"Her train arrives tomorrow at three. Make sure you're there to pick her up."
Rosamond laughed to herself. A bitter, silent laugh.
Funny how she'd never noticed what a devoted son Bryce was.
He opened his mouth to say more, but his phone rang. His assistant's number.
She couldn't make out the other end of the conversation, only catching fragments: "pulling out"... "leaving the country."
Bryce barked a few quick instructions to Olympia and rushed out of the hospital.
The second he was gone, Olympia dropped the act.
She swept a triumphant look over Rosamond, her voice dripping with contempt.
"Rosamond, oh Rosamond. A wife reduced to this. How do you even show your face?"
"If I were you, I'd have had the sense to leave a long time ago."
Rosamond glanced at her, her tone flat and unbothered.
"And I never imagined a mistress could be this shameless about it."
Olympia's face twisted with rage. She fixed Rosamond with a vicious glare.
"Don't get cocky. Mrs. Delgado arrives tomorrow, and she happens to adore me. Once she's here, your life will be a hundred times worse than it is now."
"Look forward to it."
With that parting shot, Olympia swayed out of the room on her heels.
Rosamond watched her go and let out a quiet, scornful breath. Layla Delgado was a force of nature. Olympia, did you really think you'd fare any better under that woman's roof?
But none of that was Rosamond's problem anymore. She looked away, picked up her phone, and called her mother, asking her to send someone to the hospital.
She didn't dare tell her parents about the night before. She said only that she'd fainted from a fever.
Noel and Martha were skeptical, but Rosamond held firm, and in the end they didn't press further.
Early the next morning, Rosamond sent everything she'd prepared to her lawyer, blocked Bryce's number, and boarded a plane without looking back.
