5: Chapter 5 You’re Killing Her!
Three days later, on the morning of the symposium, Rose stood before the mirror in her entryway and shed the soft, unstructured clothes she had worn in recent days.
When her fingers brushed the dark tailored blazer hanging neatly among the others, she hesitated for a brief moment before taking it down and slipping it on.
On the wall nearby, the calendar still bore the marks of the past few days—one stroke after another in red ink, each line heavier than the last.
She stepped closer, picked up the pen, and drew another firm line across today’s date with careful precision.
Divorce Countdown: D-27.
At last, she was one step closer to freedom.
With that small daily ritual complete, she picked up her bag and left without looking back.
She arrived well ahead of schedule, and had barely stepped inside when a sudden commotion erupted near the rear entrance.
The noise rippled through the hall like a stone dropped into still water, drawing every eye in its direction.
Rose looked up and followed the sound.
Samantha was making her entrance, surrounded by a dense crowd pressing in from all sides.
Cameras hovered so close they nearly touched her face, leaving her scarcely any room to move, the spectacle resembling less a professional gathering and more the arrival of a celebrity at a premiere.
"Please, everyone, be careful—don’t push," Samantha said with a poised smile that did not falter in the slightest, her composure flawless down to the smallest detail. "I’ll make time for each interview in order."
Wave after wave of people surged past Rose, their voices carrying clearly in the crowded space, brimming with admiration that was neither subtle nor restrained.
"Ms. Hill is extraordinary—only twenty-seven and already making breakthroughs in new treatments for chronic illnesses. She’s one of the most promising clinical researchers in the country."
"I heard her interview schedule is booked solid into early next year. And she’s stunning on top of it all—her fan base is enormous."
"Listen," someone lowered their voice, though not nearly enough, their tone thick with intrigue, "that hospital scandal from a while back? The narrative’s completely flipped. They’re saying Ms. Hill had a sudden medical emergency, and Mr. Knight rushed her to the hospital overnight and stayed by her side the entire time. People are calling it true love now."
"What? So that’s what really happened?"
A wave of hushed exclamations followed, spreading quickly through the crowd.
Standing there, Rose found the entire scene strangely absurd, almost laughable in its irony.
As Samantha moved further inside, the crowd continued to press forward, and Rose was bumped more than once by those passing by, forcing her to take a step back to steady herself.
Then, without warning, someone shoved her hard from behind.
She stumbled, nearly losing her footing.
A hand shot out at that exact moment and closed firmly around her wrist.
Rose looked up and found herself caught in Ryan’s dark gaze.
The warmth of his palm seeped through her skin, and for two fleeting seconds she stood frozen, forgetting even to pull away.
"Ryan?" Samantha’s voice carried from not far off.
Rose turned her head and met Samantha’s eyes. Samantha offered a faint smile, her gaze lingering on Rose for just a heartbeat before shifting back to Ryan.
"I’m over here."
In the next instant, Ryan let go.
He did not spare Rose a second glance. Instead, he turned and walked straight through the crowd toward Samantha, leaving Rose standing alone where she was, as though she had never been part of the moment at all.
Of course she understood exactly what Samantha was doing.
It was a declaration, plain and unmistakable, staged before everyone present.
The murmurs began almost immediately, subdued but sharp enough that every word reached her ears with painful clarity.
"Did you see that? He grabbed her hand and she didn’t even pull away."
"Tsk, she probably bumped into him on purpose. Doesn’t she see who’s standing next to Mr. Knight? Trying to ride the coattails, I guess."
"Women like that are always after one thing—money."
Rose remained where she stood, listening as the whispers drifted past her like a persistent echo.
Then, slowly, the corner of her lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, one so slight it bordered on indifference.
She said nothing.
There was no point in arguing with people who preferred a pretty lie over an inconvenient truth.
Turning away, she began to walk, unwilling to remain there and listen to strangers romanticize the love story of her husband and his mistress.
She had only taken a few steps when a sharp scream cut through the air.
"Help! Somebody help!"
Rose’s attention snapped back instantly.
A young mother was clutching a little girl, no more than five or six years old.
The child’s face was deathly pale, her body limp, consciousness already slipping away.
Suppressing the surge of emotion rising in her chest, Rose hurried over and dropped to her knees beside them.
Her fingers had just reached the girl’s eyelid when someone shoved her violently from behind.
She fell backward onto the cold stone floor, her back striking hard as a sharp wave of pain shot through her.
Looking up, she met Samantha’s displeased expression.
"Move aside—let me take a look!" Samantha’s voice rose sharply, authoritative and urgent.
The righteous urgency in her tone immediately swayed the crowd.
"She’s right—let Samantha handle it! Move!"
Propping herself up with one hand against the throbbing ache in her lower back, Rose forced herself into a sitting position and watched coldly as Samantha knelt beside the child and began what she clearly intended as first aid.
Ryan stood at the edge of the crowd. His gaze flicked briefly toward Rose, taking in the direction where she had fallen, yet his feet did not move even an inch toward her.
He had seen it.
He simply did not care.
Rose slowly pushed herself to her feet, the dull ache in her back lingering.
Her gaze shifted back to Samantha and the child—
And in the very next second, her expression changed abruptly.
The girl’s lips had begun to turn blue, yet Samantha continued pressing down on her chest, her technique flawed in every possible way—wrong position, wrong force, wrong rhythm.
If this continued...
The child would be in real danger.
The thought had barely formed before Rose was already moving, her body acting faster than reason.
In two quick strides, she reached them, seized Samantha’s wrist, and wrenched it away from the child.
"Stop!"
"Let go of me!" Samantha staggered half a step, caught off guard, her face flushing with anger. "I’m trying to save her—what are you doing?"
Rose’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and unyielding.
"You’re killing her!"
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