Revenge In Bloom

Unexpected Revelations

The streetlamps cast long, blurred shadows as Theo drove through the city. Rose sat in the passenger seat, the leather creaking softly beneath her as the quiet streets unraveled before them. Her eyes were on the night outside, but her thoughts circled the evening's events and the delicate mask tucked in her bag. A lifeline. She slipped inside the house, leaving a world of doubt behind her, and moved through the hallway with a hesitant grace. She placed her small suitcase on the bed, fingers hovering over clothes and memories, before calling Alexander for the rest.

The car was silent except for the sound of tires on pavement and the occasional hum of distant traffic. Theo’s hands were sure on the wheel, and Rose glanced at him, the enormity of what she’d agreed to still dawning on her. He offered her a reassuring smile, one that spoke of shared futures and unspoken promises.

Her heart fluttered with uncertainty and excitement, the rhythm a familiar dance between trust and doubt. She looked away, back to the blur of the city, and let her thoughts return to the mask, to what it meant, to the escape it promised.

When they reached the house, it loomed like a shadowed refuge, quiet and welcoming. Rose stepped inside, breathing in the unfamiliar scent of a new life, and tried to push away the fears that threatened to follow her.

She moved through the hallway with tentative steps, feeling the softness of the carpet and the strange comfort of a place that was not yet home. The walls seemed to watch her, whispering of change, of possibility, of a future she could scarcely imagine.

Her small carry-on sat waiting on the bed, a reminder of how far she’d come, how much she’d left behind. Her fingers hesitated over unfolded clothes, a brush, toiletries, as if touching them might erase the uncertainty that lingered. She reached for the new phone Theo had given her, the one that promised freedom and the illusion of distance.

“Alexander,” Rose said when he answered, her voice careful but hopeful, “can you bring the rest of my things?” The pause on the other end was brief, but Rose felt the weight of it, the distance that she couldn’t quite measure.

“I’ll be there,” Alexander replied, and Rose heard more than the promise in his words. She heard the echo of everything she’d left, the warmth of everything she still held on to.

She placed the phone back down, a soft click in the quiet room, and sank onto the edge of the bed. Her thoughts spiraled, endless and tangled, while the night deepened outside the window.

Hours stretched thin and fragile, like the thread of hope that bound her to this place, to Theo, to everything she hadn’t dared believe she could have. She lay back against the pillow, her eyes heavy but her mind wide awake, tracing and retracing the patterns of doubt and longing.

When the soft knock sounded at last, it startled Rose from her reverie, jolting her heart into a quicker rhythm. She opened the door to find Alexander standing there, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, the cool night air still clinging to him.

“Here you go, Rose,” he said, his expression softening when he saw her.

Rose pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the fragile certainty take shape within her. “Thank you,” she said, her smile tired but genuine, filled with more than words could say.

Alexander stepped inside, placing the bag on the floor, and Rose watched him, feeling the familiarity of his presence fill the room. He looked around, taking in the space, the life she was building, the choices she’d made. There was a moment, brief and unspoken, where everything seemed to hang in balance, a shared understanding that neither knew how to voice.

“Looks like a nice place,” Alexander finally said, the hint of a smile in his voice.

“It is,” Rose replied, and the words felt real, even though she wasn’t sure if they were true.

The house settled around them in muted quiet, the walls breathing with the possibility of belonging, the uncertainty of change. Rose sat with Alexander, feeling the weight of the journey behind her and the vast, open future ahead. For a moment, she thought of Theo, of the mask, of everything she had taken with her and everything she had left behind. But only for a moment.

The hours passed, slow and gentle, and Rose felt herself begin to believe in the fragile, beautiful new world she was reaching for.

CRASH!

The plate hurled at the servant's head exploded into a million shards.

"What the hell do you mean she's not home?" Victoria's voice was a venomous scream. "The hospital called me yesterday about her release, and we sent a driver there hours before her discharge!" she spat, pacing with fury.

