Chapter 94 Your Family's Future?

• Liam stood there, utterly motionless, like one of those cursed knights turned to stone in some old tale. Only, this wasn’t myth or magic—it was worse. It was Rosie. Rosie, standing there in the grand foyer that suddenly felt about three sizes too big for both of them, her words still bouncing around the marble like rubber bullets. Each one landing squarely, then ricocheting, then hitting again, just for good measure.
• He blinked. Once. Twice. Slowly. Every syllable she’d uttered reassembled itself in his head—terms, conditions, deadlines. The "we're doing this my way now" contract language of someone who wasn’t just done but was done with a pen and signature already dry. The cold finality of it made his ears ring.
• This was it. He’d done it. Finally. Officially. Irrevocably messed up what could’ve been the first real thing in years. After Caroline, after all the clever little messes he’d made of his romantic life like some drunk sculptor, he'd thought he’d hardened. But this—this cracked straight through. Rosie had snuck in through the walls he’d built, probably while humming something distracting and chaotic like she always did, and lodged herself under his skin. And now she was walking out. Or, worse, staying—but only in the strictest, coldest capacity.