Curse of Rose de Winter

Chapter 20

I told Dylan everything. He listened without interruption as I spilled everything.

"I came here with no money. That's why I'm envious of you, and even Calvin, Scarlett, and Austen and his family. You were all born into money with the de Winter name. You could get any job with simply a word, not that you need to work.

"Finding work was hard, working itself was hard, buying dresses and looking even decent was hard. So it was a dream when a couple approached me. They said they had lost their daughter, Rose—Rosemarie, and I looked just like her. It bothered me at first but I decided to console them by occasionally drinking tea with them. But in their eyes, I saw something that scared me.

"Whenever I talked about my life, my work recently, anything, they would smile and get me a dress.

"'It'll fit you', 'It'll look nice on you', 'It will make us happier, to see you in our daughter's clothes'. It all started like that, wearing her frilly dresses. I was slowly going over for more than tea, breakfast, lunch, and even dinner. They offered me a free place to stay and I tried to resist, but money was tight, and I was foolish."

Dylan was strangely quiet, and his eyes looked past me, into my soul. I hoped he would understand.

"And they had a daughter, Rosalind. They called the two Rose and Rosa. So silly, really. But Rosalind was kind, kinder than my own sister. She loved my face and hair but not because I looked like her sister. She enjoyed talking about my life outside, my past, and she urged me to stay—or else she'd be the only one imprisoned. The Blackwoods didn't let Rosalind go out anymore. We played games inside the house, chess, checkers, sometimes we tried to spell the most words out of wooden blocks. Sometimes we played bridge and sometimes we just read. But that rainy day we met I never wanted to lie and become Rosemarie Blackwood—I was too used to it. These four, no, three years."

Dylan nodded slowly.

"Do you have any questions for me?" I ended my monologue.

He leaned back in the chair he was sitting in and sighed.

"Sixteen. I never thought of the privileges I had, the hardships others went through. I really am a spoiled brat, huh?"

I didn't reply.

He pulled himself up again from behind the seat and stared at me, a small frown appearing.

"So what is your name?"

"Maybe—maybe I'll tell you another day," I said. "It's not Blanche, I promise. Nor Rose."

"Which one would you like to go by from now on?"

"Rose," I whispered. The name of your First Love.

"Should I notify your family?" he asked, but I knew it wasn't of concern.

"No, please. I—I actually ran away."

"What?" his voice grew. "So we are sheltering a refuge and making you play the part of an heiress?"

"Dylan, Dylan." I raised a hand to stop him. "I have no family, no one who cares for me. My fake parents see me as a doll. My real sister is married, no, she's a widow now, and my fake sister Rosalind is still in the Blackwood mansion. I was the best person to play this role, don't you see?"

"Of course, you want to get married soon, don't you? With this status," he scoffed.

It hurt.

It hurt so much.

"You can me a gold-digger, you're not wrong. I've done cruel things to get money, but it was only so I could live. Isn't that why you wanted that man's money?" I smiled. I couldn't help but say it. "Even though you hate him, you don't hate his fortune."