Sophie's world shattered the moment the words left her grandfather's mouth.
Eve . . . a Rosette?
The very thought felt like a dagger piercing her chest, twisting with every second that passed.
How could this be happening?
For years, Sophie had reveled in her superiority, in the certainty that she was the
true
Rosette. She would have flaunted it at every opportunity in the future, relishing the power and status that came with her name.
Eve was nothing—a nobody with no family, no claim to anything of importance.
And now . . .
this
?
Sophie's mind raced, her pulse thundering in her ears as disbelief and fury warred within her. Her lips parted in a soundless gasp, her throat tight as if the air had been sucked from the room.
She was
smug
, always so confident that Eve would never belong to their world, that she was forever destined to be a cannon fodder with no name.
Sophie had mocked her for it, belittled her at every turn, reveling in her loneliness.
But now—
now
—Eve was a Rosette?
Her blood turned to ice as the revelation crashed down on her.
Eve wasn't just some distant, irrelevant figure anymore. She was officially, legally . . .
her aunt
.
Sophie's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding wildly. It was absurd—insulting, even.
How could this
nobody
suddenly rise to such a position of power?
It was like the universe was playing a cruel, twisted joke on her, rewriting the rules of her life without her consent.
Her aunt
. The thought felt vile, like something unholy crawling through her mind. Eve, the woman Sophie had spent her entire life looking down on, was now her relative. The power Sophie had held over Eve had evaporated in an instant.
And it wasn't just the title—Eve was now an
official
member of the Rosette family, with all the influence and prestige that came with it.
How could this happen?
Sophie's vision blurred with hot tears that she refused to let fall. This was her night, her
birthday
! It was supposed to be about
her
.
But now, Eve—
that
woman
—had stolen everything. The attention, the admiration, the very thing Sophie had prided herself on—her name.
And what's worse?
Sophie's lips curled in disgust as the final sting landed. Eve wasn't just anyone—
she was her aunt!
The absurdity of it was too much.
Sophie felt her legs weaken beneath her as the rage and disbelief burned through her veins. It was a nightmare, a cruel, humiliating farce that she couldn't escape.
How did this happen?
Sophie glared at Eve, who stood calm and composed in her magnificent gown, exuding grace and poise.
It made Sophie sick. How had everything flipped upside down so completely?
Sullivan's jaw tightened, his eyes darting to Eve and then back to his father. "What . . . What are you planning?"
"Nothing much," Sinclair said with a dismissive shrug, his calmness unsettling in the midst of Sullivan's unraveling composure.
"But while I have everyone's attention, let me make another important announcement." Sinclair's voice rose, commanding the room. "From now on, I appoint Victor Raknov as President of Rosette Corporation."
The crowd gasped. The shock was immediate, a wave of disbelief rippling through the room.
Sullivan's face drained of color. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Are you out of your mind, Father? You're going to let a
nobody
run our company?!"
"And why not?" Sinclair's eyes gleamed with defiance, his authority undeniable. "Victor is more than capable. In fact, he's already been handling the CEO's responsibilities in my absence."
Sullivan opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak, a slow, mocking clap echoed from the back of the room.
The crowd parted, revealing Stefan Rosette strolling in, his lips twisted into a sneer.
"Well, well," Stefan said, his voice laced with venomous sarcasm. "I see you've developed quite the habit of adopting strays, Father. How generous of you. First Eve, now Victor. You really do have a soft spot for the homeless."
His words dripped with disdain as his gaze shifted to Victor and Eve, his contempt unmistakable.
Though the first son, Sullivan, was known for his stern, no-nonsense demeanor, it was Stefan, the second son, who truly captured the crowd's attention.
Stefan was everything his older brother wasn't—charismatic, outgoing, and unpredictable.
Where Sullivan was rigid and controlled, Stefan was a whirlwind of energy, a playboy with a devil-may-care attitude and a tongue as sharp as it was reckless.
He was infamous for it—his brazen, unapologetic mouth that knew no restraint. Stefan said whatever he pleased, whenever he pleased, never fearing the consequences.
Why would he? He was a Rosette, untouchable in the eyes of most, his family name a shield that allowed him to laugh in the face of decorum and social grace.
The crowd had come to expect it—the biting remarks, the unfiltered thoughts that tumbled from his lips like poison-laced arrows.
He was a walking scandal, always teetering on the edge of controversy, yet somehow thriving on the chaos he left in his wake.
Sinclair remained unfazed, his expression calm, his power absolute. "If you'd done your job properly, the both of you," he said, voice cold as ice, "perhaps I wouldn't have needed to bring in such capable 'strays.'"
Sullivan and Stefan's faces darkened at the sharp rebuke, their pride wounded.
Stefan stepped forward, his grin fading into something more sinister. "Father, everyone here can agree that putting an outsider—no, a
nobody
—into the president's chair is unheard of. Are you not concerned that our investors will flee because of this reckless decision?"
Sinclair's lips curled into a dangerous smirk. "And what would you know about the family business, Stefan? You've only just returned from gallivanting across the country, playing at being important. How dare you question my decisions?"
Stefan's confident façade crumbled, his charming smile replaced with a look of anger and humiliation.
"Victor," Sinclair continued, his voice steady, "has been my right-hand man for years. Our loyal investors trust him, as do I. And for your information, I hold over 50% of the company's shares. Tell me—who exactly do you think would dare oppose me?"
The room fell silent, the weight of Sinclair's words hanging in the air. His authority was absolute, his dominance unquestionable. No one dared speak against him, not even his sons.
Sinclair's voice, calm and domineering, cut through the tension. "So unless anyone has a death wish, I suggest you all fall in line."