ROSE''S POINT OF VIEW


    "You''ve been distanttely," 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'' Eight months since Camille''s "death." Eight months of nurturing


    Stefan through grief, providing just enoughfort to keep


    him dependent without allowing him to fully heal. A delicate bnce, but one I''d mastered through years of subtle maniption.


    Stefan looked


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


    Alle. His familypany practically ran itself, generations of wealth ensuring he needed to do little more thah show up for board meetings and sign asional papers, No, what kept him awake wasn''t work but


    "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 usation, eyes darting away from mine. "It''s not that simple, Rose."


    "Isn''t it? Camille is gone." I softened my voice, the perfect blend ofpassion and practicality. "She 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, sess. 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 I reserved for moments like this, understanding, patient, supportive. The that said I would wait forever for him to heal, to be whole again. The smile that was the biggest lie o "I have an idea," I said, brightening as if the thought had just urred to me. In reality, I''d nned this conversation for weeks, waiting for the perfect morning to execute it. "Let''s get away this weekend. The Ha 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 public rtionship.


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


    "Reschedule." I kept my tone light, but with a firmness that suggested disanneinemani se li


    children witis


    The jabnded 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. Il 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 back tonight to help you finish those board reports."


    Another calcted move. Stefan hated the quarterly reports his father insisted heplete personally. By offering help, I reminded him of my value beyond the emotional. I was partner, assistant, lover, friend, e


    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 sess. He was feeling yful, romantic even. The emotional distance dissolving precisely on schedule.


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


    Just enough girlish anticipation to tter him, not enough to seem desperate. The perfect bnce I''d maintained throughout our rtionship:


    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 ce held memories for us, ma


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


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


    The afternoon passed infortable 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, checkin 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 favorite "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, wavespping gently at our feet. The full moon created a silver path across the wate


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


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


    "These past months..." He paused, gathering himself. "These past months have been impossible in so many ways. Losing Camille. The guilt. The pain. I couldn''t have 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''splicated," 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 wasing. Victory, atst.


    "I should have done this years ago," Stefan said, voice steadying as he dropped to one knee. "Before London. Before everything got soplicated. I should have followed my heart from the beginning." The box opened to reveal Grandmother Rosa''s ring, diamond catching moonlight in brilliant shes. 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 ce, 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.


    "Yes," I whispered. "Stefan, yes. Always yes."


    His smile zed 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, my 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 nowherest year, featured in business publications but rarely photographed clearly. An u No matter. By Tuesday, I would be officially engaged to Stefan Rodriguez, wearing his grandmother''s ring, nning our life together. Whatever this Kane wanted to discuss about investing in my business would I returned to bed, curling against Stefan''s sleeping form, the ring catching moonlight as I settled possessively on his chest. Everything had gone ording to n. Everything had fallen into ce. my hand


    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 Something that looked remarkably like vengeance.