"Ah!!!"
Rosie was roughly thrown onto the bed. The mattress, along with her, bounced several times. Before she could react, a shadow loomed over her, and the girl's wrists were pinned above her head by the man's single hand.
She looked at the man in front of her in terror—Charles Anderson!
"You... your legs were supposed to be useless." The girl looked down at the man's strong legs keeping her restrained.
Wasn't he supposed to be paralyzed? How could he suddenly... suddenly stand up?
The man said nothing, staring at her with a grim look.
Her face turned pale, her body trembling, the black skirt barely covering her thighs.
"Has he touched you?" Charles's dark eyes flickered with restrained anger, pinching the girl's chin, his fingers brushing against her cherry lips.
Rosie struggled a few times. Guessing the reason for his anger, she couldn't help but let out a cold laugh, "Wasn't it you who told me to find another man?"
The man lowered his eyes, leaned in, and bit her lip: "Hiss~"
This was not a kiss, but a bite, as if he wanted to devour her whole.
He tightened his grip on the girl's soft waist, tearing off the hindering clothes, his eyes showing a mixture of fury and emotion.
Rosie broke free and shielded her chest with her hands, her eyes filled with fragmented light. She didn't even notice the slight tremble of her chin, fueled by extreme indignation: "Charles Anderson, I'm just a stand-in, so who are you putting on this act for!"
"Are you addicted to acting? It's a pity that Isabella Scott isn't here to see your great performance."
Charles felt his heart being squeezed, a suffocating pain: "Who told you that?"
Rosie chuckled softly, lowering her eyes to hide the tears brimming in them, feigning a cool demeanor: "I'm just a tool for you to provoke Isabella Scott, a pawn; Charles Anderson, how long do you think you can deceive me? You... why do you think you can summon me at will and dismiss me likewise!"
"It's not like that."
"I hate you."
Charles's body stiffened; he gritted his teeth, his chest heaving, never imagining that these four words could make a usually calm and restrained man lose control.
The girl felt a pain on her shoulder, and she clenched her mouth shut, resisting, not wanting to cry in front of him, not wanting to show weakness again.
The man's dark eyes contained the image of a tearful girl, blood staining his lips. He lowered his head to nuzzle her ear, interlocking their fingers, and whispered sinisterly, "You are not allowed to hate me."
Then, he sealed the girl's lips again, perfectly fitting, flawlessly aligned.
Rosie's pupils contracted suddenly; she hadn't expected that choosing another path after rebirth would lead her into another abyss.
----
Half a year ago, in the center hospital of Ael City.
Rosie had been brought to the hospital after attempting suicide by slashing her wrist.
The fine spring rain soaked the air, heavy clouds rolled in, blocking stars and the moon, the smell of disinfectant in the thin blankets and pillows suffocated and unsettled her.
When Rosie woke up in the hospital bed, her mind was in a fog; sweat-matted hair stuck to her face and neck. Her unfocused eyes stared at the ceiling, her pale face devoid of color, and the girl was too weak to muster any strength. Sweat soaked her back and seeped into the sheets.
She was still in shock from the car accident in her past life: the brakes failed, the car skidded off the guardrail, spinning in the air endlessly, tumbling down the mountainside, her life burning out in prolonged cries for help.
Rosie's numb brain couldn't command her limbs, but after taking a few deep breaths, she felt no pain from internal injuries, only a slight sting in her wrists, her body otherwise intact.
Outside the door, she heard her father, Mr. Scott, and her uncle talking.
"Offending the Anderson Family means we'll have no more room in Ael City; maybe we should sell the company, and then I'll take Rosie abroad."
"But the Anderson Clan is so powerful, where could you escape to?"
"What else can we do? Letting Rosie marry that paralyzed cripple is just sentencing her to a lifetime of living widowhood!"
The girl was stunned, the familiar scene overlapping with her memory. She had... been reborn!!!
Rosie felt the vibrant beating of her heart. She had returned to the eve of her marriage to Charles Anderson.
