Chapter 13: Chapter 11: Secret Crush

Isla Prescott was discharged from the hospital at noon.

As she was leaving, Shane Sterling’s driver helped her carry the heavy fruit basket.

“Miss Prescott, should we take that bouquet as well?” the driver asked.

Isla Prescott turned to look at the bouquet of Freud roses on the nightstand. The flowers were in full, vibrant bloom, and she couldn’t bear to throw them away.

“Let’s take them as well. Thank you.”

The driver took Isla Prescott back to the university.

Her dorm room was empty; her roommates were in class. Isla Prescott unwrapped the fruit basket, divided the fruit between her two roommates, and then climbed into bed to get some sleep.

She had just lain down when her supervisor, June Underwood, gave her a call. June asked about Isla Prescott’s health and mentioned that Violet Keith had been arrested and confessed to everything.

“The police are so efficient,” Isla Prescott said.

“Of course. Young Mr. Shaw was putting on the pressure yesterday before you even woke up. Once he says something, who would dare to slack off?”

An image of Shane Sterling’s debonair face flashed through Isla Prescott’s mind. She really owed him a huge favor for this whole ordeal.

That evening, her two roommates returned from class to find Isla Prescott had already been discharged. They both gathered around.

“Isabelle, are you okay?” Her roommate Mia leaned against her bed, looking with concern at the scar on her head. “Are you dizzy?”

“I’m all right.”

“Violet Keith must be insane! She was the one who was wrong in the first place, and she still had the nerve to retaliate so viciously!” her roommate Jade fumed on her behalf. “But I heard from our class advisor that she’s been locked up. Looks like she’ll be doing hard time for a few years.”

“Good thing Isabelle’s okay. Otherwise, her sentence would’ve been even harsher.”

“I know, right? She’s so foolish. To do all that for one spot in the dance troupe, and then throw her whole life away for it. She really dropped the watermelon to pick up a sesame seed.”

Jade and Mia both lamented Violet Keith’s fate, and the mood in the room grew heavy. Afraid of bringing everyone down, Isla Prescott quickly changed the subject. “Jade, Mia, a friend sent some fruit. It’s on the table. I already split it for you guys. Go wash some and have a bite.”

“Whoa, thanks! I’ll wash it so we can all eat!”

Jade picked up the Shine Muscat grapes from the table, but her eyes were immediately drawn to the bouquet of Freud roses.

“Isabelle, are these flowers from that same friend?”

“Yeah.”

Jade flashed a sly grin. “He’s a guy, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“So, does he have a crush on you?”

Isla Prescott was confused. “What makes you say that?”

“You don’t know the language of flowers for Freud roses?”

“No. What does it mean?”

“Hold on, I’ll look it up for you.”

Jade set the grapes aside and pulled out her phone. She searched and found an image—a hand-drawn picture of a Freud rose. The artist’s skill was evident; the velvety texture of the petals seemed to leap right off the page.

Beneath the drawing was a line of small text in a neat script—the language of the Freud rose.

“You wander so casually through my dreams, awakening a stirring deep within my soul.”

’Isla Prescott silently read the line to herself. Her first reaction was that there was no way Shane Sterling was this kind of artsy, sentimental person. It just wasn’t his style.’

“Isabelle, it’s the flower of unrequited love,” Jade added.

’Unrequited love?’

’That’s even more impossible. Taking what he wants by force—that’s Shane Sterling’s style.’

“It has to be a coincidence. My friend doesn’t seem like the type to know about the language of flowers. I mean, look, even I didn’t know.” Isla Prescott turned to Mia for confirmation. “Mia, did you know?”

Mia shook her head. “I didn’t either.”

“See?”

Jade wasn’t convinced. “Isabelle, you’re so beautiful. It’s perfectly normal for someone to have a secret crush on you.”

’That depends on who it is,’ Isla Prescott thought.

’For someone in Shane Sterling’s circle, even famous actresses are his for the asking. Beauty, to him, is a dime a dozen.’

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but not him. He really wouldn’t.”

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