Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Ryan
I was assigned a room on the second floor, east side. I'd barely finished unpacking when someone knocked. I opened the door to find Declan holding a thick stack of files.
"Miss Clark, I thought you should know everything about Rose's condition." He smiled and set the pile on my desk, then took a seat nearby.
This was exactly what I needed. I thanked him quickly and dove into the files.
The deeper I read, the heavier my heart sank. I'd assumed Rose's withdrawal came from shyness or maybe bullying. I never imagined she'd witnessed her mother's death. What kind of trauma does that leave on a three-year-old?
I worked through every clinical note. The last therapist had lasted one week before writing: "Manor atmosphere oppressive. Not conducive to patient recovery." I had to agree. This place felt like a military compound—cold, locked down. And Ronan was the strangest piece of all.
"About this—" I pointed to the notation. "If the environment's this heavy, have you considered moving her somewhere else? Maybe an island, or a garden—"
"No!" Declan cut me off. His smile vanished. "Here, Rose's safety comes first. Above everything."
His reaction caught me off guard. I rolled my eyes internally. Rich people and their paranoia.
"Fine, fine. I get it. Relax."
"Miss Clark, you need to understand something. Without Mr. Valerius's explicit permission or a full security detail, Rose does not leave this manor. Remember that. Don't try anything stupid, or you'll regret it."
He stood and walked out.
"Asshole," I muttered at his back. My eyes drifted to the oil paintings on the walls. Ronan had been married. He had Rose. But nowhere in this massive manor was there a single photo or portrait of Rose's mother, which meant...
I shook my head hard. Ryan, focus. Your job is to help Rose, not play detective in some rich guy's house. Do your work. That's all.
"Good morning, Rose." I arrived at her room early, smiling. "I'm Ryan. We met yesterday."
Rose sat quietly in the chair by the window, clutching a worn teddy bear. She turned her head when I called her name. I sat beside her, opened my sketchbook, pulled out a blank page, and waved a pencil in front of her.
"Want to draw today?"
No response. Not even a finger twitch. I didn't push. I leaned back and started sketching—flowers, grass, simple things. When I finished, I held it up.
"Like it?"
Rose glanced at it. Barely. All right, not a fan. I tried again, this time drawing a fairy-tale princess. Before I could finish, someone knocked.
"Come in."
"Miss Clark, Miss Rose. Lunch is ready. Please come downstairs." Emily, Rose's caretaker, stepped inside with a polite smile. She moved toward Rose, reaching for her hand. Rose pulled back.
I crouched down, meeting Rose's eyes. "Sweetheart, it's time to eat. Come with me?"
I held out my hand. She took it and stood.
"Good girl."
The dining room looked like something out of a magazine. If I hadn't been holding Rose's hand, I'd have snapped a picture for Lulu.
Ronan wasn't there. But a woman sat in the chair beside the head of the table. She wore a crimson dress that hugged every curve, her blonde hair perfectly styled, her red lips bold and striking. She turned a wine glass slowly between her fingers, languid and unbothered.
"This is Miss Victoria Romanova, Rose's aunt," Emily whispered. "She lives here and helps care for Rose."
"Hi." I nodded at Victoria.
She looked up. Her gaze swept over me, then stopped on my hand holding Rose's. A moment later, she stood and walked over, smoothly taking Rose's hand from mine. Rose followed without resistance. Victoria guided her to the table and sat her down.
"How was your day, sweetheart?"
Rose didn't speak, but she looked up and gave a small nod. Victoria's lips curved. She stroked Rose's hair, affectionate.
"Good girl."
I sat across from them. Victoria turned her attention to me.
"So you're Ryan?" She looked me up and down, unimpressed.
"Yeah. First official day."
"Hope you're better than the last few."
I met her gaze. "I won't promise miracles. But I'll do everything I can."
"Everything you can?" Victoria scoffed. "Sounds pretty, but let's see if you're all talk."
"Whether I can help Rose or not, time will tell."
Victoria snorted and turned back to cutting Rose's food.
"Eat some of this, Rose." Her tone softened. Rose picked up her fork.
