The house was silent when Rose returned. Her heels clicked against the marble tiles like accusations. Her mother sat in the living room, a cold cup of tea untouched in her hands, her eyes were red and swollen from all the crying she had done that night. Neither of them spoke as Rose walked past her. There was nothing left to say.
Rose went to her sister's room and saw her cute little portraits on the wall. She saw portraits of herself too. She saw words of affirmation most of them from what Rose always told her.
Her eyes were filled up with tears she didn't let fall.
Rose's throat burned as she kissed a picture of her sister in her hands.
"I'm going to fix this," she whispered.
She didn't sleep. Instead, she sat by the window and watched the sun crawl into the sky like a reluctant promise. By morning, she had packed a suitcase with essentials—scrubs, a few books, some sweaters, and a photo of her and Bella from two years ago and walked out the door before her mother could stop her.
By noon, a sleek black car arrived outside the hospital. Rose stood waiting on the steps, her white coat flapping in the breeze. The driver stepped out with an envelope in hand.
"The contract," he said, bowing slightly. "Mr. Salvadore requests you review and sign it by this evening."
Rose accepted the envelope wordlessly and returned to the staff lounge.
"Excuse me ma'am."
She turned.
"This is a blank check from Mr Salvadore. He said you would need it. " The driver said as he handed it to her and returned to his car.
She went back in and sat at a corner table and opened the thick stack of legal pages.
The first few clauses were expected—financial compensation, Bella's treatment paid in full, housing arrangements, revival of the company.
But then came the unexpected:
Clause 17: The wife of Mr. Salvadore shall not engage in romantic relationships for the duration of the marriage.
Clause 21: The wife shall attend all public functions and family events alongside Mr. Salvadore.
Clause 33: No annulment or dissolution shall be initiated without the express consent of Mr. Salvadore before three years time.
Rose's hand tightened around the papers. Her vision blurred. It wasn't just a marriage—it was imprisonment dressed as legal formality.
She didn't finish her shift. Instead, she took a cab straight to Dante's estate.
The Dante mansion sat at the edge of the cliffs, the sea roaring angrily below like it knew what sins were committed in the house above. Two guards opened the grand doors for her.
Dante was waiting in the lounge, dressed in black slacks and a button-down shirt, nursing a glass of amber liquid. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes locked on her with interest.
"You like those terms mama?" he asked coolly.
Rose dropped the contract on the coffee table.
"This isn't what we agreed."
"You asked for a price. I named it. You accepted."
"You didn't say anything about isolation or being your public trophy!"
Dante leaned forward, voice calm but sharp. "You wanted your sister safe. I want my name secure. This marriage will be seen. Photographed. Analyzed. I can't have my bride sneaking around like some scandal."
"So I'm just your shield?"
He smirked. "You're a bargain. One I paid well for."
Rose's nails dug into her palms. "You think you can control everything. But I'm not some pawn in your game."
He stood then, slow and deliberate, walking to a nearby fireplace where an old photograph rested. Rose's anger flickered as she followed his gaze.
"We can't go public. There are so many reasons as to why."
"Talk to me mama." Dante responded.
"First and foremost. Don't call me mama or any other romantic name. It's not even Rosie to you. It's Rose. Also imagine how people will look at me at work after marrying a Salvadore days after saving the youngest of them with my blood urgently. Life won't only be hard for me in the hospital. Patients won't trust me. Supervisors and seniors will feel ashamed of me."
He walked up slowly to her and bet his head towards hers. She slightly tilted her head and he reached for the contract and tore it.
He reached out for one of his assistants.
"Draft a new one . Without the clause of going out publicly now."
"Wanna sit for a drink.?" Dante said, showing her a chair.
"No, I'm fine, thank you."she responded.
"Sit down Rose!" He said now with a higher tone and more commanding voice that shakes her slightly.
She sat down and after a few minutes, the new draft was brought in.
"I'll sign now," she said tightly. "But I won't love you. Not today. Not ever."
He turned back to her, his face hardened once more.
"Good. Love is a liability." Then signed the copy . And each party had a copy of the contract.
That evening, she returned to the hospital to check on Bella one last time before the surgery. Nurses greeted her with subdued nods, unaware of the strange arrangement swirling around her.
As she stepped into Bella's private room, her heart melted. The child was awake and was eating some custard. She needed to eat something light-thick.
"Rosie!" Bella beamed. "I'm so sorry Rosie I had no idea it was drugged.I'm so sorry. We don't really need the surgery now. I'm okay."
Rose smiled through the lump in her throat. "Shut your mouth up. I have this figured out. It's not expensive and we were able to raise it. So all you need to do is focus on your recovery okay?."
She sat beside Bella, brushing hair back from her pale forehead.
"Will you be okay without me for a little while?"
"Where are you going?"
"I… I'm getting married."
Bella's mouth dropped. "Awwn, that's so sweet. I'm so happy for you sis. So who's the lucky guy?"
"Don't bother. You'll see him when you're out." She said, smiling slightly.
"But it's private. Not many people are supposed to know. Okay?"
"Yes sis!" Bella replied.
"Will he be nice?"
Rose kissed her sister's cheek. "You'll always be my favorite person, okay?"
Bella hugged her tight. "I'll miss you, Rosie."
"I'll miss you too."
The next day, Rose stepped out of the hospital in civilian clothes, no longer Dr. Rose Cruz, free and brilliant. She was now going to be Rose Salvadore, wife of the most dangerous man in the city.
Two days to the wedding, she received a message to attend her dress fitting. It was scheduled at an exclusive boutique owned by the Salvadore family.
She arrived alone.
The boutique was opulent—walls draped in ivory silk, a private chamber waiting just for her. The tailor, a woman in her fifties with sharp eyes, ushered her in silently.
The dress was already chosen: a sleeveless mermaid gown, pearl white with crystal embellishments, a cathedral-length veil, and cold elegance. It fit perfectly.
But Rose didn't feel like a bride. She felt like a prisoner adorned for display.
As the tailor stepped out to grab a hair accessory, Rose stood before the mirror, lost in thought. She looked older. Her eyes weren't soft like they used to be. There was steel in them now.
A soft rustle behind her snapped her out of the trance.
She turned—but no one was there.
The hallway was empty.
No foot
steps. No sound.
The tailor returned seconds later with a tiara in hand. "Everything alright, Miss?"
Rose forced a smile. "Yes. Just nerves."