Chapter 6
Rosanna blinked away the tears, her voice barely steady. "How did you end up at the cafe just now?"
Christopher avoided sharing his doubts, instead offering a simple answer. "I was heading to a meeting. It was pure luck I was there in time to help you. But tell me—who was that man? Why was he after you?"
She hesitated, knowing she couldn't betray Yolanda's secret. "I don't know him. He seemed to be drunk. He just came out of nowhere and grabbed me—I was scared out of my mind..."
Her whole body shivered, making the lie seem heartbreakingly real.
Christopher watched her closely. The fear in her eyes softened him, and he decided not to press the issue. He went back to gently tend to her wounded wrist in silence.
She tried to sound composed. "You shouldn't let me keep you from work. If there's something important, go take care of it. I'm really alright now."
Christopher was still reluctant, worry written all over his face. Just as he started to speak, his phone buzzed insistently.
It was urgent business, and he had no choice but to set his concerns aside, especially since Fred was already digging into Samuel's background.
Before leaving, he pulled the blanket over her shoulders. "Rest for now. I'll be back as soon as I can."
He hurried out, his expression grim, leaving Fred on edge and guessing at his mood.
"Is there something you need, sir?" Fred asked, trying to read his mind.
Christopher said nothing, lost in thought.
He kept circling back to the strange feeling that today's "Yolanda" wasn't the same as yesterday's. The woman upstairs was soft-spoken, gentle—a world apart from the sharpness he'd seen last night. Even if her face never changed, everything else about her seemed completely different. And somehow, this gentleness was the only thing that felt right to him.
An absurd notion flitted through his mind—had Yolanda been possessed last night? The thought was ridiculous, but nothing else seemed to fit.
He realized he still hadn't gotten any real answers about why she'd suddenly shown up at the cafe.
The timing was too strange. For her to leave her father's and wind up at Pinecrest Tower just as he was passing by could hardly be possible. Unless there was someone else in the city who looked exactly like her.
Christopher's face hardened with resolve. He turned to Fred. "I want someone keeping an eye on my wife at all times. Dig into her family's background—especially everything before they rose to prominence."
Fred's eyebrows shot up. "You want us to look into your wife?"
Christopher simply cast him a cold, unwavering stare.
Without another word, Fred nodded, understanding that no explanation was needed.
After Christopher left, Rosanna could no longer hold back her emotions. Tears streamed down her face. Deep down, she knew she and Christopher would never have a future. Their fragile connection was always at the mercy of secrets and lies—never meant to last.
A burst of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway, followed by the door flying open.
"Rosanna, you scheming bitch!" Yolanda's furious voice rang out, and in the next instant her face appeared, eyes blazing.
Rosanna's heart jumped at the sight.
Yolanda stormed into the room, her anger barely contained. "How dare you lie on the bed I share with Christopher? Are you trying to make me sick?"
"I ran into Samuel." Rosanna ignored her insults, keeping her voice level. "He thought I was you and demanded fifty million. He threatened to kill me if I didn't pay. Christopher arrived in time and pulled me out of it."
Yolanda's glare wavered for a split second, then something calculating flickered in her eyes. If Samuel believed Rosanna was her, perhaps she could use that to be rid of him finally. Still, she masked her thoughts behind a cold front. "I'll deal with him. But since we've switched places again, you're not to go anywhere near Christopher. We had an agreement."
A line of worry creased Rosanna's brow. "That won't work forever. Christopher's not an idiot. He'll notice how different we are. It's just a matter of time before he uncovers everything. If that happens, it'll blow up in our faces."
Yolanda's tone turned icy. "If you breathe a word of this, your mother won't get that surgery. I swear it."
Stunned, Rosanna stared at her, unable to speak for a moment. "She's your mother, too. How can you be so cold?"
Yolanda's voice was ice cold. "You call her my mother? The only thing she ever gave me was life. Everything else—money, comfort, any chance at happiness—came from my dad and stepmother. I've already done my part by covering the medical bills. Don't try to guilt me into doing more. And don't even dream of Christopher. He's never cared for you—his heart belongs to me, always has. That marriage was nothing but a merger between two powerful families. Only someone with my background belongs by his side. You're just an extra in all of this."
Rosanna tried to protest, but the words caught in her throat. Every accusation landed heavy. What did she have to offer? She was drowning in debt, scrambling just to keep her mother alive. Dreaming of a life with Christopher felt foolish—she'd just end up holding him back.
That realization hollowed her out. Grief flickered in her eyes, but she refused to let Yolanda see her cry.
Yolanda's attention flicked to the fresh bandage on Rosanna's wrist, and she huffed in annoyance. "Can't you take care of yourself? Now I'll have to pretend to be injured too. You really make everything harder for me. Just get out. Don't hang around and make things worse."
Before Rosanna could respond, a familiar voice rang out from the hallway—Christopher was back.
In an instant, panic swept over Rosanna and Yolanda's faces.
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