Chapter 7
Despite sleeping in a simple tent outdoors, I felt an unprecedented sense of peace.
Come moming. I groggily emerged from the tent to find Ethan Parker had already set up his easel, his expression serious and focused. The morning sun rose slowly, its gentle rays caressing every inch of my skin.
I gazed towards the rising sun, seeing it as my new beginning.
“Don’t move, sis!” Ethan suddenly called out excitedly. Startled, I froze in place, only able to glimpse him from the corner of my eye.
Clearly, he had made me his impromptu model.
When he finished, I finally rubbed my sore neck.
Being a model wasn’t as easy as it looked.
“Let me massage that for you. Thanks for being my muse.” Ethan said, his strong hands working on my shoulders.
I closed my eyes contentedly, savoring his massage.
On our way down the mountain, Ethan couldn’t stop talking about the inspiration he’d just had.
I’d seen the painting and thought it looked quite nice, but I couldn’t grasp much beyond that.
As soon as we returned, Ethan disappeared into his own yard.
I turned on the TV, and Carter Lockwood’s face suddenly appearing on the screen made me recoil in surprise.
My hand, poised to change the channel, hesitated.
I was grateful for the decision I’d made last night. Carter Lockwood was omnipresent on TV and online.
I couldn’t avoid him forever.
In the news interview, Carter seemed unchanged.
When asked about recent rumors of marital troubles, his expression remained cold and detached.
“My wife is just throwing a tantrum. She’ll be back after she’s done with her little adventure.”
Everyone envied me, an orphan with no one to rely on, taken in by the Lockwood Family’s matriarch and successfully married to Carter Lockwood. They said it was a blessing from my past life.
But only those in the midst of it knew the truth: to be ignored by everyone, resented by Carter Lockwood, holding the empty title of Mrs. Lockwood. yet still rootless within the Lockwood Family.
Every year when the Yellow Roses bloomed, Carter Lockwood would have the staff cut the flowers from the yard and fill the house’s vases.
The piano in the Glass Conservatory was dusted daily by the staff.
Rose Turner was dead, but Carter Lockwood kept reminding me of her existence everywhere.
“We’ve heard that your argument with Mrs. Lockwood was because of the assistant you’ve been keeping close lately?”
Carter Lockwood frowned impatiently, habitually reaching to touch the wedding ring on his finger.
But there was nothing there.
He remembered that Anna Whitmore had been quite defiant this time, returning his ring and daring to run away secretly.
He recalled the day the butler called him in a panic, saying the missus had disappeared,
When he returned home, he found Anna Whitmore’s side of the closet emptied.
Only his suits hung there, looking forlorn.
It was nothing more than her running away to force him to get rid of that woman who looked like Rose Turner.
He knew that what she cared about most were Rose Turner’s things, let alone a woman who resembled Rose Turner. But so what?
Grandma was gone, and she had no family. He was her only support.
As a child, when she was upset, she liked to hide alone.
In the past, Grandma had indulged her.
Now, he didn’t have the patience to look for her.
Once she’d had enough of hardship out there, she’d realize how good she had it with the Lockwood Family. She’d come back eventually. So he told the butler, “She’s just an orphan. Where else can she go without the Lockwood Family?
“No one is to go looking for her. Just notify me when she returns.”
