Chapter 28

ROSE'S POINT OF VIEW

"You've been distant lately," I said, stirring my coffee with practiced precision. Three clockwise turns, no more, no less. Morning sunlight streamed through the windows of Stefan's penthouse, our penthouse now,though I maintained my own apartment for appearance's sake.

Eight months since Camille's "death." Eight months of nurturing Stefan through grief, providing just enough comfort to keep him dependent without allowing him to fully heal. A delicate balance, but one I'd mastered through years of subtle manipulation.

Stefan looked up from his newspaper, dark circles beneath his eyes betraying another sleepless night."Have I? Sorry. Work's been demanding."

A lie. His family company practically ran itself, generations of wealth ensuring he needed to do little more than show up for board meetings and sign occasional papers. No, what kept him awake wasn't work but guilt. The gift that kept giving.

"I worry about you," I reached across the table, taking his hand in mine. "You're still punishing yourself over things you can't change."

He flinched slightly at the gentle accusation, eyes darting away from mine. "It's not that simple, Rose."

"Isn't it? Camille is gone." I softened my voice, the perfect blend of compassion and practicality. wouldn't want you torturing yourself like this."

Stefan pulled his hand back, jaw tightening. "You don't know what she would want."

Actually, I did. My pathetic sister had wanted precisely what I'd taken from her, Stefan, our parents'approval, social standing, success. But pointing that out wouldn't serve my current purpose.

"You're right," I conceded, allowing a hint of hurt to enter my voice. "I just hate seeing you suffer."

He sighed, immediately guilty for snapping at me. Predictable. Stefan's need to be the good guy, the gentleman, made him so easy to steer. Show the slightest wound, and he'd bend over backward to heal it.

"I'm sorry," he said, taking my hand again. "I know you're trying to help. It's just... hard sometimes."

"Of course it is." I gave him the smile | reserved for moments like this, understanding, patient, supportive.The smile that said I would wait forever for him to heal, to be whole again. The smile that was the biggest lie of all.

Because I didn't want him healed. I didn't want him whole. I wanted him broken just enough to be pliable.Strong enough to be useful, weak enough to be controlled.

"I have an idea," I said, brightening as if the thought had just occurred to me. In reality, I'd planned this conversation for weeks, waiting for the perfect morning to execute it. "Let's get away this weekend.The Hampton house is empty. Just us, the beach, no reminders of... everything."

Stefan hesitated, and I could read his thoughts as clearly as if they were projected on his forehead.A weekend away meant intimacy.Commitment.Moving forward. Steps he'd been reluctant to take despite our now-public relationship.

"I have that charity thing Saturday," he offered weakly.

"Reschedule." I kept my tone light, but with a firmness that suggested disappointment at his resistance."The children with cancer will understand if you help them next weekend instead."

The jab landed perfectly. His face flushed with shame at the implied selfishness of choosing a charity event over quality time with me.

"You're right," he agreed, already reaching for his phone. "I'll have my assistant rearrange things."

Victory. Small but significant. One more crack in the wall of guilt that had kept him emotionally distant these past months.

"Perfect. I'll pack for both of us." I stood, dropping a kiss on his forehead. "I have meetings all day, but I'll be backtonight to help you finish those board reports."

Another calculated move. Stefan hated the quarterly reports his father insistedI he complete personally. By offering help, I reminded him of my value beyond the emotional. I was partner, assistant, lover, friend,everything he needed in one perfectly packaged woman.

The afternoon brought a message from him: *Ring is ready. Don't peek if you go by the jeweler's

The winking emoji, so unlike his usual formal texting style, confirmed my success. He was feeling playful,romantic even. The emotional distance dissolving precisely on schedule.

I replied with calculated enthusiasm: *No spoilers please! So excited for our weekend away *

Just enough girlish anticipation to flatter him, not enough to seem desperate. The perfect balance I'd maintained throughout our relationship.

The Hamptons house belonged to Stefan's family, a sprawling beachfront property where we'd spent time together years ago, before I'd orchestrated his marriage to Camille. The place held memories for us,manufactured ones on my part, genuine on his.

