The elevator doors slid shut with a soft hiss, sealing Rose inside. The dim glow of the overhead light pooled across the mirrored walls, doubling her reflection back at her—messy hair, trembling hands, and eyes glistening with tears. The moment the metal box began its descent, she broke.
Her knees buckled slightly, her back pressing against the cold steel wall as the first sob clawed its way out of her throat. She dragged a shaky hand across her face, but the tears didn't stop. They streamed freely, dripping onto the polished floor beneath her heels.
"God," she whispered, almost choking on her breath. "Was I too harsh?"
The silence in the elevator didn't answer, only magnified her voice until it echoed back at her.
She wanted to believe she wasn't wrong. She only wanted to know him, really know him. He knew everything about her—every secret, every mistake, every scar she thought was hidden. His money, his power, his reach… all of it had dug through her life as if she were just another file in his empire. He knew about her past, her parents, her dreams, her fears. He probably even knew what she had for breakfast five years ago.
And yet, when she had asked—no, begged—to peel back just one layer of him, he had shut her out with that cold, unreadable stare.
"Is it a crime to want to know him?" she whispered again, hugging her arms to her chest.
Her gaze fell to her left hand. The finger that had, just minutes ago, borne the weight of his ring. It was bare now, stripped of that promise she wasn't sure she could carry.
Rose squeezed her eyes shut, the image stabbing at her chest. A shaky sigh rattled her lungs. Part of her screamed that she had gone too far, that he didn't deserve her anger. Another part of her whispered with equal force that she was right, that it was only fair to demand honesty from the man who had claimed her so completely with those ice-blue eyes.
She wasn't asking for riches. She wasn't asking for palaces or power. She was only asking to know the man behind the mask. The man behind the scars. The man who, for reasons she couldn't yet comprehend, had chosen her.
The elevator dinged, pulling her from her spiral. She blinked furiously, wiping her cheeks with the back of her sleeve. The doors slid open, and the lobby of the building came into view—golden lights, polished marble, and the quiet hum of late-night emptiness.
Rose stepped out, her heels clicking softly against the floor, but she barely made it three steps before colliding with a broad chest.
"Whoa."
She stumbled back, looking up to find herself staring into the scarred face of Alexei. His brow furrowed immediately, his sharp eyes catching the redness around hers, the glimmer of tears still fresh.
"Rose," he said, voice low but edged with concern. "Where are you going at this hour?"
Her lips parted, but no words came out at first. She inhaled shakily, looking away from him as if the marble floor was suddenly fascinating.
"Rose?" he pressed, his tone softening now, no longer the curt sharpness of the bodyguard but the wary gentleness of someone who had seen her break before.
"I'm just—" She forced a breath. "I'm just tired. I need a moment."
His jaw clenched. "What happened?"
The question scraped against her already raw emotions, but she held up a hand before he could say more. "Please, Alexei. Not now."
Her voice cracked at the edges, and the look in his eyes told her he wanted to demand answers, to push, to follow. But she couldn't handle it, not with her chest already splitting apart.
"I'll stay out tonight," she added quickly, brushing past him before he could trap her in his gaze again.
"Rose—"
But she didn't stop. She moved through the glass doors and into the cool bite of Manhattan's night air.
The city greeted her with its symphony of chaos—horns blaring, voices echoing down the street, the ever-present hum of traffic weaving through avenues lit by neon signs and restless life. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself as the evening breeze tugged at her hair.
Fifteen minutes. She walked aimlessly, the click of her heels steady against the pavement, each step both grounding and heavy. Her chest still burned, her eyes swollen, but the distance helped. The further she moved from the tower of glass and steel that housed him, the easier it was to breathe.
Eventually, she found herself in a quieter part of the street. A random bench sat beneath the glow of a flickering streetlamp. She sank onto it with a long, weary exhale, her body folding as though she had been carrying the weight of the world.
For a moment, she just sat there, staring at the glowing screen of her phone. The world blurred around her. Cars passed, and strangers walked by, but she was suspended in her own fragile bubble of silence.
Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard before she finally typed the words that had been forming in her mind since the ring left her finger.
ROSE: Can I stay with you tonight? Are you still around Manhattan?
She pressed send and held her breath, her eyes glued to the screen. The minutes stretched painfully, each second a reminder of how alone she suddenly felt. Then, finally, the three dots appeared, blinking like a heartbeat.
The reply came through.
ALEJANDRO: What happened? Please don't tell me he kicked you out right after proposing to you.
Her chest tightened at his words. She could almost hear the disbelief in his tone, the protective edge beneath his teasing. She typed quickly, her fingers trembling.
ROSE: I'll explain later. Where are you?
This time, his reply came faster.
ALEJANDRO: I'm staying over at Kile's new apartment. I'll send you the address.
Seconds later, a message popped up with a location pin. Rose tapped it open, scanning the map. It wasn't far. If she grabbed a cab, she'd be there in less than fifteen minutes.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she rose from the bench. The flickering streetlamp buzzed above her, casting her shadow long and fragile across the sidewalk. She lifted a hand and hailed a cab, her heart pounding as if she were running away from more than just a building.
A yellow taxi slowed to the curb with a squeak of tires. She opened the door, slipping into the backseat.
The driver, a middle-aged man with tired eyes, glanced at her through the mirror. "Where to?"
