Chapter Ten – A Woman Like Me
594 Words
Rossy stood in front of the massive double doors, heart hammering in her chest.
She had seen mansions in magazines, maybe passed a few in movies—but nothing prepared her for this.
Langston Estate.
Marble steps. Golden light spilling from antique chandeliers. Walls lined with art that looked like it belonged in museums.
She tightened her grip on the small purse Thomas had told her not to bring.
“I told you this wasn’t necessary,” he said, gently tugging her hand as they approached the door. “She asked for dinner, that’s all.”
Rossy gave him a look. “You think this is ‘just dinner’? Thomas, I’m wearing a borrowed dress and heels that don’t fit.”
“You look beautiful,” he said, without hesitation.
That didn’t stop her hands from shaking.
The door opened before she could answer.
And there she was.
Vivian Langston.
Regal. Icy. Not a strand of silver hair out of place. Pearl earrings. Blood-red lipstick. The kind of woman whose gaze made you stand taller—or shrink.
“You must be Rosslyn,” she said coolly.
Rossy,” Thomas corrected gently. “She prefers Rossy.”
Vivian’s lips curved—but it wasn’t a smile.
“Of course.”
Dinner was served on a table longer than Rossy’s dorm room.
Every fork felt like a test. Every word, a landmine.
Vivian barely ate. She sipped wine and watched Rossy with a polite predator’s eyes.
“So, Rossy,” she finally said. “You’re in university, correct?”
Rossy nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Final year.”
“Studying…?”
“Media and Communication. I want to go into storytelling or digital branding.”
Vivian’s brow lifted, barely. “How creative. I imagine that’s… fulfilling.”
Thomas cleared his throat. “She’s actually one of the top students. And her recent presentation won an award.”
“How admirable,” Vivian said, placing her wine glass down. “I do hope you understand, dear, that Thomas has a certain image to uphold. The Langston legacy spans generations.”
Rossy’s smile stiffened. “I do understand, ma’am.”
Vivian leaned back in her chair. “Do you? Because young women often confuse love with fantasy. And when the illusion fades, so does their place in our world.”
The room went cold.
Thomas’s jaw clenched. “Mother.”
Vivian didn’t look at him. Her eyes stayed on Rossy.
“I’m sure you’re lovely. But you must understand something, Rossy. Women like you don’t last long in our circles. Not because you aren’t good enough—” she tilted her head, voice calm “—but because our world was never made for a woman like you.”
Rossy swallowed. Her throat burned, but she smiled anyway.
“You’re right,” she said softly. “Your world wasn’t made for me. But that doesn’t mean I don’t belong.”
For the first time, Vivian blinked.
Rossy rose from her seat calmly, her hands folded in front of her.
“Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Langston. But I won’t sit where I’m not welcome.”
Thomas stood too, fury simmering beneath his calm expression.
“We’re leaving.”Vivian said nothing as they walked out.
But her silence was a promise.
In the car, Thomas reached for Rossy’s hand.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m okay,” she lied.
She wasn’t.
Because no matter how brave her words were, deep down… she wasn’t sure if love would be enough to survive a war with a family like his.
- Writer
