Chapter 4

Dumping the contents of the bag onto the bed, I picked up the closest item—a pair of white sneakers. Beside them were a light pink hoodie and matching joggers. I silently thanked Rowland's assistant for not packing anything over-the-top or, worse, a pair of heels.

Pulling on the hoodie and sweatpants, I felt like I was wrapped in clouds. Definitely not giving these back. I padded into the bathroom and stared into the mirror. My hair was a chaotic mess, my face puffy from last night's crying, and the dark circles under my eyes painfully obvious.

"The paparazzi are going to have a field day with these pictures," I muttered to myself, sighing as I attempted to tame my curls with water.

After a few minutes of splashing and combing my fingers through my hair, I glanced into the mirror one last time. Not great, but it'll do.

I left the hotel room with my hood pulled low, trying to hide my face. As I stepped into the lobby, spotting Rowland wasn't hard. For one, he was a giant. And two, he was already walking toward me, his towering frame impossible to miss.

"Ready to go?" he asked, his tone casual.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I said with a shrug.

He reached for my hand, and before I could object, our fingers were intertwined as we headed toward the back exit of the hotel. I stared at our linked hands, feeling a strange mix of comfort and awkwardness.

"You know, a little positivity never hurt anyone," he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

"What?" I asked, snapping out of my daze.

"You're like a rain cloud. It's depressing," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I stopped walking and yanked my hand out of his. "Well, I'm so sorry if I haven't been the sunniest person around. I've had a shitty week, in case you haven't noticed. I don't need to pretend to be okay just to make you feel comfortable," I snapped.

His expression faltered for a moment before he raised his hands in surrender. "Evelyn, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I was just trying to make conversation."

"It's Evelyn Rose," I said, glaring. "At least pretend like you're listening to me."

"Okay, Evelyn Rose," he said with exaggerated patience. "Just stop walking so fast. Security needs to check if it's clear outside."

I reluctantly stopped, crossing my arms and looking up at the ceiling to calm myself. He reached out and lightly touched my shoulder. "Come on. Let's sit while we wait," he said, guiding me to a bench near the kitchen door.

We sat in silence until a mousy-looking woman stumbled into the room, nearly dropping the clipboard in her hands. "We can go now. The area is clear," she said, her voice surprisingly loud as she adjusted her glasses.

Rowland stood and gestured for me to follow him. We weaved through the bustling kitchen, dodging staff rushing to set up the breakfast buffet. My stomach growled loudly, and even through the noise, Rowland heard it. He raised an eyebrow, smirking as I clutched my stomach in embarrassment.

Finally, we reached a black SUV parked outside. He opened the passenger door for me, and I slid in, leaning my head against the cool window. It took him a moment to join me in the driver's seat.

"You're driving again?" I asked, watching the scenery as we pulled onto the road.

"Some of us actually like to drive," he said with a glance in my direction.

I let out a small laugh. "You're much prettier when you smile," he said, his tone casual but sincere.

"Yeah?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he replied with a soft smile.

The comfortable silence lasted until I noticed we weren't heading toward my house. Sitting up, I frowned. "This isn't the way home."

"I know," he said simply.

"Where are we going?"

"To get breakfast."

"You could've just said that," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Why don't you ever give straight answers?"

He shrugged, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

At the diner, I ordered waffles and practically drowned them in maple syrup. Rowland raised an eyebrow at my plate but said nothing, quietly eating his pancakes and eggs. For once, I didn't care about indulging myself. After the night I'd had, I deserved it.

Soon, we were back on the road, and I felt noticeably better. The magic of food, I guess.

---

My stomach twisted in knots as we approached my house. Paparazzi swarmed the front gate, cameras flashing even from a distance. They knew.

"We can come back later," Rowland offered, glancing at me.

"No, I can't stay away any longer. My parents must be worried. They haven't been able to reach me since the engagement party," I said, unbuckling my seatbelt.

He nodded, watching as I opened the door and bolted toward the back of the house. Two cameramen noticed me and gave chase, but I was too quick, hopping over the fence before they could reach me. Sneaking out in high school finally paid off.

I slipped through the patio door, but the yelling inside stopped me in my tracks. My stomach sank. This is going to be bad.

Trudging toward my father's study, I passed our butler, Jeeves, who gave me a sad smile and a light pat on the shoulder. As soon as I entered, the shouting ceased, and all eyes turned to me.

"Where the hell have you been?" my mother yelled before I could even greet them.

"You haven't been answering your calls!"

"How dare you disappear after disgracing this family?"

The questions flew at me like daggers.

"My… my phone fell into the water," I stammered. "It's not working."

"You could've borrowed someone else's phone. Are you that slow or just stupid?" my mother sneered.

My father hurled a magazine at my feet. Picking it up, I saw the front page: a photo of me being pulled out of the water, my face twisted in tears. Sunk by Society: Social Climber's Engagement Dreams Dashed.

"Your face is on every magazine in the country! Do you have any idea the damage you've caused?" my father roared.

"What about me?" I said quietly, cutting through their anger. Everyone froze.

"It's my face everywhere, not yours. Do you know how humiliating this is for me—"

The sharp sting of my father's slap silenced me. I hit the floor, looking up at him as tears filled my eyes. My sister smirked.

"This is what happens when you aim too high," she said, her voice dripping with mockery.

Before I could respond, my father grabbed my jaw, his grip bruising. "Get out of my sight. Now."

I didn't say a word. I left the room, my head bowed, my heart heavy.