Chapter 30 Outburst
RORY POV
Before I woke up in the morning, Alexander was gone. Rosemary said he'd left for work early. I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt, just a small, stupid ache in my chest.
I spent the morning doing what any desperate woman in my position would do: I Googled him.
Not much came up. For someone supposedly one of the richest men alive, he was a ghost online. A few articles mentioned his businesses, tech conglomerates like Hale Dynamics, private security firms under Miller Global, shipping empires through Black Tide Logistics. But nothing that explained why he needed a small militia guarding his hallways. Is he an armed robber? An assassin?
Don't blame me for thinking the worst, l'd seen him take a man's fingers off like he was clipping hedges.
I also did find a photo of his sister, Vivienne Miller.
She was stunning, with a sharp black bob and eyes that looked like they could freeze fire.
She looked intimidating-but then again, she shared Alexander's blood. It sucked, finding out I had a sister-in-law from a tabloid article rather than my own husband.
But I supposed that was what happened when you didn’t marry for love.
I tried to find her. The first wife. But it was like she'd been scrubbed from the digital earth. No name. No bio. Not a single image. It was like she had never existed publicly, like he had kept her completely hidden from the world or scrubbed every trace of her after she died. I found one picture of him standing beside a woman in a beautiful black gown. Her face was completely censored. Just her back and her silhouette. The headline said it was his wife.
Why would her face be censored?
I tried to push it away. Focused on Liam instead.
"Rosemary? Can you teach me how to make chicken alfredo pasta? I want to try making something special for Liam."
Growing up, I was never much of a cook. I was a sickly child, and my mother treated the kitchen like a minefield she didn't want me crossing.
After I got my own apartment I had taught myself a few things that turned out horrible more often than not. Six out of ten on lasagna had felt like a genuine achievement.
“Of course Miss,” Rosemary said warmly. “Let me grab the ingredients.”
We were halfway through searing the chicken when Liam burst in. He'd just returned from his therapist with Luke, Alexander's stony-faced assistant. I wondered why a child so young needed a therapist, but then I remembered his night terrors. He probably saw things in his sleep that I couldn't even imagine.
"Hey, Mama!" Liam chirped, running toward me.
My heart skipped a beat. Mama. The word felt heavy, like something I hadn't earned. I knelt to his height, ruffling his hair. "Hey, little man. How was vour session?"
"It was okay," he said, wrinkling his nose. "But Luke took me to Daddy's office afterward Daddy bought me these candies and told me l had to share them with you." He held out a bag of colorful gummies.
My brows furrowed.
Share with you. Like I was also in the first grade.
I am twenty seven years old for fuck sake!
Does he think I'm a toddler he needs to pacify with sugar?
"That's... sweet of him, Liam. Thank you."
“What are you making?” He looked around the kitchen.
“Chicken alfredo,” I said.
His face did something diplomatic. “Who’s teaching you?”
“Rosemary.”
“Good,” he said very seriously. “Because last time you made eggs they were—”
“They were fine Liam.”
“They were a little bit grey Rory.”
“They were slightly undercooked—”
“They were grey,” he said firmly, then immediately smiled that smile that made it impossible to be annoyed at him.
I pointed toward the door. “Go upstairs. Finish your drawing. The rose you started yesterday.”
Once he was gone, the kitchen fell into a heavy silence. I turned to Rosemary, the curiosity l'd been suppressed all morning was finally bubbling over.
"Mary... what was she like? Liam's mother?"
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly.
Rosemary's posture went rigid, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped a dish towel.
"I am refrained from speaking about my old Miss, ma'am." Her voice was polite but a bit hard.
"Oh, come on, Mary," I said softly, trying to reach out to her. "I thought we were building a friendship here. I'm not trying to pry into secrets."
"I cannot speak of her," Rosemary repeated, her voice turning sharp. "It doesn't matter that she's dead."
"I'm just asking because I want to know how to help Liam," I defended, my own voice rising in frustration. "I want to make him feel loved. I don't want him to be hurt because his mother isn't here. If I knew what she was like, maybe I could-"
Rosemary snapped. She slammed the towel onto the counter, her face flushed with a sudden, ugly anger.
“You want to know about my Miss,” she said. Her voice was shaking slightly. “My Miss was kind. She was warm and graceful and she loved this family with everything she had. She loved that little boy upstairs more than her own life.” Her voice hardened. “And you cannot replace her. No matter how hard you try. No matter how many nights you spend in Liam’s room or how many matching jackets you wear or how many cooking classes you take.” She looked at me directly. “Just because he married you doesn’t mean you belong here. Just because you share his name now doesn’t mean any of us will ever see you the way we saw her.”
I froze, I felt the air leaving my lungs.
“And don’t fool yourself into thinking the boss feels anything for you. The only woman Alexander Miller has ever loved is dead. That will never change. You are not her. You will never be her. And everyone in this house knows it.”
The outburst hit me like a physical blow to the face. I had no idea l'd triggered that much venom. I looked at Rosemary, the woman I thought was my only ally in this house-and realized she saw me exactly how the rest of them did.
As a fake. A replacement. A nobody.
I hadn’t realized I was crying until I felt the wet on my cheek. I touched my face and found it there , one tear that had escaped without asking permission.
I looked at Rosemary.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I turned and ran upstairs. Barely made it to my room before the sobs came, silent, choking, my entire body shaking, I slid down the door. Knees to chest. Arms wrapped around myself.
Nobody wanted me here. I had known it from the beginning, felt it in the way the staff looked at me, in the careful distance they keptx I had thought maybe Rosemary was different. She had been warm. She had called me Miss Aurora and taught me to make lasagna and smiled at me in the mornings.
But I had thought wrong.