"My boss wants to see you," a man with a ski mask said as he stepped out of the car, his voice icy, his eyes emitting a cold gleam. "Before you get in, hand over your phone."
Rosemary fished out her cell and tossed it to him. Once he pocketed the device, he gestured for her to get into the car.
Inside, Rosemary sat in the back with imposing poise, as though she owned the vehicle.
A smirk played at the corners of her mouth. She was curious to see who was behind this and what kind of game they were playing.
"She’s in," said the guy riding shotgun, reporting back to his boss on the other end of the phone. "Yes, got it, I’m on it."
Forty minutes later.
The car pulled up to the outskirts of a neighboring town, halting at a derelict structure that looked like a half-finished villa, a skeleton of rebar and concrete, rising three and a half stories into the sky.
A fleet of cars was parked outside, and a small army brandishing various weapons trained their sights on Rosemary as she stepped out, wary of any tricks she might pull.
Rosemary walked in, the door shutting firmly behind her.
Joyce and Mya were tied up with ropes, huddled on the floor, while the instigator, Yolanda, couldn’t hide her smug grin seeing Rosemary arrive.
"Surprised it’s me?" Yolanda taunted, her hand wielding a switchblade that she ruthlessly dragged across Joyce’s arm.
Joyce clenched her teeth, refusing to let out even the slightest whimper.
She didn’t want Rosemary to come for her; Yolanda had lost her mind. She was afraid Rosemary would suffer seeing her in this state, might even get hurt trying to save them.
"Mmmph, mmmph." Mya’s cries were muffled by the gag in her mouth, but it was clear she was begging Rosemary to leave.
"Shut up!" Yolanda slapped Mya hard across the face.
With twenty to thirty henchmen around them, Rosemary knew she could take them down, but it would take time—time enough for them to plunge their blades into her friends.
So, Rosemary didn’t make a move.
Her composure was unfazed, her clear eyes betraying no emotion.
"Now that I’m here, we can talk," she said.
Her laugh was twisted with malice as she glanced upwards.
"What do you want?" Rosemary asked calmly, her voice steady despite the chaotic scene.
"What do I want?" Yolanda cackled wildly, her voice thick with malice. "You’ve ruined my life, destroyed my family. What do you think I want to do?"
Tears streamed down Joyce and Mya’s faces as they shook their heads, their muffled cries a testament to their unwillingness to see Rosemary suffer.
I’ve lost the family that loved me, yet you still have relatives who dote on you. I no longer have Zachary,but you have Romeo! Why? Why do you get to live better than me? Why do you get to trample over
us? If we hadn’t taken you in, you’d be dead!"
Rosemary remained silent, letting Yolanda vent her fury.
"You’re a traitor, ungrateful, with the heart of a beast! You have no idea how much it hurt to hold my parents’ ashes, how broken I felt."
"You’re wrong," Rosemary interjected quietly. "Seeing Grannie Grace breathe her last before my eyes hurt me more than you can imagine. My pain comes from the loss of family, yours from losing the
privileged life of a Harris. We grieve differently. If we must compare, your grief is no greater than mine."
"Nonsense," Yolanda spat out, enraged by Rosemary’s words. "Do you think I didn’t love my parents? That I saw them as nothing but a money tree?"
"The affection was partly because they provided a life of luxury, a world you dreamed of but never knew. If we talk about pure feeling, your foster mother Yvonne’s love was no less than theirs, yet I don’t see you share the same depth of feeling with her."
Rosemary’s words struck Yolanda like a thunderbolt.
No, it must be Rosemary’s deceit!
"How can my foster mother compare to my own parents? She’s just a stranger with no blood ties! She was childless, and I graced her with eighteen years of calling her ’Mom’. She should be grateful!"

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