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Novellair-The Reading Room

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PERSON_PROFILE

The sharp, shrill wail of an ambulance siren cut through the chaos of the bustling city streets like a blade through fabric. Its mournful cry echoed off the towering buildings, reverberating through the air with a sense of urgency that could not be ignored.

Inside the ambulance, Rosalie Talley lay on the stretcher, her consciousness gradually slipping away. The distant, muffled voices of the paramedics reached her ears, their conversation blending into the chaotic hum surrounding her.

One of the paramedics took her phone. A moment later, Rosalie heard the sound of a call being made.

"Hello, is this Rosalie Talley's husband?" The paramedic's voice was calm but urgent. "Your wife was in a car accident. We're on the way to the hospital right now. Please—"

"Is she dead?" A cold, emotionless male voice cut her off mid-sentence.

The paramedic was momentarily stunned, instinctively answering, "No."

"I'm busy. Call me when she is."

"Wait—"

Before the paramedic could finish speaking, the line went dead. The monotonous beeping of the disconnected call echoed in the cramped ambulance, each tone dripping with cruel indifference—mocking, ridiculing, as if laughing at Rosalie's foolish devotion.

Even as her consciousness faded, Julian Galloway's words somehow stabbed into her mind with painful clarity, each syllable carved deep into her soul.

A bitter smile curved her lips. She let her eyes drift shut as a thought surfaced in her hazy mind. She pondered, 'That's enough. Some people are just born cold-hearted, aren't they? How could I have been so naive to think I could ever change him?'

Her fingers twitched slightly before her arm went limp, slipping lifelessly to her side.

The last thing she heard was the paramedic's voice, urgent yet distant. "The patient's heart has stopped..."

*****

Rosalie sat up abruptly in bed, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

Dazed, she stared at her hands—soft, smooth, and completely unscathed. Her flawless skin bore no trace of injury, not even the faintest scratch.

She wondered, her heart pounding against her ribs, 'What is going on? Wasn't I in a car accident? Wasn't I supposed to be in the ambulance, being rushed to the hospital? Then why am I back in my bedroom, without a single wound on my body?'

A sudden, unbelievable thought crashed into her mind.

Rosalie's breath caught as she snapped her gaze to the clock on the wall. The glowing numbers read January 1, 2020.

She thought, a shiver running down her spine, 'Have I traveled back in time?'

It sounded absurd—something that only happened in movies or novels. But there was no other explanation for why she was lying in her bedroom, completely unharmed, while the clock displayed a date from one year ago.

She wondered, 'Is the universe giving me a second chance? A chance to make a different choice?'

The memory of Julian's cruel words before her death in her past life flashed through her mind, making her lips curl into a bitter, self-mocking smile.

Then, as if struck by a sudden realization, she turned sharply, yanking open the drawer of her bedside table.

"Of course." Rosalie let out a cold laugh, her eyes landing on the divorce agreement, the bold letters standing out unmistakably.

Julian had sent it over through his lawyer just yesterday. Even when it came to ending their marriage, he couldn't be bothered to meet her in person.

In her past life, she had stubbornly refused to sign it, clinging to a marriage that had long since withered into nothing but a legal bond on paper.

Their relationship had only grown more strained—Julian had barely come home for a year, and even when he did, he'd never spared her more than a few indifferent glances, let alone talking to her.

She still didn't know what exactly she had been holding onto or why she had been so desperate to keep a dead marriage intact.

She had thought that as long as she stayed by Julian's side—as long as she remained his wife—one day, she would finally reach his heart.

But reality had been cruel.

Even when she lay on the brink of death after a severe car accident, he hadn't shown the slightest concern. He hadn't even cared enough to ask if she would survive.

Instead, he had been waiting for her to die.

At that thought, a familiar dull ache throbbed in Rosalie's chest.

Julian was like an executioner wielding a blade, mercilessly skilled at slicing her heart apart piece by piece.

No matter how much it hurt—no matter how many times he had torn her apart—she had still refused to let go.

But now, as she dwelled on it, the whole thing felt utterly laughable. Reaching into the drawer, she pulled out the divorce agreement. Her gaze swept over the pages, taking in every word, every clause.

Julian might not have had an ounce of affection for her, but when it came to money, he was undeniably generous. The assets he had allocated to her in the divorce settlement were more than enough to ensure she could live in luxury for several lifetimes without lifting a finger.

Once she finished reading through the document, she headed to the study.

When she emerged a while later, a folder was clutched in her hands. Without hesitation, she dialed Julian's lawyer.

"Mr. Carson," she said coolly, "I've signed the divorce agreement. I made a few modifications. Please pass it along to Julian. If he has no objections, he can go ahead and sign it."