I watched. Victoria clearly loved Rose. And Rose accepted her. She didn't trust me yet, but as long as I could help Rose, I didn't care about the skepticism.
Days passed quietly. I spent most of my time in Rose's room, sitting with her, trying small interactions, slowly closing the distance.
I sketched the flowers on the windowsill, the trimmed hedges in the garden, and the old teddy bear she always held.
She barely reacted to anything except the bear. Finding what she liked would take time.
The nights were harder. Rose had frequent nightmares.
She'd wake up screaming, shaking, drenched in sweat.
I usually stayed until she was asleep, but tonight she didn't drift off until after midnight.
I didn't leave. I pulled out her clinical records, thinking through ways to ease her symptoms. Exhaustion crept in.
Before I knew it, I'd dozed off on the carpet.
I woke when my body left the ground. The sudden weightlessness jolted me awake. I grabbed his arm. The scent of patchouli hit me. Ronan's face was inches from mine.
"Put me down." My heart hammered. I tried to pull away.
He didn't let go. He carried me toward my room. His chest pressed against my shoulder and arm, heat seeping through the fabric. My face burned. My pulse raced.
"Sleeping on the floor will make you sick."
"I can walk."
I pushed at him. He held me tight. I gave up.
He shouldered my door open and set me on the bed. But he didn't leave. His gray eyes locked on mine, unreadable.
"I... I need to sleep..." My face flushed under his stare. I yanked the blanket over myself.
"Good night, Ryan." The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Something flickered in his eyes. "Next time you sleep on the floor, at least grab a pillow."
He turned and closed the door. I poked my head out from under the blanket. My heart still hadn't settled. I couldn't figure this man out. Cold during the interview. Now suddenly close. I couldn't read him. But men this unpredictable? Better to keep my distance.
Ronan seemed less busy lately. He showed up for lunch or dinner at least once a day. He only talked about Rose, his eyes constantly drifting to her. But Rose responded to her father the same way she responded to Victoria—maybe a few more nods, but nothing more.
The good news? My work was paying off. Rose spent more time outside her room.
Her favorite thing was walking with me in the garden, feeling the sun and the smell of grass.
One afternoon, she stopped suddenly. Her gray eyes locked on something near the lavender bushes, a flicker of curiosity crossing her face.
I followed her gaze. A fat orange cat sat there, washing its face with a pink paw, adorable and unbothered.
Rose took a tentative step forward. The cat's ears swiveled. It stood, stretched, and padded toward the rose bushes.
I took Rose's hand, ready to turn back. But Rose pulled free and followed the cat. Then she started running.
"Rose!" I hadn't expected her to move so fast. I chased after her, terrified she'd fall. My right foot caught in a dip in the stone path. I pitched forward. My knee slammed into the ground. My palms scraped across gravel. Pain shot through both.
I tried to stand. A strong hand reached down and pulled me upright. Ronan. I crashed into his chest, my forehead hitting his collarbone.
"Why do I always find you falling down?" His voice came from above, amused. The vibration in his chest made me tingle. The heat made me turn into a cooked shrimp. I pulled away quickly, pointing where Rose had run.
"Rose was chasing the cat—"
"I saw."
He plucked a lavender leaf from my temple, his fingertip brushing my skin.
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
His finger grazed my earlobe, then traced down my neck.
A shiver spread from that spot outward. I froze.
My shoulders tensed. My breath caught. He pulled his hand back casually, securing the strand behind my ear.
"Let Rose run around the manor. It's good for her. Just bring her back soon."
"Got it." I pulled away. "Actually, I think we should get Rose a cat."
Before Ronan could answer, Victoria walked past. When she heard my suggestion, she practically shrieked.
"Absolutely not! Animals have fleas, parasites, and rabies. If it scratches her or she touches it and doesn't wash her hands before eating, do you know how much that could set back her treatment? She's a child—she doesn't understand. But you don't either? We don't need that thing in this house!"
"That thing?" I stared at her. "You mean a cat that makes Rose smile? Or a cat that bothers you?"
Her expression went cold. "Ryan, know your place. This isn't your rental apartment or some clinical case study. Ronan doesn't like animals. And animals are dirty."
