Flourish sat in her grand sitting room, her expression stern as she waited for Rose to arrive. The moment Rose stepped in, she felt the tension in the air. Flourish wasted no time and got straight to the point.
"Explain to me why you were in Julian's room last night." Her voice was cold, her piercing gaze locked onto Rose.
Rose felt a lump form in her throat. She knew there was no escaping this conversation. "I... it wasn't intentional, ma'am. I didn't mean to break any rules," she said, bowing her head slightly in respect.
"Did I not make myself clear that the third floor is forbidden to you?" Flourish's voice carried a sharp edge.
Rose nodded quickly. "Yes, ma'am. I understand. I apologize. It won't happen again."
Flourish let out a slow sigh, her anger simmering beneath the surface. "Your salary will be deducted, and your pay will be postponed. Let this be your final warning, Rose."
Rose swallowed her pride and accepted the punishment. "I understand," she said softly. For a moment, Flourish watched her with an unreadable expression. Perhaps there was a flicker of pity in her eyes, but she quickly dismissed it. The head maid had informed her about the blood-stained bedspread, which had only confirmed what had transpired between Rose and Julian. Flourish, despite her frustration, resolved to mend things in her own way.
Later that evening, Julian requested his meal to be served in his room. But he was specific:
"Let Rose bring it to me."
The maid relayed the message to Rose, who immediately refused. "I'm not going to him," she said firmly. "It's not part of my duties. I'm here to take care of Lady Vivienne, nothing more."
The maid tried again. "But it was his direct order."
"Then let him know that I'm declining his order," Rose said stubbornly.
Seeing that Rose wouldn't budge, the maid went ahead and served Julian herself. When Julian learned of Rose's refusal, his jaw clenched. Without a second thought, he set out to find her. He found her in the garden, buried in a book, as if completely unbothered.
"Why are you avoiding me?" he asked, standing over her.
Rose barely looked up. "I'm not avoiding you."
Julian scoffed. "Oh? Then why did you refuse to come when I sent for you?"
Rose sighed and finally lifted her gaze. "Because you asked me to come to your room," she said, emphasizing the last words. "Do you have any idea how that sounds?"
Realization dawned on Julian, and for the first time in a long while, he chuckled. "I see your point."
Still smirking, he pulled out an envelope and held it out to her. "Here. This is compensation for last night."
Rose blinked, then her face twisted in disgust. "Compensation?" She stood up abruptly, her hands clenched into fists. "I'm not a slut, Julian! I didn't do what I did because I wanted money. I pitied you. I gave myself to you because you needed help, not because I expected to be paid like some cheap whore!"
Julian's smirk faded as he realized his mistake. But before he could say anything, Rose turned on her heel and stormed off.
As she stepped back inside the mansion, Mr. Whitaker, the butler, approached her. "Madam has given you the week off to visit your family," he informed her with a polite nod.
Rose's anger momentarily faded, replaced by a rush of joy. "Really?" she asked, her voice lighter.
"Yes. You may pack your things and leave at your earliest convenience."
Without wasting another second, Rose hurried to her room to pack. She couldn't wait to get away from this place—at least for a little while.
Later that evening, Julian found Vivienne alone in the lounge.
"Where's Rose?" he asked casually.
Vivienne pouted. "She left. Mother gave her a week off."
Something in Julian's chest tightened at that. He was unsure why, but the news left him unsettled.
"I'm leaving early tomorrow," he informed his sister.
Vivienne's pout deepened. "Can't you stay a little longer? Spend time with me?" she pleaded.
Julian sighed. "Fine. What do you want to do?"
Vivienne brightened instantly. She began to talk nonstop about Rose—how wonderful she was, how kind, how intelligent, how effortlessly stylish. She went on about how Rose had good taste in fashion and always helped her pick out the best outfits. How she was patient, smart, and always knew exactly what to say.
Julian listened, and for some reason, the more he heard, the more he felt a strange warmth inside. He didn't know what it was yet, but one thing was clear:
Vivienne adored Rose.
And, for some reason, Julian found himself glad that his sister had someone like her to rely on.