Rebirth: The New Bride Wants A Divorce-Chapter 403: I am proud of you wifey

Roseline was discharged the very same day after assuring the doctors that nothing major had happened. A few stitches on her arm, a brief observation, and she was asked to leave.

By morning, she was already back at the Bennett Mansion.

Anna arrived shortly after breakfast.

The house looked exactly as it always did—polished, composed, untouched by chaos. Too untouched for a place where someone had supposedly been attacked just hours ago.

"I heard what happened," Anna said gently as she stepped closer. "How are you doing, Mom?"

Roseline looked up from the couch, her posture relaxed, her hair neatly arranged. If not for the white bandage wrapped around her arm, she could have passed for someone enjoying a perfectly normal morning.

"I’m fine," Roseline replied with a soft smile. "Honestly, it still feels unreal. I never imagined Ester would do something like that."

Her voice carried disbelief—carefully measured and convincing.

Anna’s gaze drifted to the bandage, lingering for a second longer than necessary, before she lifted her eyes to meet her mother’s face.

Roseline was smiling.

Not the strained smile of someone shaken by violence. Not the guarded look of a woman who had survived an attack.

A composed smile.

Too composed.

"I’m just grateful it wasn’t worse," Roseline continued, shaking her head. "People surprise you, Anna. Sometimes in the worst ways."

Anna nodded slowly and took a seat opposite her. "Yes... they do."

A flicker crossed Roseline’s face—brief, sharp—before settling back into concern.

"It’s tragic, really," Roseline added. "Ester losing control like that. I would never have believed she was capable of such violence."

Anna tilted her head slightly, studying her mother.

That was when Roseline’s expression shifted—just a fraction—her lips tightening into a faint scowl before she smoothed it away. It was subtle, almost imperceptible. But Anna saw it.

She always did.

"I don’t understand something," Anna said calmly.

Roseline stiffened almost invisibly. "What is it, dear?"

"You said Ester attacked you because you refused to help her," Anna began. "But you never mentioned she threatened you before that."

Roseline’s fingers curled around the edge of the cushion.

"Well," she said lightly, "I didn’t think it was important. She was emotional. Desperate. I didn’t want to worry anyone unnecessarily."

Anna leaned back, her tone still even. "But she must have said something severe enough for you to believe she’d actually hurt you."

Roseline laughed softly, waving her free hand. "People say all sorts of things when they’re under pressure. I didn’t think she meant it."

Anna’s eyes sharpened.

"That’s strange," she said. "Because Ester has always been... timid."

Roseline’s smile faltered for half a second.

"She’s emotional," Roseline corrected quickly. "Emotions make people unpredictable."

Anna nodded. "Yes. But I remember when you were attacked not too long"

Roseline froze when she heard Anna bring up the same topic.

"Ester was there. She was shaking so badly she could barely stand. She looked terrified seeing the blood oozing from your body"

Silence settled between them.

"And now," Anna added, her voice still mild, "you’re telling me she not only attacked you—but did it deliberately, with enough force to injure you?"

Roseline swallowed when Anna looked at her with that deleberately suspicious look.

"I suppose... people change," Roseline said carefully. "Losing everything does that. Desperation erases fear."

Anna smiled faintly. "Yes. It does."

She paused, then asked, "But why didn’t you tell me about her threats, Mom?"

Roseline’s breath hitched.

"I didn’t want to involve you," she replied quickly. "You already have so much on your plate."

"That’s not like you," Anna said softly.

Roseline’s eyes flickered. "What do you mean?"

"You’ve always believed in facing things together," Anna replied. "You taught me that. So it feels... unlike you to handle something this serious alone."

Anna said that because all her life she did everything what her parents told her believing that’s what a family do in the time of crisis. But now she doubted if it was ever meant to be.

Roseline shifted, her shoulders tensing beneath her silk robe.

"I was protecting you," she insisted. "That’s what mothers do."

Anna leaned forward slightly. "Or were you protecting yourself?"

The words landed quietly—but with precision, leaving Roseline stunned.

"I-I don’t know what you’re implying," she said, her voice tightening a little.

"I’m not implying anything," Anna replied calmly. "I’m just trying to understand."

She met her mother’s gaze directly now. "If Ester really threatened you... if she really crossed that line... why hide it? Why endure it alone? And why does it sound like you’re filling in pieces only when I ask?"

Roseline opened her mouth, then closed it.

"Well—because—" she faltered, then forced a smile. "Because I didn’t want to make assumptions."

Anna studied her for a long moment. Inside, something settled into place. It wasn’t proof. It wasn’t certainty. But it was pattern.

