Chapter 6
1267 Words
Rose's POV
The apartment felt too quiet that night. The faint hum of the heater filled the air, but it did little to drown out the thoughts swirling in my mind. I stared at my phone, Angelo's last text glaring up at me like a warning:
"Tick tock."
I clenched the phone tightly, my nails digging into the edge. Angelo always knew how to worm his way under my skin. He had a talent for dredging up the past, for twisting the knife when I was already bleeding.
And now, with Jack back in town, it was only a matter of time before everything fell apart.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the anxiety that gnawed at my chest. Work was supposed to be my escape, the one place where I could pretend everything was fine. But now Jack was everywhere-on every flyer, every poster, every news segment.
And then there was Ellie.
The guilt hit me like a freight train every time I thought about her. My sweet, vibrant daughter, who had no idea who her father was.
---
It had been my stepmother, Margaret, who'd pushed me to leave Ellie in her care.
"Focus on your career," she'd said, her voice smooth but hollow. "You can't drag a child around while you're trying to make something of yourself."
At the time, I'd agreed. Margaret had insisted it was temporary, that she wanted to help me rebuild my life after everything fell apart. But now, looking back, I realized she'd had other motives.
Margaret wasn't the woman she used to be. The polished, controlling stepmother who once dictated my every move had crumbled into a bitter shadow of herself.
Once, she'd been the queen of Mayfield's social scene-a woman who thrived on status and power. But when the family fortune dried up, so did her charm.
Now she spent her days in a rundown house on the edge of town, her evenings drowning in cheap whiskey and betting money she didn't have.
And Ellie was stuck there with her.
---
I hated leaving Ellie with Margaret. The house reeked of stale alcohol, the furniture was worn and mismatched, and Margaret's temper flared unpredictably. But I didn't have a choice.
"Mommy's working hard to make things better," I'd told Ellie once, brushing her curls out of her face as I kissed her goodnight. "You're my shining star, Ellie. Don't ever forget that."
She'd smiled up at me with those bright, innocent eyes, her tiny arms wrapping around my neck. "I love you, Mommy."
The memory made my chest ache. I knew I wasn't being fair to her. She deserved better than this mess I'd created.
---
My phone buzzed, dragging me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen and groaned when I saw Margaret's name.
"What now?" I muttered, swiping to answer.
"Rosie!" Margaret's voice slurred through the line. "You haven't visited your little girl in days."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I was there two days ago, Margaret."
"Well, she's asking for you," Margaret snapped. "I can't keep entertaining her. I've got my own problems, you know!"
"Like what? Gambling debts?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted it.
"Don't you dare judge me, you ungrateful little-" Margaret cut herself off with a sharp exhale. "You're lucky I've been watching her all this time. You'd be nowhere without me."
My jaw tightened. "You're right, Margaret. Thank you for reminding me."
There was a long pause, and then Margaret's tone softened-an attempt at manipulation I knew all too well.
"She's such a sweet girl, Rosie," Margaret said. "You don't want her growing up thinking her mother doesn't care, do you?"
I closed my eyes, guilt twisting in my gut. "I'll be there tomorrow."
---
The drive to Margaret's house the next morning was agonizingly slow. The snowstorm had passed, but the roads were still icy, and the town felt eerily quiet.
Margaret's house loomed at the end of the street, its paint peeling and shutters hanging crookedly. It was a far cry from the grand estate she'd once ruled with an iron fist.
I parked in the driveway and stepped out, my breath visible in the frigid air. The porch creaked under my weight as I knocked on the door.
It swung open a moment later, and there she was-Margaret Bennett, dressed in a wrinkled robe, a cigarette dangling from her lips.
"Rosie," she drawled, her bloodshot eyes narrowing. "What a surprise."
"You called me," I reminded her, stepping inside.
The smell of stale smoke and whiskey hit me like a wall, and I had to force myself not to grimace.
"Ellie's in the living room," Margaret said, waving me off as she shuffled toward the kitchen. "I'm making coffee."
I doubted coffee was the only thing she'd pour into her mug.
---
Ellie's face lit up when she saw me, and she dropped the puzzle pieces she'd been arranging to run into my arms.
"Mommy!" she squealed, her little hands gripping my coat.
"Hi, baby," I whispered, hugging her tightly. "I missed you so much."
"Look what I made!" She pulled back, holding up a lopsided paper snowflake she'd cut out.
"It's beautiful," I said, kissing her forehead.
Her giggle was like music, and for a moment, the world didn't feel so heavy. But then Margaret's voice drifted in from the kitchen, shattering the peace.
"You know," she said loudly, "she's been asking questions."
My heart skipped a beat. "What kind of questions?"
Margaret appeared in the doorway, a mug in one hand and a cigarette in the other. "About her father."
I froze, my grip on Ellie tightening.
"She's smart, Rosie," Margaret continued, taking a long drag. "She's starting to notice things. Like how you avoid the topic every time she asks."
I swallowed hard, glancing at Ellie, who was now rearranging her puzzle pieces on the floor.
"Don't," I said quietly.
Margaret smirked. "Don't what? Tell her the truth? That her father's some big-shot soccer star who doesn't even know she exists?"
My chest tightened, anger and guilt warring inside me. "That's none of your business."
"It became my business the moment you left her here with me," Margaret snapped, her tone turning icy. "You think I don't see the way you look at her? Like you're scared she's going to find out who she really is?"
---
I stood, my hands trembling as I glared at her. "You don't get to lecture me about parenting, Margaret. Not after everything you've done."
Margaret's laugh was cold and bitter. "Oh, please. You dumped him because I told you to. You lied because you didn't have the guts to stand up to me. Don't act like a saint now, Rosie."
Her words hit like a slap, and I felt my defenses crumble.
"You've done nothing but ruin my life," I whispered. "And now you're ruining hers."
Margaret raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Careful, darling. You wouldn't want me to ruin yours again, would you?"
---
Ellie's laughter interrupted the tense silence, and I turned to see her holding up another snowflake.
"Look, Mommy!" she said brightly. "This one's even better!"
I forced a smile, swallowing the lump in my throat. "It's perfect, Ellie."
But as I knelt to hug her, Margaret's voice echoed in my mind, a sinister reminder of the truth I'd been running from.
She was right. Ellie deserved to know the truth. But telling her meant facing Jack-and everything I'd done to him.
And I wasn't sure I could.
- Writer
