THIRD PERSON POV
Rosie's hands are stained with Beatrice's blood. Her heels click sharply against the marble floor of the Laurent mansion in the Upper East Side—a massive seven-bedroom estate where all the children of Ludwig and Jennifer stay when in New York.
Black walls, dim lights glowing in corners, and a grand spiral staircase on the east side. Currently, aside from Adrien and Rosie, no one else is in the house.
A housekeeper bows to her, then pales. "Young Miss… your hand."
Rosie clenches her jaw. "Nothing."
The main door opens slowly, and a drunk, disheveled Adrien walks in. He reeks of whiskey, his hair ruffled as if fingers had run through it—though it was his own doing. His eyes are hazy when they land on Rosie.
"Oh… you're home. Angel said you stopped by the company," he mumbles.
Rosie's eyes widen. She quickly hides her hands behind her back, but it doesn't escape Adrien's drunken gaze.
He frowns. "What are you hiding?"
Rosie shakes her head. "Nothing, brother—"
The housekeeper glances nervously between them as Adrien approaches. Somehow, the alcohol hasn't dulled his instincts. He grabs Rosie's arm and pulls her hand into view. His eyes widen at the dried blood.
"How did you get blood on your hand?"
Rosie starts trembling under his sharp gaze.
His phone rings. A call from Angel. Adrien releases her hand and answers with a huff. "What?"
Angel's voice trembles on the other end. "Boss… Ms. Rosie went to meet Beatrice and…"
Adrien's expression shifts as Angel explains everything—how Rosie hurt Beatrice badly enough to make her bleed, and how Lucian stepped in to stop it.
With a sharp motion, Adrien throws his phone across the floor. His face turns red with rage.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO BEATRICE?"
His voice echoes through the mansion. The housekeeper gasps. Rosie's tears spill as she shouts back,
"SHE WAS WEARING SCHWEITZER'S HEIRLOOM—THE EMERALD EARRINGS! I just… just pulled it slightly!"
Adrien's anger explodes. "Slightly? She was fucking bleeding because of you, Rosie!"
His voice drops into a dangerous growl, making her cry harder.
Adrien has always been the brother who supports his siblings—right or wrong. Never shouting. Never losing control over something like this.
But this is different.
He clenches his jaw. "I'll deal with you later. You're not going anywhere near Beatrice ever again."
Rosie sobs. "Are you shouting at me because of some girl who might be involved with Theodore?"
Adrien steps closer, towering over her. His voice is quiet—but threatening.
"That's up to me. And Rosie… be grateful you're my sister and a woman. Otherwise…"
He doesn't finish. He doesn't need to.
Rosie understands.
Adrien grabs his car keys and storms out, heading straight to the driveway.
His chest feels tight. Panic settles deep in his bones as he drives recklessly through the streets of Manhattan.
His car screeches to a stop outside Beatrice's apartment. He jumps out and runs upstairs without thinking.
His heartbeat pounds violently. Every trace of alcohol has vanished.
Only one thought remains—
He needs to see Beatrice.
He bangs on her door again and again, desperation raw and uncontrollable.
The door finally opens.
Beatrice stands there—pale, eyes hollow, her right ear bandaged. She's dressed in cotton pajamas.
"What are you doing here?"
Her cold voice nearly brings him to his knees.
His trembling hand reaches toward her bandaged ear.
Beatrice steps back immediately, drawing a clear line. Her expression hardens.
Something inside Adrien feels like it shatters.
"I… I heard what happened," his voice trembles with something unfamiliar—pain.
Beatrice's face remains unwelcoming. "Yeah. Your sister tried to rip off my earlobe."
He blinks, guilt etched across his face. His green-blue eyes—usually arrogant, detached—are now filled with shame, regret, and something painfully soft.
Beatrice clenches her fists. "Why are you here, Adrien?"
"I came for you."
"I don't need you. Go away."
She tries to close the door, but Adrien blocks it.
Her eyes widen. His gaze is intense—desperate in a way she has never seen before.
She smells the whiskey. Panic creeps in. "You're drunk. Go home."
"No."
"Adrien—"
Before she can finish, he steps inside, pushing her against the door and kissing her roughly.
Beatrice immediately struggles, pushing against him, but he pins her hands above her head. His kiss is forceful, invasive.
Tears stream down her face as helplessness sets in.
She tries to fight him off, but his size makes it impossible.
He pulls back slightly. "Kiss me back."
"No. You're forcing yourself on me," her voice cracks with fear.
Adrien freezes at her words. His eyes flicker toward her tear-streaked face.
"Why? Why won't you kiss me back?" he asks desperately. "I thought you liked me."
"I never said I like you."
Her anger cuts through her fear.
He shakes his head. "No… you didn't. But your eyes… they said everything."
His hand reaches for her cheek—gentle this time. Vulnerable.
She jerks her face away. "Don't touch me."
"I can't stop myself. I need you."
Her eyes shut tightly.
Memories of Theodore flood her mind—how he pulled away, how he gave her space, how he never crossed a line.
"Little terrorist… I'm sorry for what my sister did. It won't happen again," Adrien whispers, touching her bandage.
But even his gentleness makes her skin crawl.
"Sorry?" she laughs bitterly. "How many things are you sorry for? You just forced yourself on me!"
Adrien's face twists with frustration and guilt. "Why are you rejecting me? Is it because of that bastard Schweitzer? DO YOU THINK HE LOVES YOU?"
His shout makes her flinch. Regret flashes across his face instantly.
And then—
The door opens.
Lia stands there, holding a bag of Beatrice's favorite food, her hair in a messy bun, a cigarette between her lips.
"Lia…" Beatrice's voice trembles.
Adrien turns—
And instantly drops to his knees as Lia kicks him hard with her heels. His grip on Beatrice loosens.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, ADRIEN AURÉLIEN LAURENT?"
Lia pulls Beatrice behind her, fury blazing.
Adrien glares. "Who the fuck are you?"
Lia scoffs and stomps on his foot, making him wince. She grabs his hair and slams his head against the wall.
"You bastard tried to force yourself on my best friend, and now you're talking?"
"Shut up," he snaps.
And then—
Beatrice slaps him.
Hard.
Adrien freezes. Completely sober.
Beatrice is crying.
Reality crashes down on him.
"I… I didn't mean to…"
"Leave."
Adrien shakes his head. Lia stares at him in disbelief.
His phone rings. He ignores it. It rings again.
He answers. "Hello."
A panicked voice shouts from the other end:
"YOUNG MASTER—SOMEONE BROKE INTO THE MANSION AND STABBED MS. ROSIE!"
Adrien's eyes widen.
Without another word, he runs.
Fear takes over.
Nothing has ever challenged Adrien more than his current situation.