31
Rosalie leisurely strolled behind the group as they all walked down the long hall of portraits. Esme was the guide and every few seconds she would stop before a portrait to explain the history of said Duke or Duchess, prince or princess, or whatever important official from the family line that had already passed on.
Rosalie could not focus no matter how much she tried. She was grateful she was at the back of the group on her own so that Esme could not see her. Something was amiss and it had something to do with her memory. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep the other night for the second time was being with Creed and crying in his arms.
Something definitely happened afterwards but she could not piece them together. There was a void in the back of her head—in her memo