I'd arranged everything, private chef for Friday night, horseback riding Saturday morning (Stefan's favorite activity, one Camille had always been too afraid to join), sunset cruise that evening. Sunday would bring a carefully curated brunch followed by a walk on the beach where, if all went.according to plan, Stefan would finally propose.

The house looked perfect when we arrived, fresh flowers in every room, champagne chilling, gourmet snacks arranged artfully in the kitchen. Stefan whistled appreciatively as we entered the great room with its soaring ceilings and wall of windows facing the Atlantic.

"They've outdone themselves," he remarked, setting down our bags. "Almost like they were expecting a special occasion."

I kept my expression neutrally pleased. "Your family always maintains impeccable standards. One of the things I love about the Rodriguez way."

The afternoon passed in comfortable luxury, champagne on the deck, a walk along the private beach,

preparations for the dinner I'd arranged. Stefan grew increasingly nervous as evening approached, checking his pocket periodically, excusing himself to make phone calls Ipretended not to recognize as consultations with friends about the impending proposal.

Dinner was served on the deck, ocean waves providing perfect background music, sunset painting the sky in colors that seemed arranged specifically for this moment. The chef had prepared all Stefan's favorites,seafood appetizer, perfectly cooked steak, chocolate dessert that complemented the red wine.

"Shall we walk along the shore?" Stefan suggested afterward, voice slightly higher than normal."Beautiful night for it."

We strolled hand-in-hand down the wooden steps to the beach, shoes left behind, waves lapping gently at our feet. The full moon created a silver path across the water, nature's own engagement backdrop.

Stefan stopped at precisely the spot l'd anticipated, turning to face me. "Rose..."

"Yes?" I kept my expression open, expectant.

"These past months..." He paused, gahering himself. "These past months have been impossible in so many ways.Losing Camille. The guilt. The pain. I couldn't havei survived without you."

I remained silent, allowing him his prepared speech. The moonlight cast half his face in shadow, making him look older, more serious than the boy I'd first targeted years ago.

"I know it's complicated," he continued. "I know people will talk. But life is too short to deny what's real.What's always been real between us."

He reached into his pocket, withdrawing the small velvet box. My heart quickened despite knowing exactly what was coming. Victory, at last.

"I should have done this years ago," Stefan said, voice steadying as he dropped to one knee."Before London. Before everything got so complicated. I should have followed my heart from the beginning."

The box opened to reveal Grandmother Rosa's ring, diamond catching moonlight in brilliant flashes. Stefan had indeed had it sized, the band altered to fit my finger rather than Camille's.

"Rose Lewis," he said, looking up at me with an earnestness that almost, almost touched something in my carefully guarded heart. "Will you marry me?"

The moment stretched between us, ocean waves punctuating the silence. I could practically hear the tumblers falling into place, the locked door of my ambition finally opening to reveal the prize beyond.

I allowed tears to fill my eyes, not difficult to manufacture given the magnitude of my achievement. Let my hands tremble slightly as they reached for his face.

whispered. "Stefan, yes. Always yes."

His smile blazed with relief and joy as he slid the ring onto my finger. The weight of it, the tangible symbol of my victory, sent a rush of satisfaction through me.

Later that night, as Stefan slept peacefully beside me, mny phone lit up with a message from Jenny:*Confirmation from Kane Industries the meeting is for next Tuesday. Their representative, Her daughter Camille Kane, will not be in attendance so they sent another person instead, arrive at 2 PM sharp.*

I frowned slightly. Victoria Kane's recently revealed adopted daughter. The mysterious heiress who had appeared out of nowhere last year, featured in business publications but rarely photographed clearly. An unknown factor in my carefully controlled world.

No matter. By Tuesday, I would be officially engaged to Stefan Rodriguez, wearing his grandmother's ring,planning our life together. Whatever this Kane wanted to discuss about investing in my business would simply be icing on an already perfect cake.

I returned to bed, curling against Stefan's sleeping form, the ring catching moonlight as I settled my hand possessively on his chest. Everything had gone according to plan. Everything had fallen into place.

Why, then, did I dream that night of drowning? Of water filling my lungs as I sank into darkness? Of a familiar face watching from above, not with Camille's usual forgiveness, but with something new, something dangerous.

Something that looked remarkably like vengeance.