Dusk Snow Hides All Return (Rowan and Adrienne) novel Chapter 9

Through the whole thing, Rowan didn't say a word. He didn't even open his eyes.

Not until an officer, polite but firm, asked him to stand up did he slowly lift his eyelids.

His gaze drifted past his parents, who wouldn't meet his eyes, past Adrienne, whose expression was a mess no one could read, and finally landed on Desmond's face, which was flooded with relief.

No hatred. No rage. No hurt.

Just a dead, lifeless kind of calm.

He quietly pulled the IV needle out of the back of his hand, slowly sat up, and got out of bed.

Adrienne watched how terrifyingly still he was, and her heart felt like some invisible hand had clamped down on it, squeezing so painfully that she could barely breathe. As he walked past her, she suddenly shot her hand out and grabbed his arm.

"Rowan..." Her voice came out rough, shaking in a way she didn't even notice. "You... just wait for me, three days max, I swear I'll get you out! After that... after that, wherever you want to go, whatever you want to do, I'll go with you! I'll make it up to you—whatever you want, you can have it!"

Rowan stopped, looked down, and glanced at the hand gripping his arm.

Then he raised his head and met her eyes.

Gently, but firmly, he peeled her fingers off.

One by one.

Not a single word.

Then he turned, followed the officer, and walked out of the ward, step by step.

Behind him, Mr. Ashford Sr. and Mrs. Ashford stammered, "Rowan... we... we didn't have a choice... once Desmond's out of this, we'll spend real time with you, we promise..."

Rowan's steps didn't falter, as if he hadn't heard a thing.

Adrienne stood frozen where he'd left her, watching him disappear around the corner of the hallway. The hand he'd pried open was still curled in the air, trembling faintly.

Three days in the Detention Center felt like three years.

It was cold, damp, and loud, with the cellmates giving him hostile looks and running their mouths.

The food was rough and simple, and the bed was a slab of wood.

His injuries still hurt. The conditions were brutal. Rowan barely slept at all.

But he stayed quiet. No crying, no outbursts, no talking to anyone. He just sat silently in his corner, staring up at the small, barred window near the ceiling.

Late on the third afternoon, he was finally released.

He stepped out through the heavy iron door, and the sunlight hit him hard.

He squinted, letting his eyes adjust.

He powered on his phone. Two messages were waiting.

One from Mrs. Ashford: [Rowan, your dad and I have to attend a really important charity gala. We won't be able to pick you up. Just grab a cab home, stay safe. Mom'll cook you something good when you're back to make it up to you.]

One from Adrienne: [Rowan, something urgent came up at the company—a major cross-border M&A meeting. I genuinely can't leave. Just head home first and rest up. I'll come see you tonight. After that, wherever you want to go, I'm there. Wait for me.]

Rowan read through both with zero expression. Then he opened his social media feed.

The first post that refreshed to the top was Desmond's, posted ten minutes earlier.

The house was empty. Everyone was clearly off with Desmond.

He walked into his cramped Guest Room, pulled two documents out of the drawer, and laid them neatly on the most visible spot on the coffee table in the living room.

One was the Voluntary Declaration of Severance of Parent-Child Relationship.

One was the Engagement Dissolution Agreement.

At the bottom of both, his name was already signed, clean and clear—Rowan Ashford.

Finally, he took one last look at this lavish, ice-cold house that had never once given him real warmth. He grabbed the handle of his suitcase, turned, and walked out without looking back.

Night had settled in. The cab sped toward the airport.

The Departure Hall was packed with people moving in every direction.

Rowan took a seat by the window, watching planes take off and land out on the runway, their lights blinking like distant stars.

The boarding announcement started coming over the speakers. He picked up his phone and opened his messaging app one last time.

Pinned at the top of the chat were his parents and Adrienne.

His finger hovered over the screen for a few seconds.

Then he closed the app, pulled out his SIM card, snapped it cleanly in half, and tossed it into the trash can beside him.

He grabbed his suitcase and walked toward the gate.

He never looked back.