“Yes, indeed. The driver you sent reported waiting at the hospital exit for hours, only to be informed by bewildered staff that Rose had departed the previous day,” the butler relayed with a grim tone.

"And no one thought to tell me this?!" Victoria's scream pierced the air, her eyes blazing.

"Well, Ma'am," the butler continued cautiously, "this isn't the first time you've asked us to retrieve the young miss on the wrong date or time.

In the past, when we’ve mentioned it, we were berated... *cough... I mean corrected and told not to bother with such petty matters. After all, she is a young woman capable of looking after herself.”

Victoria's mouth hung open, her fury churning into shock. Words failed her.

"Thank you," Marcus said curtly, dismissing the butler.

She turned to Marcus, her eyes narrowing. "I understand why I'm upset, but why are you? Weren't you the one who threatened her with homelessness if she kept that baby?"

"She wasn't supposed to just run off, Marcus," Victoria hissed through clenched teeth. "If I couldn't convince her, I was going to send her to Europe. She wasn't actually going to be homeless! God, how would that even look?"

Marcus let out a cold, bitter laugh. "Even now, all you care about is your ridiculous image. Aren't you worried about what our DAUGHTER is going through?"

Victoria took a deep breath, smoothing her dress with a façade of calm. "You know what? No. I'm not worried. Our daughter isn't cunning enough to scheme her way into money. If she's truly concerned about that brat she's carrying, she'll come crawling back at the first sign of hunger."

Marcus shook his head, a shadow of disappointment crossing his face as he walked away. "I miss who you used to be," he whispered, sending a message with a heavy heart as he disappeared from the room.

Victoria remained frozen in the center of the grand foyer, the echo of Marcus's footsteps fading down the marble corridor. His words hung in the air like suspended daggers. She closed her eyes, pushing down the unwelcome pang of something that felt dangerously close to guilt.

In his study, Marcus slumped into his leather chair, the weight of decades settling onto his shoulders. The screen of his phone glowed with the sent message: "Alexander, where is she?" Three simple words that betrayed more concern than he'd shown his daughter in years.

He stared at the family portrait on his desk—Victoria radiant and cold, himself distant but proud, Alexander brilliant and conflicted, and Rose... Rose with that careful smile that never quite reached her eyes. When had he stopped seeing that? When had his daughter's pain become background noise?

The reply came moments later: "Safe."

Just one word. Marcus felt both relief and frustration surge through him. His fingers hovered over the keys, uncertain what right he had to demand more.

Meanwhile, Alexander stood by the window in Rose's new bedroom, watching her unpack the few treasures he'd brought, her favorite books, her diary and her jewelry.

The text alert pinged on Alexander's phone. He glanced down, his expression darkening as he read the message from his father. Rose caught the subtle shift in his demeanor, the tightening around his eyes.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice small in the quiet room.

Alexander hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. "Mother's on the warpath. Apparently they just realized you're not at the hospital." He pocketed the phone, his jaw clenched. "Father wanted to warn me."

Rose wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the comfortable temperature of the room. "They'll come looking for me."

"Let them," Alexander said with quiet intensity. "They won't find you unless you want to be found."

She nodded, trying to believe him. The thought of Victoria's rage made her stomach twist, memories of shattered porcelain and cutting words slicing through her newfound peace.

"Does Theo know what they're like?" Alexander asked, his gaze traveling around the tasteful room, taking in the understated luxury that spoke of old money and quiet privilege.

"Kind of," Rose confessed, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "He knows they're... difficult. But he assumes it's just the typical overbearing rich parents scenario. I can't quite tell if that's all it is, or if we connected because we share these family struggles."

"You know I can't give you a definite answer, Rose," her brother replied, hesitantly. "Some of my friends' parents are also... difficult."

Rose sighed, her thoughts swirling. "I wonder if having money inevitably makes you that way?" she mused, torn between understanding and frustration.