July 5th, 1995.

Rose stood in front of her father's study, the grand double doors towering over her. She had come to the Cornwall estate that morning intending to pack her most important belongings she would need for the summer. However, what began as two trunks meant for a brief holiday had turned into seven, now intended for never returning to the manor. She left a good deal of things behind, knowing that if she ever needed them Theo could retrieve them for her. She planned to leave the excess trunks at the London house, which was hers by right since she came of age. Her plan was clear: go on holiday, return for school in the autumn, and never look back.

But still, she stood in front of the study door, unwilling to move. She knew he was in there, reading away, and the proper thing to do would be to say goodbye. Despite knowing what kind of man her father truly was, her feet refused to move.

"Come in, Rosalie," her father's voice rang out, calm and composed, as the door opened before her.

Rose took a deep breath and stepped inside. The study was just as she remembered: dark mahogany shelves lined with leather-bound books, the heavy scent of old parchment and a faint hint of cigar smoke lingering in the air. Her father, seated behind the imposing oak desk, looked up from his reading with a mild, almost indifferent expression.

"I came to say goodbye," she said, her voice steady though her heart was pounding.

"I know," he replied, setting his book aside and folding his hands neatly on the desk.

"It's more than a goodbye, really," she said, hesitating. "I don't think I'll return here."

"Not while I'm alive, I imagine," he responded, his tone devoid of emotion.

"Father, please. Don't pretend you don't know my reasons."

"I know your reasons," he acknowledged, nodding slightly. "I will support your decision."

"Support it?" she scoffed, taking a step closer. "You support it because there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"I support it because I love my daughter," he said, his eyes meeting hers with a rare softness.

"Don't lie!" she snapped, her anger flaring.

He gestured to the chair in front of him. "Sit, Rosalie."

"The hell I will. I am of age, Father, as you very well know. If I decided to move to New Zealand and make hats for a living, you wouldn't be able to stop me."

"I know I wouldn't. As you said, you are of age," his face darkened. "Of course, the matter of your inheritance—"

"The matter of my inheritance?" she laughed, a bitter sound. "I'd say it's a little too late to disinherit me now, dear Father."

He rose slowly from his chair and walked to a cabinet on her left. The room was silent except for the soft click of the cabinet door. He pulled out a large envelope and a wand. Without thinking, Rosalie flinched and took a step back.

"Rosalie, it's your wand," he said, placing both items on the desk.

"My wand?" Her voice was filled with shock and betrayal. "How dare you!"

He placed the wand and envelope carefully on the desk in front of her. "Do you think that I don't know?" her voice rose, filled with disgust. "Did you think that I wouldn't find out where you were and what you did?" Heat rose in her cheeks. "That I wouldn't know where you found my wand?"

"Everything I have ever done—everything—was only to protect you and Theodore," he said, his voice steady but strained.

"How dare you! I know exactly how you protect your children," she spat, her face twisted in anger. "By cowering and throwing yourself at your master's feet while your daughter—" she was screaming now, her fists clenched. "Your only daughter..." tears welled up in her eyes. "Tell me, Father, did you think your master had killed me?"

"Rosalie—"

"Don't!" she screamed once again, her voice echoing off the walls. "I want nothing, and I repeat, nothing to do with you anymore."

"Cornelius Fudge will offer you a position at the Ministry for the summer. You would be wise to accept it," he pushed the envelope towards her. "Read this."

"Perhaps age has caught up to you, Father, if you are so delusional to think I would ever take an order from you again," she retorted, snatching the envelope and tucking it under her arm. She glared at the wand on the desk, her heart pounding in her chest.

"I remember the day I bought that wand for you," he said softly, almost to himself. "When Mr. Ollivander told you that cypress wands were a symbol of nobility and heroes, you smiled so very brightly. I hadn't seen you that happy since your mother passed."

Rose took a step back, her hands trembling. "I have chosen my path," she said firmly. She reached out and picked up the wand, feeling its familiar weight in her hand. "This name, this house and—" she snapped the wand in half with a sharp crack, her father's eyes widening in shock, "—even this wand, none of it suits me anymore."

"We will have dinner on Sunday," he said quietly, almost as if in defeat. "Like a family."

"Goodbye, Father," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rose turned and walked out of the study, her steps growing firmer with each stride.

She exited the manor, her trunks floating behind her, and took a deep breath once she crossed the outer gates of the estate. The fresh air filled her lungs, carrying with it the scent of something new—

—Freedom.

I am truly overwhelmed that we've reached the conclusion of the first part of Rose's story.

I want to extend my most honest gratitude to each and every one of you for reading this story. There are no words to express how thankful I am to those who have read, commented, bookmarked, or given kudos.

Once again, thank you!

If you would like to continue following Rose and her friends, the sequel "Adrenaline" will be out very soon.

Sending many many hugs and kisses your way. Until next time,
💗💗💗