The Mistress Who Ran Away With The Twins-Chapter 180: What Regret Cannot Undo

Rosanna inhaled sharply.

She remained seated for a moment longer than necessary, her hands resting stiffly on her lap as she stared at the empty chair across from her—the space where Sylvia had been sitting only minutes ago. It felt colder now, as if whatever fragile warmth had existed during their conversation—if it could even be called that—had drained away the instant Sylvia stood up.

I understand, Sylvia had said.

Rosanna wasn’t sure if that was true.

What she was sure of was the weight pressing down on her chest, heavier now than it had been before the apology ever left her mouth. It felt as though something had lodged itself beneath her ribs, tightening with every breath she took.

She hadn’t slept properly ever since her conversation with Rome. His words had echoed relentlessly in her mind, looping over and over until there was no room left for rest.

Every accusation, every restrained expression of anger, every disappointment he hadn’t said aloud—it all clung to her thoughts, refusing to loosen its grip.

She hadn’t known what to do.

Part of her had considered stepping back completely—distancing herself from Sylvia and leaving Rome to handle the consequences of her past actions on his own. After all, she had already interfered enough. Perhaps the right thing now was to stay away, to stop inserting herself where she no longer belonged.

But another restless part of her had pushed her toward Sylvia instead.

Maybe seeking closure would quiet the noise in her head. Maybe doing the right thing, even this late, would ease the guilt that had followed her for years. Maybe finally saying the words she should have said long ago would bring relief.

Instead, she felt stripped bare.

There was no forgiveness. Just honesty impossible to dismiss.

Rosanna rose slowly, smoothing the front of her coat out of habit, even though there wasn’t a single wrinkle that needed fixing.

The restaurant staff avoided her eyes as she passed, their polite smiles stiff and practiced. No one asked if she was all right.

No one needed to.

Outside, the late afternoon air felt cooler than she expected. She paused for a moment before stepping into the car, inhaling deeply as if she could steady herself through sheer will alone.

She knew Ingrid was furious with her now.

Taking Sylvia’s side—however late—had fractured something that had once seemed unbreakable. The Haristons and Ingrid’s family had been close for years. But Rosanna had pushed Ingrid away without hesitation, and she knew that kind of rejection wouldn’t be forgiven easily.

By tomorrow, everything would be chaos.

She expected that.

The drive home passed in silence.

The city blurred past the window, streets she had driven along countless times before. Everything looked familiar, yet strangely distant, as though she were seeing it all through glass. Sylvia’s words replayed in her mind without warning.

You’re here now because things changed.

Rosanna tightened her grip on her bag.

She hadn’t denied it—because denying it would have been a lie.

When the Lincolm name became known, when the truth about Sylvia’s family finally came to light, it had unsettled more than just her pride. It had shaken the hierarchy Rosanna had believed in for so long—one she had followed without question.

Power. Influence. Reputation.

These were things Rosanna understood. Things she had always measured people by, whether she admitted it or not. And suddenly, everything had shifted in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

How had she never looked into Sylvia’s background?

The surname Lincolm had been there all along. But Rosanna had been too blinded by her conviction that Sylvia didn’t belong beside Rome. Too focused on what she believed was suitable to notice what was right in front of her.

She didn’t even know why Sylvia had hidden her identity as a Lincolm. But it hardly mattered now. It was too late.

The damage extended far beyond Ingrid’s family. By mistreating Sylvia, Rosanna had also created tension with the Lincolms—a family far more powerful than the Haristons would ever be.

Perhaps she had grown old. Perhaps her judgment had dulled without her realizing it.

And yet—even if she had never learned about Sylvia’s connection to the Lincolms—Rosanna knew she would still be here now.

Because regret had a way of catching up to you once there was nothing left to distract you from it.

Lost in thought, she barely noticed when the car slowed to a stop. It was only when the driver stepped out and opened her door that she realized they had arrived home.

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

Rosanna frowned slightly as she stepped inside. The front door closed behind her with a soft click, the sound echoing faintly through the hallway. The lights were warm and bright, a complete contrast to the heaviness weighing on her mind.

"Madame," the head butler greeted, bowing slightly. "Master Rome arrived a short while ago. He’s waiting for you."

Her fingers stiffened.

"Rome?" she called out, her brow creasing despite herself.

Her unease deepened as she moved farther into the house. The living room came into view—and that was when she saw him.

Rome was sitting on the sofa.

He wasn’t looking at his phone. He wasn’t distracted by anything at all. He sat with his elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped together, his posture rigid with restraint.

Waiting.

His gaze lifted the moment she stepped fully into the room.

Cold.

Not angry. Just cold enough to make her stomach drop.

Rosanna stopped walking.

For a brief second, the urge to turn around—to pretend she hadn’t seen him yet flickered through her mind. But it vanished as quickly as it came.

"Rome," she said quietly. "I didn’t know you’d be home."

He didn’t respond immediately.

The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and carefully controlled.

"What did you say to her?"

The question landed like a blow.

Rosanna inhaled slowly. She knew exactly who he meant.

"I spoke to Sylvia." she said calmly.

