Chapter 16 {Adoptive Parents}

The hour passed quickly, marked only by the gentle rise and fall of Echinacia's chest as she drifted into a light sleep. The noise of the gala faded into a distant hum, replaced by the quiet rhythm of her own breathing.

When she finally stirred, she stretched languidly, feeling slightly refreshed despite the brief interruption to her schedule. She glanced at her watch – precisely one hour had elapsed. Her grandfather's request had been fulfilled.

With a graceful movement, she rose from her chair, smoothing out the wrinkles in her gown. She offered a polite nod to a nearby waiter who attempted to offer her a refreshment, then turned and began to make her way towards the exit.

Her departure was almost unnoticed amidst the ongoing festivities. She slipped through the grand doors with an effortless grace, stepping out into the cool night air.

The Swan Villa loomed before her, a sprawling mansion that exuded an air of sterile elegance. Echinacia didn't linger, simply parking the BMW in the designated driveway and stepping out, her expression unreadable. She bypassed the main entrance, opting instead for a discreet side door that led directly into the expansive library.

The scent of old books and polished wood filled the air, a familiar yet unwelcome aroma. She didn't bother to greet the housekeeper who hurried past, her footsteps echoing softly on the marble floor. The thought of facing Jacob and Ella, her adoptive parents, filled her with a simmering resentment. Their constant attempts to mold her into their ideal daughter had always felt suffocating, a relentless pressure that she desperately tried to resist.

The more she contemplated their wellmeaning but misguided efforts to control her life, the more irritated she became.

The next morning Echinacia was wearing her morning pink nightgown her white slender legs showed off. Ella was drinking her tea and she slammed her magazine and she stared at her daughter.

"Why aren't you dressed? Is this how you act when we aren't around?" Ella snapped coldly at Echinacia. If it was her pervious life she would have been sad and upset but now she doesn't care.

"This is our house do I need to be pretty all the time? Thank you Housekeeper Jones," Echinacia said. Ella slammed her palm down and sat her cup down and she cleared her throat.

"You will have to come with me for a photo shoot for my magazine," Ella said she did not ask her at all.

Echinacia arched an eyebrow at her mother's demand, a flicker of annoyance flashing across her face. The idea of participating in a photo shoot for Ella's magazine was the last thing she wanted to do, especially given her current state of dress.

"And if I refuse?" she asked calmly, her voice devoid of the usual deference she might have shown in her previous life.

Ella's eyes narrowed, her grip tightening around the teacup. She clearly wasn't used to being defied, especially by her own daughter.

"You will not refuse," Ella stated firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"This is important for the family's image. You will come with me and you will smile and look pretty for the cameras."

Echinacia sighed heavily, rolling her eyes. She knew it was pointless to argue further Ella would not back down until she got what she wanted. With a resigned shrug, she turned to leave the room.

"I'll be ready in an hour," she muttered over her shoulder, already dreading the ordeal ahead.

An hour later, Echinacia descended the grand staircase, her steps deliberate and measured. She had changed into a simple white sundress, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail. Her expression was one of resigned acceptance, her eyes slightly glazed over as if she were already mentally detached from the situation.

Ella waited at the bottom of the stairs, her perfectly coiffed hair and impeccable designer outfit a stark contrast to Echinacia's casual appearance. She frowned slightly as she took in her daughter's attire, clearly disapproving but too impatient to insist on a change.

"Let's go," Ella snapped, turning on her heel and marching towards the waiting car.

Echinacia followed silently, sliding into the back seat beside her mother.

The car ride was a tense and silent affair. Ella meticulously applied lipstick in the vanity mirror, her movements precise and controlled. Echinacia stared out the window, watching the city blur past, lost in her own thoughts. She barely registered the luxurious interior of the car or the expensive perfume that permeated the air.

Finally, they arrived at a sprawling studio bathed in bright sunlight. A flurry of activity greeted them as stylists, photographers, and assistants buzzed around, preparing for the shoot.

"Alright, Echinacia," Ella said, turning to her daughter with a critical eye.

"Let's try to make this quick. I have a meeting this afternoon."

Echinacia nodded silently, allowing herself to be ushered towards a makeup chair by one of the stylists. She took a deep breath honestly she was grateful this woman wasn't her biological mother at all didn't say anything out loud. As the stylists worked their magic, transforming Echinacia's casual look into a more polished, magazineready appearance, she couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. Her natural red hair, now freed from its usual pink dye, shimmered under the studio lights. It was a reminder of her past life, a life she had left behind.

Ella watched the transformation with a critical eye, nodding approvingly as the stylist stepped back to reveal their handiwork. Echinacia looked every inch the perfect socialite daughter elegant, poised, and pictureperfect.

"Much better," Ella murmured, satisfied with the result.

The photographer signaled for Echinacia to take her place in front of the camera. She moved gracefully, slipping into character with an ease that belied her true feelings. The camera flashed repeatedly as she posed and smiled on command.

But even as she went through the motions, Echinacia's mind wandered.

Rosemary, in the modeling world, was a name synonymous with elegance, grace, and versatility. She was known for her striking bluegray eyes that seemed to hold a world of secrets and her cascading red hair that flowed like liquid fire. Rosemary had risen to fame quickly, her unique look and captivating presence capturing the attention of designers and photographers alike.

She was the darling of the high fashion scene, walking runways for prestigious brands and gracing the covers of renowned magazines. Her portfolio was a testament to her range – she could embody both ethereal beauty and raw sensuality with ease.

But Rosemary's success was also shrouded in mystery. Few knew anything about her personal life or her true identity. She kept a low profile, rarely granting interviews or attending public events. It was as if she existed solely within the realm of the camera's lens, a fleeting apparition that disappeared as soon as the shutter clicked.

"Wow she makes this looks easy."

"Of course she has been modeling since she was a baby," a photographer said who loved working with Echinacia she knows what she is doing.

"Rosemary look fearless!" A photographer shouted.

Echinacia, or Rosemary as she was known in the modeling world, moved with an effortless grace that belied the complexity of her emotions. She had mastered the art of detachment, of separating herself from the characters she portrayed. It was a coping mechanism, a way to maintain control in a life that often felt chaotic and unpredictable.

As she posed for the final shots, capturing the essence of fearlessness that the photographer had shouted out, Echinacia couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. She had come so far from the shy, awkward girl she once was. Modeling had given her a sense of purpose, a way to express herself without revealing too much of her true self.

But even as she basked in the admiration of those around her, Echinacia knew that this life was not her destiny. It was a means to an end, a stepping stone on her path to reclaiming her identity and exposing the truth about her past.

With a final smile for the camera, Echinacia stepped out of character. The studio lights dimmed, and the buzz of activity faded into background noise. She was Echinacia Roaz again, a woman with a mission and a secret.