Chapter 7
Every morning, I’d wake up to a fresh batch of missed calls, unread messages, and voicemails. Scott sent roses–three dozen to be exact, delivered to the estate with a card that read, “Still thinking of you.” Thomas wasn’t far behind, sending luxury chocolates and a handwritten letter claiming he was a “fool blinded by expectations.” I scoffed and tossed
them all in the trash.
It was ridiculous. Hilarious, even.
The same men who discarded me, who turned their backs on me when I was at my lowest, now suddenly remembered my name–now that I stood beside Rozen Blackwood.
Speaking of the man himself, Rozen leaned against the doorway to my sitting room, brows raised, phone in hand. “So… Thomas and Scott are sending daily love notes now?”
I arched a brow. “Eavesdropping?”
He smirked. “Just observant. Should I do something about it, since they’re disturbing my wife?”
Wife. The way he said it was so casual, like it wasn’t bound by a contract or soaked in irony.
I shook my head, lips twitching. “There’s no need. It’s harmless. They’re just clowns with expensive taste.”
Rozen stepped in, crossing the room until he stood in front of me. “No,” he said firmly. “I’ll do something. Seriously, Jasmine. You’re my wife. They need to know that.”
My eyes narrowed with amusement. “Aren’t we taking this marriage contract a bit too seriously?”
He leaned in, eyes dancing with something unreadable. “Of course. Possessiveness comes free with the Blackwood name.”
I snorted. “Right. And here I thought you were the logical one.”
Rozen handed me a gown draped over his arm. Elegant. Crimson. The type of dress that demanded attention. “Wear this tonight,” he said. “We’re attending a banquet. I’ll be introducing you to everyone.”
I stared at the dress, then at him. “You planned this?”
“I always plan,” he said simply. “Also–Scott and Thomas will be there. If they try anything stupid, call me.”
I nodded. “I can handle myself.”
That evening, I stood in front of the mirror, letting the last curl fall into place. The gown fit like it was tailored for me–hugging every curve, making my skin glow under the chandelier light. My makeup was soft but fierce, lips painted a shade of red that whispered danger. I looked expensive. Untouchable.
We arrived fashionably late. Rozen, in his dark velvet suit, was a vision of control and
grace. He kept me close, hand on the small of my back, introducing me as Mrs. Jasmine
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Blackwood to every elite guest present. Gasps, stares, murmurs–people loved scandal more than champagne.
“She’s absolutely stunning.”
“That’s Rozen’s wife? When did that happen?”
“I heard she used to date Thomas… and Scott?”
The whispers floated through the air like perfume. I wore them like diamonds.
As the night wore on, I played the role flawlessly. Smiling, laughing softly, nodding at the right people. I leaned into Rozen’s shoulder when necessary, touched his hand with just enough tenderness to sell the illusion. Every glance from Thomas and Scott grew darker. And I loved it.
Then came the moment I expected. While everyone was distracted by the governor’s toast, a hand wrapped around my wrist and tugged me toward the shadows behind the stage. It was Thomas.
“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed, snatching my hand away.
He looked like a man on the edge–disheveled in a way he never allowed himself to be. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”
I crossed my arms. “We’re alone. Talk fast.”
“I made a mistake,” he said, voice trembling. “I didn’t know what I was doing back then. I was scared, confused–Amber was manipulative and-”
I laughed, cutting him off. “You’re scared? Now? After everything? You helped fake my medical records. You told everyone I was unstable. And now that I have a powerful husband, you suddenly found your conscience?”
Thomas stepped forward, desperation in his eyes. “I know this is all revenge. You married Rozen just to get back at us, didn’t you? I get it now. You want me to suffer.”
“Wrong,” I said coldly. “I married him because I could. And I don’t want you to suffer, Thomas–I just want you gone.”
He reached for my arm again, but I pulled back. “Please. Don’t do this. I don’t want to lose you.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t want your ego bruised because I married your rival. This isn’t about me. This is about your pride.”
“That’s not true!”
I stepped closer, lowering my voice with a smirk. “Get this through your thick skull–I don’t need you. I don’t want you. I’m not the girl who begged for your time anymore. I’m Mrs. Blackwood now. And unlike you, Rozen knows my worth.”
His jaw clenched. “I won’t let you go.”
Without hesitation, I raised my knee and slammed it hard where it hurt most.
Thomas groaned, collapsing to the floor.
I leaned over him, voice as cold as ice. “Asshole. Don’t ever show your face to me again.”
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Thomas groaned, collapsing to the floor.
I leaned over him, voice as cold as ice. “Asshole. Don’t ever show your face to me again.”
And with that, I turned on my heels and walked back into the banquet, the music still playing, laughter still echoing.
I slipped beside Rozen, who immediately noticed the fire in my eyes.
He smirked. “Handled it?”
I nodded, adjusting my dress. “Handled.”
He chuckled, wrapping an arm around my waist as if I hadn’t just assaulted a man backstage. “Good. Let’s make the rest of the night unforgettable.”
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