"I know," Rome replied, his eyes never leaving her face. "I’m asking what you said."

There was no accusation in his tone. No raised voice.

And somehow, that made it worse.

"I apologized.." she answered after a moment.

Rome’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

"For what?" he asked.

Rosanna hesitated.

"For everything," she said finally. "For how I treated her. For what I allowed to happen."

His gaze sharpened.

"Be specific."

"Rome—"

"What did you say to her?" he repeated, firmer now.

She straightened, her shoulders tensing. "I told her I was wrong. That I judged her unfairly. That I interfered when I shouldn’t have."

"And?" Rome pressed.

"And that I was sorry."

Rome leaned back against the sofa, exhaling through his nose. His fingers flexed once before clasping together again.

"And what did she say?"

Rosanna looked away.

"She didn’t accept it."

His eyes flickered.

"Of course she didn’t." he said quietly.

The words weren’t bitter. They were factual.

"I didn’t expect her to." Rosanna replied, bristling slightly.

"But you hoped," Rome said flatly. "You shouldn’t have apologized if you thought saying the words alone would fix anything. That only makes it worse—especially if your intentions weren’t completely sincere."

She didn’t respond.

Rome stood slowly.

The movement was unhurried, but it drew her attention instantly. He crossed the room, stopping a few feet away from her—close enough that she could feel the tension radiating off him.

"You don’t get to apologize and expect that everything will suddenly be fine," he said. "You don’t get to think that saying sorry erases what happened."

"I know that," Rosanna said.

"Do you?" he asked, his voice still controlled—but edged with something sharp. "Because it feels like you walked back into her life and expected her to carry your conscience for you."

"That isn’t fair," Rosanna said tightly. "I spoke to her because I was sorry. I gathered the courage to face her. And all you see is insincerity?"

Rome let out a short, humorless laugh.

"Isn’t it?" he said. "Or maybe you apologized because you found out she’s a Lincolm—and now you’re afraid your reputation will suffer because of how cruel you were to her."

The words struck her square in the chest.

Her face went pale. "I never—"

"You shouldn’t have gone to her at all," Rome interrupted. "Not today. Not ever. You only made things worse. You always knew something was wrong—you just didn’t want to look too closely because it was easier not to."

Silence fell between them.

Rosanna’s hands trembled at her sides. She clenched them into fists, fighting to stay composed.

"I did what I thought was right," she said, her voice strained. "I thought I was protecting you. Helping you. You said you wanted to see your children again—that’s why I lowered myself and apologized."

"What?" Rome snapped. "Did you just say that like you were doing me a favor?"

Her throat tightened.

"You decided she wasn’t good enough before she ever had a chance," he continued. "You judged her worth by where she came from, not who she was."

Rosanna closed her eyes briefly. "I see that now."

"That doesn’t change what she went through." Rome said.

Her breath hitched.

She looked at him. He wasn’t furious the way she expected. He wasn’t shouting or pacing. His anger was contained, compressed into something colder and far more dangerous.

"I loved her," Rome said. "And you made her feel like loving me was a crime."

"I never meant to—"

"But you did." he cut in.

"I know you came to apologize today," he continued after a pause. "And maybe part of you meant it. But you don’t get credit for showing up after the damage is done."

Rosanna’s eyes burned. "What do you want from me?"

He studied her for a long moment.

"I want you to stop rewriting the past to make yourself feel better," he said. "And I want you to understand that some things don’t get fixed."

She nodded slowly. "I understand."

"No," he replied. "You understand intellectually. But you don’t understand what it cost her."

He stepped back, creating distance.

"She moved on," he said. "She built a life without us. And you don’t get to pull her back into that pain just because you’re ready to face it now." 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

"I didn’t go there to hurt her." Rosanna whispered.

"I know.." Rome said.

That surprised her.

"But intention doesn’t erase impact." he added.

"You asked her for closure," he said, turning away. "But the truth is—you were the one who needed it."

"Yes," she admitted quietly.

"And she doesn’t owe you that."

The room fell silent.

"Do you hate me?" Rosanna asked softly.

Rome didn’t answer right away.

"No," he said finally. "But I don’t trust you the way I used to."

That hurt more than anger ever could.

"I raised you," she said.

"And you taught me right from wrong," he replied. "That’s why I won’t pretend this didn’t happen."

"I won’t interfere anymore," she said. "Not in her life. Not in yours. But please—if things ever get better between you and Sylvia, let me apologize again."

"That will never happen," Rome said. "Even I can’t speak to her anymore. So don’t hope for it."

He turned and walked away.

"Rome..." Rosanna called.

He didn’t look back.

The house felt colder after he left.

Rosanna sank onto the sofa, exhaustion finally catching up to her. The apology she should’ve said before, now left behind a reckoning she couldn’t escape.

Some apologies came too late.

And some consequences never disappeared—no matter how sincere the regret.

From a distance, Greece watched quietly. He shook his head, then raised his phone.

"Contact someone," he said calmly. "Things are getting boring. So let’s shake everything up."

Then a slow smirk curved his lips.