She and her father had not escaped abroad.
The money from selling the company hadn't been taken by her uncle, the family hadn't gone bankrupt, her father hadn't gone missing, and Rosie hadn't died in a brake-failure crash while on the run.
Everything could still be salvaged.
Heavy spring rain beat against the glass, a clap of thunder split the clouds, drawing the girl out of her heavy thoughts.
The glaring white lights of the hospital corridor felt piercing, and Mr. Scott's hair had turned much whiter overnight, with deeper wrinkles on his forehead. He had spent a night thinking, unable to bring himself to ruin his daughter's future.
After a long hesitation, Mr. Scott took out his phone, planning to sell the company and then take the family abroad with the money. Suddenly, a slender figure appeared beside him, her bandaged wrist extending over the screen. The girl's voice was weak, her eyes brimming with tears, "Dad, I'm willing to marry."
Her father was stunned for a long moment, eyes flooding with tears, opening his mouth to speak but stopping. He only had this one daughter; last year, she lost her mother, and now, she must marry a paralyzed cripple.
The thought filled him with guilt.
From childhood, Mr. Scott had never forced his daughter to do anything; this was the first time.
Mr. Scott was speechless, opting to tightly embrace Rosie and heavily saying, "It's my fault, I'm sorry."
The girl felt a pang of bitterness. In truth, this wasn't his fault.
Furthermore, she didn't blame him. Rosie was grateful to have such a father. In their past life, his impulsiveness caused them five years of exhausting escape, resulting in a tragic end.
Having another chance, Rosie didn't want her father, who should have been enjoying his life, to have to labor and toil.
Wasn't marrying a paralyzed man better than losing her life?
Rosie carried the memories of two lifetimes, foreseeing the events of the next five years. While not entirely, it was enough to firm her resolve to marry Charles Anderson.
She clearly remembered that Charles was not as weak as he appeared.
In less than five years, he not only managed to send his elder brother, Adam Anderson, to prison, forcing Mr. Anderson to relinquish power graciously, excluding rivals, securing his position as the CEO of the Anderson Clan, but also brought the Anderson Clan into the global top 500 companies.
Why choose a life of running when such a promising opportunity was right there?
She stood by the window all night, watching the rain cease, the moon set, and the sun rise. Morning light pierced thin clouds, glinting gold on the leaves and casting a warm glow on the girl's face.
The girl's beauty was endearing, with large fox-like eyes softening her youthful charm; Rosie Scott wore a pale yellow long dress and a thin knit cardigan, with a hibiscus face and willow demeanor; she stood there with stunning beauty.
She thought marrying Charles Anderson might be rushed, but she hadn't anticipated it would be so hurried.
The next day, as daylight broke, Rosie, carrying a moderately sized bag, had just been discharged from the hospital when she saw a black Lincoln parked at the entrance. Beside it stood a young man with a smiling face and neat side-parted hair, dressed in an ink-colored suit and silver-framed glasses. His voice flowed softly like water:
"Hello, I am Jack Hugh, personal assistant to Mr. Anderson. I'm here today specifically to take Miss Scott to Anderson Castle."
Even without makeup, the girl exuded an aura of cool, tender charm. Her eyes, like autumn waters, tilted slightly at the corners with a hint of southern girl's charm, as Rosie Scott let out a cold laugh: "Is Charles Anderson dying, in such a hurry to marry me for good luck?"
Jack's smile cracked like ice, never expecting this seemingly delicate girl to speak so sharply. The man adjusted his glasses on his nose: "Uh... Our Second Young Master longs for you day and night, thinking of wholeheartedly bringing you home soon."
Pure nonsense.
Rosie took a graceful step toward him, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She slapped her bag into Jack's arms: "Then trouble you to carry my bag."
Jack rubbed his stomach, exhaling an annoyed breath. This... this girl was not here with good intentions.
The girl got into the car directly; she also wanted to see if this Charles Anderson, who clung to her like a vicious dog for five years in her past life, was truly a devoted lover or feigning deep affection?