Love Burned, She Rose Unscathed

"Do you want to my wife?" He always knew what she wanted but never offered it freely.

Murray offered, "I'll have my driver take you home."

"No need. I've called an Uber."

Cliff intervened, "Roseanne, let me walk you to the door."

Roseanne waved him off and turned to leave.

"Murray, look at the mess... I think Roseanne is genuinely upset this time."

"Nah, it's nothing."

"Exactly! How many times have they had a spat? And every time, Roseanne returned after a few days, acting like nothing was wrong at the next party."

"I bet five days."

"I say six."

Murray glanced at the door left ajar, his smile tinged with coldness. "I bet three hours tops. She'll come running back to me."

"Right, Murray's a sure win. The whole world knows Roseanne is madly in love with him."

"Man, why can't any woman be that devoted to me?"

"You? Dream on, pal!"

The guys burst into laughter.

Returning to the mansion past midnight, Roseanne took half an hour to pack.

She'd been there three years, but when she left, all her important stuff fit into just one suitcase.

The walk-in closet was full of unworn designer clothes, the jewelry never worn, and she left it all behind.

The only regret was the wall of professional books. Luckily, Roseanne had the content memorized. The medium was no longer significant.

Her gaze swept over the vanity, and she walked over to open a drawer. Inside was a check for seventy million dollars. Beneath the check was a contract for the property transfer at 72 Eastwood Acres. Despite being in the suburbs, it was conservatively worth twenty million. Murray signed both items during a previous breakup scare and tucked them away in the drawer, betting that Roseanne wouldn't dare to take them. Because to take them would mean the end of their relationship.

Six years for seventy million? Suddenly, Roseanne felt it wasn't a loss. How many women could claim their youth was worth that much? She packed both items into her bag.

Roseanne thought, 'Why not take what he gives me? Without love, at least there's money.'

She wasn't some naive heroine from a romance novel who saw money as dirt.

"Hello, cleaning service? Do you take rush orders?"

"Yes, a big clean-up. I'll pay extra."

Leaving the keys in the foyer, Roseanne got into the taxi, heading straight for her best friend's place.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

On the way, the cleaning lady called again to confirm. "Are you sure you don't want to take any of this stuff with you?"

Roseanne replied, "Yeah, do whatever you see fit."

After hanging up, Murray arrived home in the wee hours to find the cleaning lady had finished and left. The overpowering scent of perfume was giving him a headache. Loosening his collar, he sat on the couch, only to fall asleep there.

The next day, he woke to the familiar clanking sound of the dishes in the kitchen. He sat up, rubbing his temples while reaching for his water glass, only to grab at thin air. His hand paused mid-air above the coffee table.

Then, he smirked slightly, thinking Roseanne had returned. The blanket was on him, but she hadn't prepared his hangover tea.

'She hasn't had enough of "incomplete confrontation" over the years, huh?' Murray thought and stood up. "Today, you'd better..."

"Mr. Sherwood, you're awake?"

Murray looked surprised. "Sadie?"

Sadie said respectfully, "Please freshen up. Breakfast will be ready in two minutes. Oh, were you cold sleeping here? I turned on the heating and added an extra blanket just in case." "Right."