Inside the grand headquarters of Galloway Group, a sharp knock echoed against the heavy doors of the CEO's office.

"Come in." Julian's voice was cool, detached.

Martin Carson, the company's chief legal advisor, stepped inside, carrying a folder in his hands. His usually composed expression held a trace of something unreadable as he walked up to Julian.

Julian barely glanced up from the documents on his desk. Seeing it was Martin, he casually asked, "She still refuses to sign?"

His tone was crisp, indifferent, as if the entire matter was nothing more than a trivial business deal rather than the dissolution of a marriage. Not a single flicker of emotion crossed his face.

"No," Martin said after a brief pause. "Mrs. Galloway has already signed. But..."

Julian arched a brow. "But what?"

Martin hesitated for half a second before handing over the folder. "She made some changes to the financial terms."

Julian let out a cold laugh, the corner of his lips curling with derision. "What, she thinks I didn't give her enough?"

He thought, 'So in the end, she's just like the rest—insatiable. No matter how much she pretended to love me, it was never stronger than her greed for money.'

Martin pressed his lips together but said nothing.

Julian didn't wait for a response. He pulled out the signed divorce agreement with Rosalie's signature on it, fully expecting to see pages upon pages of financial demands. But the moment his eyes landed on the document, his hand stiffened.

Unlike the thick stack of papers detailing the generous financial settlement he had originally offered, this version consisted of a single page.

Rosalie had signed away everything. The document explicitly stated that she was leaving with nothing—no property, no assets.

On top of that, there was a separate share transfer agreement in which she relinquished her 5% stake in Galloway Group to Julian—completely free of charge. A notarized certification from a legal office was even attached to ensure its validity.

Shocked, Julian stared at the papers, an unfamiliar sensation creeping into his chest.

Yesterday, she had been adamant about not divorcing him. Today, she had not only signed without hesitation but had also walked away without taking a single cent—and even given up what rightfully belonged to her.

For a fleeting moment, his expression faltered. He couldn't quite place what he was feeling, but one thought surfaced in his mind. 'What the hell is Rosalie playing at this time?' he wondered.

His fingers tightened around the papers. "Did she say anything?"

Julian refused to believe that Rosalie had agreed to the divorce so easily. In his mind, she had schemed her way into the Galloway family by winning over his grandfather, Issac Galloway, manipulating the old man into forcing him into marriage. That was what he had always thought.

He thought, his frown deepening, 'She fought so hard to be my wife, and now she's just giving it all up?'

His grip on the divorce papers tightened unconsciously, leaving sharp creases on the once-pristine document.

Nearby, his assistant, Alan Barker, noticed Julian's grim expression and assumed the worst—that Rosalie's revised agreement must have been filled with outrageous demands, an attempt to push her luck even further. Disdain flickered across Alan's mind.

He had been present when Julian instructed Martin to draft the original divorce settlement. He knew exactly how generous Julian had been—far beyond what was necessary.

If Rosalie still wasn't satisfied with that, then Alan seriously had to wonder whether she had ever truly loved Julian at all—or if it was simply the staggering wealth and power that came with his name that had drawn her in.

Curiosity gnawed at him. His gaze drifted toward the revised agreement, scanning the contents discreetly. And just like Julian, he was stunned.

She hadn't asked for a single thing. Not only had she walked away with nothing, but she had even given back the shares Issac had gifted her—completely free of charge.

Alan's mind reeled. No matter how he tried to wrap his head around it, he simply couldn't believe that she was leaving empty-handed and even handing Julian a parting gift.

That 5% stake in Galloway Group might not have been a controlling share, but it was still an asset that could generate enough annual dividends to support her for a lifetime. And yet, she had given it up without hesitation.

Martin finally spoke, "That's all. Mrs. Galloway—no, Ms. Talley—asked that you find time to finalize the divorce paperwork as soon as possible."

His words should have brought Julian relief. After all, that was what he had wanted. But instead of the satisfaction of breaking free from Rosalie, a strange, unshakable irritation settled in Julian's chest.

"Leave," Julian ordered, his voice clipped and emotionless.

Martin and Alan exchanged a glance before silently exiting the room. Once the door shut behind them, Julian's expression darkened even further.

As he leaned back against the leather chair, his gaze grew colder, layer by layer, like ice forming over a frozen lake. He didn't believe Rosalie had truly agreed to the divorce.

Just yesterday, she had been adamant—unwilling to let go no matter what. He thought there was no way she could have had a sudden change of heart overnight.

A sharp, mocking chuckle escaped his lips as he ignored the divorce agreement Martin had delivered.

Pressing his fingers against his temple, he tried to push down the inexplicable irritation rising in his chest. He grabbed the nearest document, attempting to refocus.