Her mother wasn’t lying outright—she was editing. Shaping the truth. Controlling what was seen and what was hidden.

Roseline watched Anna carefully now, realizing she had miscalculated. The doubts in her daughter’s eyes were no longer subtle.

"So you believe me," Roseline said, her voice gentle but probing. "Don’t you?"

Anna held her gaze.

"I believe something happened," she replied. "I just don’t think I know everything yet."

Roseline’s heart skipped. She smiled again—but this time, it didn’t reach her eyes.

"Well," she said smoothly, "I suppose some things are better left buried."

Anna stood slowly. "Maybe. Or maybe some things grow more dangerous when they are."

Roseline’s fingers tightened against the cushion as Anna smiled meaningfully.

"By the way," Anna said lightly, as if remembering something inconsequential, "did you hear that Ester’s actions cost the Stewards whatever little stability they had left?"

She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. "Dad can be... vicious when he wants to be."

Roseline’s lips curved faintly. Anna’s tone sounded amused, almost mocking—but something beneath it felt deliberate.

"They’re doomed entirely," Anna added.

Roseline watched her closely. The way Anna smiled didn’t match the words. It wasn’t cruelty—it was calculation.

"They deserve it," Roseline sneered. "It was long overdue. Your father should never have kept them around in the first place."

Anna turned and smiled back at her mother, slow and knowing.

"But you did intend to help them," she said calmly. "That day you called Daniel to the house—it wasn’t a casual meeting, Mom. You were trying to convince him to withdraw the charges against the Stewards."

The room went still.

The warmth drained from Roseline’s expression, her smile faltering as her eyes hardened.

Anna continued, her voice steady, unhurried. "If I hadn’t walked in that day and sensed something was off... if I hadn’t pushed Daniel to talk... I would never have known."

Roseline stared at her, stunned for a brief moment.

"So," she sneered at last, regaining her composure, "he told you."

Anna shook her head once. "No. He didn’t."

Roseline frowned.

"I made him speak," Anna clarified. Her tone was calm, clear—unapologetic. It was a side of her Roseline hadn’t seen before. Or perhaps had chosen not to see.

For the first time, Roseline truly looked at her daughter. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

"But he didn’t agree," Roseline said quickly, trying to steer the conversation away. "And I didn’t force him either."

Anna nodded. "Yes. Because he wanted me to decide."

Her gaze sharpened.

"And I decided not to forgive them."

A pause.

Anna’s lips curved faintly, but this time the smile held no warmth.

And now I regret it, she thought. Because even then, you were still protecting them—unaware of the secrets they were hiding.

The irony almost made her laugh.

She glanced around the room, suddenly aware that staying any longer would only loosen words she had no intention of giving away. She had pressed enough. Seen enough.

Anna rose slowly.

Roseline relaxed a fraction, mistaking the movement for retreat.

Anna took a step toward the door, then stopped.

She turned back.

"And just so you know," she said quietly, her voice carrying an edge that cut through the air, "Collin has escaped."

Roseline froze.

The color drained from her face as the meaning sank in—not just the words, but the implication behind them.

Anna didn’t wait to see the reaction fully bloom.

She turned on her heels and walked away, leaving Roseline seated in silence—her carefully constructed composure unraveling, her mind racing with questions she hadn’t anticipated.

And for the first time, Roseline perplexed whether her daughter was no longer observing the game— But playing it.

***

Meanwhile, Anna stormed out of the house, her steps sharp and unrestrained as she crossed the courtyard and headed straight for the car parked outside the gates.

The moment she opened the door and slid inside, the dam broke.

Daniel, who had been waiting patiently behind the wheel—giving her the space she needed—barely had time to turn before Anna lunged toward him and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

"Tell me I did my best," she whispered, her voice trembling as she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

She inhaled deeply, letting his familiar scent steady her racing heart. It grounded her in a way nothing else could. Her fingers clenched into his jacket, holding on as if he were the only thing keeping her from unraveling.

Only Anna knew how hard it had been.

How every instinct in her had screamed to lash out. To confront her mother outright. To demand the truth and tear apart every carefully crafted lie.

But she hadn’t.

She had listened. Observed. Measured every word.

And now, there was no doubt left in her mind.

Her mother wasn’t innocent—not in the way she pretended to be. She was calculated. Manipulative. Skilled enough to twist reality until others believed the version she wanted them to see.

That realization hurt more than anger ever could.

Daniel tightened his arms around her, pulling her closer, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. His fingers threaded gently through her hair, slow and reassuring, as if reminding her to breathe.

"You did more than your best," he said softly. "I’m proud of you, wifey."

The word—warm, familiar—made her chest ache.