She gave him the address softly, almost as though speaking louder might break her.
The cab pulled away from the curb, merging into the restless current of Manhattan traffic. Rose leaned her head against the window, the cool glass soothing against her fevered skin. The city lights blurred past in streaks of gold and red, every honk and shout muffled through the barrier of her thoughts.
She closed her eyes, breathing slowly. Her chest ached with confusion, with the sting of words unsaid and truths unmet. She didn't know what tomorrow would look like, or what she would even say when she saw him again. All she knew was that tonight, she couldn't bear the weight of those cold blue eyes.
The cab turned another corner, and she lifted her gaze, watching as unfamiliar streets bled into the quieter blocks closer to Kile's new place. Her phone buzzed again in her lap, but she didn't check it right away. Her heart was too loud, her mind too full.
She exhaled shakily, pressing her forehead to the window, the cityscape rolling by like a film reel.
And somewhere deep down, she wondered if she had just run away from the man she was meant to love—or if she had taken the first step toward truly knowing herself.
The cab slowed, drawing nearer to the address Alejandro had sent. Rose straightened, nerves twisting in her stomach.
The apartment building loomed ahead, its dark windows waiting.
The cab rolled to a slow stop at the curb, its tires crunching softly against the pavement. Rose blinked back the blur of city lights as her world steadied once more.
"That'll be fifteen twenty," the driver said, glancing back briefly.
She fumbled inside her bag with shaky hands, pulling out a crumpled bill and pressing it into his palm with a murmured "Keep the change." The door handle felt icy against her skin as she pushed it open and stepped out into the crisp Manhattan night.
The apartment building rose above her, tall and modern, its glass entrance glowing warmly against the dark street. Her heels clicked softly against the concrete as she approached, her pulse beating louder with each step. And then she froze.
At the entrance, beneath the wash of golden lobby light, stood three familiar figures.
Alejandro. Matt. Kile.
They weren't laughing, weren't talking. They were waiting.
Her throat tightened. The tears she had fought so hard to hold back in the cab came rushing without mercy. She quickened her steps, her body moving before her mind could catch up, until she was running—running straight into the circle of her friends.
She threw her arms around them, clutching desperately as the sobs spilled free, her face burying into the nearest shoulder. Alejandro's hands came up instinctively, steady and firm against her trembling back.
"Rose," Alejandro's voice was sharp, urgent, though gentled by worry. "What the hell happened? Why are you crying? And where—" He pulled back slightly, his eyes darting to her bare hand. His voice cracked with disbelief. "Where the hell is your damn ring?"
Matt's eyes widened, confusion flashing across his features. Kile's brows drew together, his gaze searching her as though the answer might be written on her tear-streaked face.
Alejandro's tone sharpened, though not unkind. "Just hours ago, Nikolai proposed. Everyone was happy. What the hell happened between then and now?"
Rose's chest heaved as she tried to form words, but her lungs felt crushed beneath the weight of his questions. She raised a trembling hand, wiping at her face. "I… I can't—" Her voice broke. "I want to sit down first."
Alejandro inhaled slowly, as if holding back a flood of things he wanted to say, and then he gave a tight nod. "Alright."
They didn't push her. Instead, the three of them closed ranks around her, protective without words, and guided her through the glass doors.
The lobby smelled faintly of polished wood and fresh lilies, the air warm compared to the sharp cold outside. The elevator chimed open almost immediately, and the four of them stepped inside.
Rose leaned against the wall, her reflection staring back at her in the mirrored interior—red eyes, streaked mascara, lips trembling with words she wasn't ready to say. The silence pressed in thick, broken only by the soft hum of the elevator as it carried them upward.
The numbers glowed above the door. 8… 9… 10…
By the time it reached the 14th floor, her heartbeat was drumming so loudly in her ears she thought the others must hear it too.
The doors parted, revealing a long hallway with sleek walls and plush carpeting muffling their footsteps. Kile led the way, pulling a keycard from his pocket and swiping it at the door of a spacious apartment.
"Come in," he murmured, stepping aside for her.
The space inside was warm and open, modern furniture filling the wide living area, its walls lined with bookshelves and framed art. City lights spilled through the large windows, painting the apartment in shifting blues and silvers.
"I'll make coffee," Kile said quickly, almost too quickly, retreating into the kitchen as if the task gave him a place to hide his nerves. The clatter of a spoon against porcelain followed.
Alejandro guided Rose gently toward the couch, his hand steady on her arm. She sank into the soft cushions, her body folding into itself, the exhaustion of the night finally dragging her down.
Alejandro sat beside her, close but not crowding, his gaze never leaving her face. "Alright," he said softly, his voice low, steady. "Tell me what happened."
Her lips parted, but it took her a moment to find her voice. She stared down at her trembling hands, at the absence of the ring that had once shone so bright.
Finally, she drew in a ragged breath and whispered, "I… I might have ended things with him."
The words dropped into the room like shards of glass.
From the kitchen came the sharp gasp of Matt, loud and unrestrained. "You what?"
A second later, the spoon Kile had been holding clattered to the floor, the metallic ring echoing against the tiles.
And Alejandro—Alejandro just stared. His eyes fixed on her, unblinking, as if he couldn't quite process the confession that had just spilled from her lips.
The silence that followed was thick, suffocating, stretching longer with every heartbeat.