But for some reason, the usually sharp and efficient man found himself unable to absorb a single word. His mind, which usually moved like clockwork, was now a jumble of thoughts he couldn't untangle.

*****

"Mrs. Galloway, are you heading out?" Clara Berry, one of the housemaids, paused at the sight of Rosalie descending the grand staircase, a suitcase in hand.

Everyone in the Galloway household—and even Julian's extended family—knew that his marriage to Rosalie had never been built on love. It was an arrangement forced by Issac Galloway, and Julian had never let her forget that.

Now that Issac had passed, Julian had wasted no time in filing for divorce. No one could have been happy about it, least of all Rosalie—because everyone knew she was irrevocably in love with him.

Clara still remembered how the lawyer had shown up yesterday, delivering the divorce papers right in front of the staff, as if Rosalie's feelings didn't matter at all. She couldn't help but glance at Rosalie with a tinge of sympathy.

Rumors had long whispered that Rosalie was nothing more than a substitute for the woman Julian truly loved. And now Clara felt like those whispers had been true all along.

"No, I'm moving out." Rosalie offered Clara a small smile. "Clara, thank you for taking care of me this past year."

She wasn't a demanding mistress, never one to throw tantrums or make life difficult for the staff. The only thing she had ever been particular about was Julian.

Clara hesitated before asking, "You're really leaving Mr. Galloway?"

Rosalie smiled again and nodded, though for the briefest moment, an ache flickered in her chest. She ignored it and stepped forward, heading for the door.

But after taking a few steps, she suddenly stopped. Turning back to Clara, she said, "Oh, and one more thing. Get someone to get rid of the lilies in the garden."

"What?" Clara furrowed her brows. "But Mrs. Galloway, you planted those yourself."

Rosalie's smile didn't waver. "Tear them out. Julian doesn't like them."

She thought, pressing down the slight sting in her chest, 'Since we're getting divorced, I should make a clean break. Why leave anything behind to remind him—or to irritate him?'

With that, she turned and walked away without a single glance back, her steps steady, her heart resolved.

*****

When Julian returned home, the first thing he saw was a small excavator in the garden, ripping out the lilies by their roots. His expression instantly dropped to subzero. "What the hell is going on?" His voice was dangerously low.

"Mr. Galloway, you're back." Clara hurried over, sensing the storm brewing in his gaze. "Mrs. Galloway ordered it. She said—"

"She said what?"

"Mrs. Galloway said you don't like them."

She spoke carefully, choosing her words with caution as she stole a careful glance at him.

Julian's face remained impassive, but Clara noticed the rigid set of his jaw, the brief flicker in his gaze. Then she hesitated before adding, "Mrs. Galloway has already left."

'Left?' Julian thought, startled.

The word hit him harder than he expected, stirring up that same restless, inexplicable unease that had plagued him all day at the office.

But outwardly, he betrayed nothing. His expression remained unreadable as he let out a quiet, indifferent hum and strode into the house. "Fine."

Just as he reached the doorway, he gave a final command without looking back. "Tell them to stop. Restore everything to the way it was."

"Yes, sir." Clara didn't understand what Julian was thinking. It was clear to anyone that he didn't like Rosalie. She couldn't understand why, now that they were getting a divorce, Julian still wanted to keep the flowers she had planted.

Since the day they got married, Julian had rarely spent time at home. He would either disappear for weeks or return in the dead of night. But today—arriving this early—was a first.

Clara cast a quick glance at him, her thoughts swirling. 'Do all powerful people have such unpredictable moods?' she wondered.

Despite her curiosity, she held her tongue and promptly instructed the workers to stop what they were doing.

Julian's face remained unreadable as he climbed the stairs. He pushed open the master bedroom door—only to be met with silence. The room was hollow, stripped of its usual warmth.

He rarely came home at this hour. No matter how late he returned, Rosalie would always be sitting there, waiting for him.

Even if she had dozed off, the sound of his arrival would rouse her, and she'd greet him with drowsy eyes, a soft smile, and an endless stream of concern.

But tonight, as the door swung open, the stillness that greeted him felt unfamiliar for a while.

A strange, unplaceable irritation crawled under his skin. With a sharp exhale, he reached up, yanked off his tie, and tossed it aside before scanning the room.

Nothing looked drastically different, and yet, something felt off to him.

His gaze landed on the bookshelf. Half the books were gone.

His frown deepened. He strode to the wardrobe and pulled open the doors. It was still packed with clothes. But as his eyes flicked through the neatly arranged garments, he realized something was missing. Not a single piece belonged to Rosalie.

Julian's jaw tightened. He refused to believe that Rosalie had really agreed to get a divorce and moved out.

He thought, a mocking sneer curling at the corner of his lips, 'Is she trying to play hard to get? So now she wants to use tricks on me?'

