Chapter 24
The day Rosalind left the hospital, the snow had just cleared, leaving the trees along Harley Street crystalline with frost under a pristine blue sky.
Randolph drove to collect her himself. The couple sat in silence, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words.
Young Gabriella sat in the back, drawing pictures on the foggy window, her heart light with joy.
Mum was finally coming home.
She drew their family of three on the window, her face bright with happiness.
Seeing the drawing, Rosalind’s eyes filled with tears. She turned away quickly, composing herself before managing
a smile. “Your birthday’s coming up, darling. What would you like?”
Still drawing, Gabriella answered brightly, “I’d love a Beagle figurine, Mum.”
“A Beagle?” Rosalind’s voice was gentle. “Like… a real dog?”
“No, no,” Gabriella shook her head. “It’s a ceramic one. Victoria says there’s this lovely pottery studio in Marylebone where we can paint our own. She and James went last week and made the sweetest figures.”
Rosalind smiled softly. “Then that’s what we’ll do, darling.”
On Gabriella’s twelfth birthday, snow fell over London.
Mother and daughter walked hand in hand into the studio, where they’d pre–ordered an unpainted Beagle figure. The owner brought out their piece, and they began painting together.
It was their first collaborative art project.
The result delighted Gabriella–her Beagle looked even lovelier than the sample.
They left for the patisserie nearby.
Walking through the falling snow, Rosalind carrying a cake box in one hand and holding Gabriella’s hand with the other, she suddenly stopped. She turned to look at her daughter, love and longing in her eyes.
“Gabriella, darling, I love you. So very, very much.” Her voice was soft, almost lost in the winter wind.
Gabriella’s nose was pink from the cold.
Her mother often expressed her love, so she noticed nothing unusual. “I love you too, Mum!”
Rosalind’s eyes welled up again.
Her precious girl was only twelve. How would she manage without her mother?
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She turned away quickly, continuing their walk before Gabriella could see her tears.
They crossed through the busy streets to the car park where Randolph waited.
From a distance, Gabriella saw her father smoking, grief etched on his face.
She’d rarely seen him look so desolate, but when he spotted them, the expression vanished instantly.
Gabriella thought she’d imagined it.
Randolph stubbed out his cigarette, voice rough as he said, “Welcome back.”
Rosalind responded with a soft “mm.”
That evening, Randolph cooked dinner himself.
Their little family gathered around the table in apparent harmony as Gabriella, wearing a paper crown, made her birthday wish and blew out her candles.
The crisis came during dessert.
As Rosalind lifted a forkful of cake, she suddenly began coughing up blood.
Gabriella froze in horror, her own cake falling to the floor, staining her new shoes.
Randolph gathered Rosalind in his arms, voice breaking, “Darling, don’t do this. We’re going to hospital right now.”
Their housekeeper frantically called 999 while Gabriella stood paralyzed, mind blank.
How had this happened? Everything had been fine moments ago. Why was Mum suddenly so ill?
Hadn’t the doctors said she could come home?
Wasn’t she better?
The ambulance arrived quickly.
As paramedics loaded Rosalind, Gabriella saw her mother looking back tearfully, trying to speak.
Too weak to form words, she mouthed something Gabriella could just make out.
“I’m sorry.”
Gabriella burst into tears, running out into the snowstorm.
“Mum, please don’t go…”
The ambulance had to leave immediately, not waiting for Gabriella.
She chased it until it disappeared from view.
Corsu My Sten Uncle I’m Not Your Bact
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Chapter 24
That night, Rosalind passed away.
Randolph stayed with her through the night, weeping uncontrollably,
Gabriella didn’t know this at the time,
She’d fallen in the snow, and their housekeeper had carried her home.
That night, Gabriella burned with fever, crying out for her mother until morning
When she woke, they told her her mother was gone.
Gabriella couldn’t bear to see her mother’s body at the hospital. She couldn’t face the reality of that cold shell
She told herself that as long as she didn’t see it, her mother was still alive, just away on a trip.
In her heart, that warm, bright woman who lit up rooms with her smile lived on forever.
After Rosalind’s death, Gabriella spent days clutching the ceramic Beagle, refusing food and crying silently when she wasn’t sleeping
Randolph seemed to age a decade overnight. The light left his eyes, his hair grayed rapidly, and he had no energy left to care for his daughter.
He was later diagnosed with clinical depression.
Gabriella had believed he would never remarry–he’d loved her mother so deeply, how could he ever love another?
But two years later, he married her mother’s best friend.
Gabriella had reacted violently, moving into her boarding school dorm immediately. Even during holidays, she’d shut herself in her room, refusing to speak to them.
Her relationship with Randolph had just begun to heal during university when he announced her arranged marriage to the Blackwoods, shattering their fragile peace.
Randolph must have been truly angry–he’d always indulged Gabriella before, but he refused to budge on the marriage, even freezing her accounts to force her compGabbynce.
For Gabriella, the arranged marriage was just the final straw.
She’d run away primarily because of the remarriage.
He’d betrayed her mother.
Gabriella believed Randolph wanted the arranged marriage to get rid of her, that the Rodriguez manor no longer
had room for her.
So she’d left in anger, staying away for three years.
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She’d kept the Beagle figurine with her always.
It was her spiritual anchor, her mother’s final gift, her most precious possession.
Now it lay shattered.
And her heart with it.
When she’d cried herself out, she began thinking of solutions.
A master restorer might be able to save it.
She posted a photo of the pieces on Instagram.
[Urgently seeking master ceramic restorer.]
Her London connections were extensive–relatives in high places, friends from wealthy families. Finding a restorer shouldn’t be difficult.
Within minutes, Asher called.
She thought he’d recommend someone, answering quickly.
His voice was urgent with worry. “Gabby, are you hurt?”
Gabriella paused, then realized–she hadn’t cleaned the blood from the ceramic shards.
“No, not my blood.”
“What happened? How did Rosalind’s Beagle break?”
Gabriella fell silent.
She didn’t know where to begin.
More surprising was that Asher had recognized her mother’s gift from just the fragments.
His voice turned decisive. “I’m heading to the airport. Wait for me. I’m coming to New York.”