"Rose likes it."
"Rose needs stability, not a useless pet!"
"What she needs isn't for you to decide." I kept my temper in check, barely. "She chased that cat. She smiled. Do you know what that means for her?"
"You're oversimplifying." She laughed coldly. "You've been here how long and you think you can change the rules?"
I resisted rolling my eyes. "I'm not trying to change your stupid rules. I just want to give a seven-year-old girl something she likes."
"Naive."
"Maybe." I closed my notebook. "But at least I won't shut everything down just because it's 'dirty' or because I don't like it."
"You—"
"Enough!" Ronan finally spoke. "I don't agree."
Victoria shot me a triumphant glare and left.
"Ronan," I turned to him after she was gone. "Can you reconsider? Rose really needs this."
He stared at me, his tone flat, almost cold. "She doesn't. We don't keep pets."
"This isn't about pets. It's part of her treatment." I looked up at him, refusing to back down. "You saw her chase that cat. You know how much progress she's made."
"I know she's progressing. But that has nothing to do with getting a cat."
"It does." My voice was firm. "Rose needs something alive that makes her feel safe—something she can choose to approach or avoid. A cat is way better than a person."
Ronan's gaze stayed on my face. He didn't respond.
I grabbed his sleeve. "I've already looked into it. We can get a calm breed, keep it vaccinated, dewormed, clean. It won't mess up your house or cause any hygiene issues. You don't have to touch it. It'll just be with Rose..."
"Ryan." He cut me off, his voice lower. "Did you forget whose house this is?"
I stared at him. "I didn't forget. But Rose is your daughter, not your property."
Silence.
Ronan's expression didn't change, but something sad flickered in his eyes.
"Ronan, listen," I softened my tone. "This is the first time I've seen Rose show interest in anything. It could be a major breakthrough. We can't miss this chance."
He stayed quiet. I could hear my own heartbeat.
Finally, he laughed softly and stepped closer. We were so close I could smell that cold, oppressive patchouli scent. It reminded me of his finger on my neck. Heat flooded through me.
"You're negotiating with me." He looked down at me, his voice low. "But you're not good at negotiating."
I looked up. "Well, I'm not leaving empty-handed."
"Fine. I agree."
"Ronan, you can't—" I started to argue, then caught myself. "Wait. What? You agree?"
"You can have the cat. But I want to see better results. If it doesn't work, you and the cat both leave."
"Deal! Just watch!" I didn't care about the warning. As long as Rose got her cat, it was worth it. I turned and ran after Rose, calling her name, coaxing her back inside. When I took her hand to walk back, she kept turning to look at the bushes.
That night, I warmed a glass of milk and brought it upstairs.
Rose was already asleep. Maybe because she'd run so much chasing the cat, she didn't have nightmares.
Her brow was smooth. She looked peaceful.
I sat by her bed, pulled out my phone, and started searching for the right cat.
After scrolling through options, I settled on a Ragdoll—round face, blue eyes, soft fur, gentle and affectionate with kids. Perfect.
The next evening, Declan arrived with a cat carrier. Inside was a small kitten with soft cream-colored fur, pale gray on its ears, tail, and paws. Its round eyes looked like two clear glass marbles, shy and sweet.
"I can't believe Ronan agreed," Declan said, impressed.
"That's because I know how to negotiate." I grinned, took the carrier, and rushed to Rose's room.
I stood outside her door, took a deep breath, and knocked softly.
"Rose?" I called gently. "I'm coming in."
She was still in the rocking chair, looking at the stars. I set the carrier on the carpet and unlatched the door. The kitten curled into a ball at first, timid. Then it looked up, saw me and Rose, and inched forward.
Rose's eyes locked on the little ball of fluff. They widened slowly.
"This is for you, Rose." I sat beside her, smiling. "From now on, it'll stay with you."
The kitten sniffed cautiously, then crept toward Rose.
Rose moved. She let go of her old bear and slowly reached out her hand.
"Go ahead, sweetheart." I encouraged softly. "Hold it."
Rose's fingertips touched the soft fur.