The Rebirth Of A Betrayed Heiress

She's mine.

Though she’s madly in love with another man. Though she might not remember me or might not care if I still exist. Hell, she might still hate me.

But she's still mine.

I met her in college, so reserved, so quiet. Yet she smiled and turned into a bundle of joy, yapping away whenever my best friend was close. I knew she had fallen for him and it broke my heart into a zillion pieces.

She is the rhythm that courses through my veins. She's a fire that I can't extinguish while she burns me up.

So I vowed to protect her. I allowed her live her life while I watched from afar.

I became her guardian angel and a demon lurking in the shadows.

There are things she doesn't know and shouldn't know but one thing clear is that I'd die before I let any damn soul hurt her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rosette’s point of view~~

They said grief makes you feel hollow. But right now, lying on the hospital bed, I didn't feel hollow—I felt shattered.

My baby was dead.

And I hadn’t even been allowed to hold him alive.

The nurse entered with trembling hands, carrying a small, blanketed bundle. Her eyes avoided mine. She didn’t speak.

She simply placed him beside me, as if returning something insignificant. As if handing over a handbag I’d forgotten at reception.

But he wasn’t a handbag. He was my son. My firstborn.

My breath caught, not from the breathing tube that ran down my throat, but from pain so sharp it clawed at my chest.

My hand twitched, reaching for him. I wanted to scream, to beg, to ask why. But the machines spoke louder than I could.

I couldn't scream.

I couldn't speak.

So I cried. Silent tears leaked down my cheeks as I stared at the pale, unmoving face of the baby I had carried for nine months—the baby I had loved even before he had a name. He was just three days old.

I knew who had done this. Celine and Leila.The mother of the man I loved, and his wife.

Yes, wife. Because Blake McCain, the man who once held me in his arms and whispered forever, had married another woman while keeping me by his side.

His mistress. That was what I had become. And yet, I had stayed—foolishly, blindly—because I loved him. Because I believed he still loved me. Because I thought... he didn’t know what they were doing.

But he did.

He watched as Celine criticized me, called me a gold-digger. He let Leila mock my pregnancy, even as she pretended to befriend me. He stood by while they took control of everything—my body, my baby, my life.

And now, my baby was dead.

"Oh Rosette..."

Her voice dripped with saccharine concern, like spoiled honey.

Leila.

She stepped into the room dressed like she'd just come from a gala—lips painted red, not a hair out of place. A smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

"I couldn't come earlier. I... I’m so sorry. I know how much he meant to you and the fact that you didn't even get to hold him— I'm so sorry"

I couldn’t move. But my eyes burned holes into her perfect face.

"It was so sudden," she continued, placing a hand delicately over her chest.