Roseline had always believed control meant survival. That if she held the strings tightly enough—memories, marriages, money—nothing would slip through her fingers. Everything she had done, every line she had crossed, had been in service of that belief.
No. I can't lose it now.
She drew in a steadying breath and finally lifted her head to face Hugo.
"Yes," she said. "It's true. I asked Kathrine to run away."
Her tone was firm, rehearsed—but the slight tremor beneath it betrayed her. She hated that. Hated how exposed she suddenly felt.
Hugo stared at her as if she had struck him.
"Why?" he demanded. "Why would you do that?" His voice rose despite himself. "You knew how important that marriage was—for the family, for the company. For us. So why?"
Roseline flinched at the sharpness of his tone, her fingers twisting together in her lap. She had lived long enough beside Hugo to know this side of him—the man who loved fiercely, but whose anger, once ignited, was relentless.