But no matter how convinced he was that Rosalie wouldn't walk away so easily, the restless agitation creeping into his chest refused to subside. A vague sense of unease gnawed at him, unsettling in a way he couldn't quite ignore.

*****

After leaving the house she had shared with Julian for the past year, Rosalie didn't go anywhere else. She went straight to her own apartment downtown.

She rarely stayed there, but the place was always spotless—cleaned daily by hired staff, waiting for her return.

Rosalie set down her luggage, pulled out her phone, and dialed a number.

The call connected almost instantly. On the other end, a man's voice, thick with sleep, rasped through the speaker. "Rosa, I just dreamt about you, and now you're calling? Talk about being in sync."

She ignored his teasing and got straight to the point. "I need you to look into something for me. Once you have the details, compile the evidence and send it over."

She laid out exactly what she needed him to investigate, her voice cool and measured.

After hanging up, Rosalie lowered her gaze. A glint of icy determination flickered in her eyes.

*****

The next morning, Rosalie was up early. After freshening up, she gathered the necessary documents and drove straight to the courthouse.

By this time, the courthouse was already open, and people were steadily trickling in to finalize their divorces.

Rosalie stood at the entrance, waiting. An hour passed, and there was still no sign of Julian. Gradually, her patience was wearing thin.

She pulled out her phone and called him—no answer. She tried Alan next, but his phone was off too.

Rosalie checked the time. The courthouse would close for the day in an hour.

She had enough. She climbed back into her car and drove straight to Galloway Group's headquarters.

In the company parking lot, she pulled into a spot, killed the engine, and stepped out with a purpose. As she headed toward the entrance, she bumped into a woman.

Tall, curvy, and dressed to impress, the woman strutted toward her, her bleached blonde hair tumbling over one shoulder. Her face was unmistakably enhanced—overfilled lips, sharply arched brows, and the taut, unnatural smoothness of excessive cosmetic work.

Her tailored business attire clung in all the right places, strategically altered to highlight every seductive curve.

Rosalie recognized her instantly. She had seen this woman a few times before—back when she used to bring Julian lunch at the office.

The woman standing in Rosalie's path was Tiana West, a secretary from the Office of the Secretary under Julian's command. On occasion, Julian would bring her along to business gatherings, and after a few such outings, her arrogance had grown unchecked.

The way she looked at people carried an unmistakable air of superiority, as if she had already secured her place as the future Mrs. Galloway, merely waiting for Rosalie to be cast aside.

"Mrs. Galloway, here you are again." Tiana lifted her chin ever so slightly, emphasizing the unnatural plumpness of her surgically enhanced features.

Her gaze swept over Rosalie with an edge of disdain, but what stood out most was the way she deliberately stressed the word "again", as if Rosalie's presence was nothing more than an unwanted intrusion.

Rosalie met her gaze with a poised smile, her tone perfectly measured as she greeted, "Tiana."

Tiana's eyes flickered to Rosalie's empty hands, a glint of contempt flashing through them. "No homemade lunch for Mr. Galloway today?" she sneered. "Did you finally figure out that he throws away everything you make?"

The condescension and mockery in her voice was blatant, dripping with the kind of malice that only came from someone who reveled in another woman's downfall.

In the past, Rosalie had held back for Julian's sake, not bothering to engage with petty secretaries who overestimated their importance. But now that she didn't even care about Julian anymore, there was no reason for her to hold back. A mere secretary was no longer worth her consideration.

A cold smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she mused, 'Tiana must have mistaken my patience for weakness.'

Meanwhile, Tiana was carefully sizing Rosalie up, but the more she looked, the more unease crept into her gut.
Rosalie was dressed in a sleek, perfectly tailored dress—simple yet effortlessly elegant. And even if Tiana seethed with jealousy, she had to admit that Rosalie's beauty was unparalleled.

But beyond that, there was something else—something more unsettling. A quiet authority radiated from Rosalie, a presence sharp enough to make Tiana instinctively wary, though she refused to acknowledge why.

Tiana scoffed inwardly, 'She's nothing more than a trophy wife Julian married to appease his grandfather—a woman whose only skills are cooking for her husband and playing the dutiful wife, yet he doesn't love her.

'How could someone like her ever compare to me? I graduated from an elite university and hold a high-ranking position in a major corporation. She's leagues beneath me.'

And yet, despite convincing herself of Rosalie's insignificance, she couldn't help but let jealousy gnaw at her insides.

It was precisely that envy, laced with an underlying insecurity she refused to acknowledge, that drove her to flaunt her so-called superiority in Rosalie's presence.

Noticing the faint smirk playing at the corner of Rosalie's lips, Tiana was about to throw another jab at her. But the next second, a strong grip clamped down on her jaw.

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Novellair-The Reading Room

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