Chapter 3
Then stopped.
“Tessa is gone,” Callum said.
Rosalie’s eyes cooled.
“I don’t care.”
“I don’t care.”
The words were quiet.
Not cruel.
Not angry.
That was what made them hurt.
Callum had faced men who hated him. He had survived betrayals from people who wanted his empire. He understood rage. Rage was simple.
Indifference was different.
Indifference meant someone had finally stopped fighting for a place in your life.
“Tessa is gone,” he repeated.
Rosalie leaned against the doorframe.
“I heard.”
“She left Chicago.”
“Good for her.”
Callum studied her face.
Four months ago, that answer would have destroyed him.
Four months ago, he would have mistaken her lack of reaction for coldness.
Now he understood.
Rosalie was not trying to punish him.
She was protecting herself.
“I thought you would want to know.”
“I don’t.”
He nodded slowly.
“Because of what she did?”
Rosalie looked at him.
“No.”
The answer surprised him.
“Then why?”
“Because she was never the reason I left.”
The words stopped him.
For months, Callum had replayed the night she caught him with Tessa.
He had focused on the mistake.
The betrayal.
The humiliation.
The moment Rosalie stood in the doorway of their penthouse and looked at him like she no longer recognized him.
He had thought the problem was Tessa.
He had thought if Tessa disappeared, if the affair disappeared, if every reminder disappeared, then maybe everything could return.
But Rosalie had never left because another woman existed.
She left because Callum had made her feel like she did not.
“I chose you,” Rosalie said.
His throat tightened.
“I know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You know now.”
A silence settled between them.
“You chose me when I was useful.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
Callum opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because the worst part was that he could not immediately deny it.
Rosalie looked away.
“When we met, you needed someone who could sit across from your enemies and make them trust the man they feared.”
She smiled sadly.
“You needed someone who could remember birthdays, family connections, personal histories, small details nobody else cared about.”
“Rosalie—”
“You needed me.”
The word echoed.
Then she looked back at him.
“But you stopped choosing me.”
Callum felt every defense he had ever built disappear.
Because she was right.
He had loved her.
He still loved her.
But somewhere along the way, he had started believing love was permanent.