The Mafia Prince And His Reincarnated Nemesis Chapter 83: Before Her Marriage! 2

A few years back...

At the famous art studio where Rose attended, under a fake identity, just to improve her art style. She beca famous on her first day. Her beauty, charm, blue eyes and long blonde hair were able to capture the hearts of everyone in class.

"You... You can have a seat, Rose. Nice to et you, I’m your teacher, just call Art" he said, stretching his hand. Rose accepted the hand with a smile. She sat on an empty chair that was close to Catherine. They exchanged glances briefly before Catherine looked away.

"Alright! Let’s stop staring at our new student and begin our class"

The day went on as normal, but after the first class, everyone flooded to her table, asking different questions.

"Is your hair real? It’s not a wig?"

"How do you keep your skin so smooth?"

"Did you do any face surgery?"

"Who is your benefactor? Is he really rich?"

"Tell us! Where are you from?"

"I’m sorry, I can’t tell you. It’s a secret" she smiled at them. They were supposed to be disappointed by that, but her smile was able to recapture their heart, so they stopped asking her questions.

Things went on as usual in the academy. But Catherine, who used to be at the top of the whole class, was suddenly dragged down by the newcor.

Everyone was happy for her, but Catherine wasn’t. She hated the way her brother praised her. Her painting looked so much better than Catherine’s. Everyone wanted to be close to her.

"I’m sure she’s a fake. Even her smile is fake"

"What do you think? Let’s ss her up a bit"

"What if we get caught?"

"All we need to do is bla it on soone else"

She heard the ladies talking behind her. Catherine understood that she wasn’t the only one who hated Rose. The ladies behind her weren’t only jealous because of her beautiful painting, but also because of the way the teacher praised her. His hand was on her shoulder with a warm smile on his face.

He never smiled with any of his students that way. But, whenever he was with Rose, it was different.

Catherine turned back to the three ladies that were behind her.

"I heard your plan..."

They shrieked in fear, but she cald them.

"Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Let’s go with what you say. Let’s ruin her and bla it on soone else," she said, and they all agreed to work together.

.

Within a week, Rose felt uncomfortable in school. Everyone kept staring at her, talking about her behind her back. Her desk was filled with so many writings of people cursing at her and calling her nas.

Slut. Fake face. Bitch. Die. Go away. Leave our school. Pretender.

The anonymous group chat had ntions of her na several tis. A few people even claid that they’ve slept with her many tis and comnted how she’s good in bed.

She wasn’t fazed by their words and comnts. After all, she hasn’t slept with anyone in her life. Her father won’t even let her be in any relationship. She expected sothing like this to happen since it occurred while she was in high school.

A lot of people hated her because of how pretty she was. They were even jealous of her rich background. Her father didn’t let her attend college since she was going to get married anyway.

"Are you alright, Rose?" She heard a voice behind her and soone touching her shoulder. She looked behind and saw it was the art teacher.

"I’m fine, sir", she replied.

"Are you sure about that? You seem to have been lost in thoughts. The class ended ten minutes ago, but you’re still here"

"Oh my... I’m sorry" She tried to stand up but she missed a step and fell into his arms.

"Rose, is sothing really bothering you? You can tell " he said, gently sitting her on the chair. She looked around and lowered her head.

"I really can’t tell you. But, I’ll tell you one day. Please, believe " she said.

"I trust you with my heart, Rose," he said, touching her cheek.

"Teacher..."

"Call Art when we’re alone" he spoke softly.

Her cheek flushed red as she bit her finger innocently.

"....Art"

"Rose" he also called her na.

They weren’t aware when their faces got closer and their lips touched. They kissed for a few seconds before Rose realised what she was doing.

With an embarrassed look on her face, she grabbed her bag and left the class.

As soon as she left, Catherine entered.

"How do you feel after you’ve finally kissed her?"

"You saw everything?" He asked.

"Of course. I even have everything recorded. I’m going to spread it tomorrow"

"Go ahead. It’ll be good if everyone knows that she belongs to " he smirked.

"Psycho" she walked away.

.

The next morning, pictures of Rose kissing the art teacher circulated the whole school and her bullying continued.

Art pretended to be on her side, consoling her each ti she was sad. He always used her sadness as an excuse to kiss her and touch her.

It escalated to the point that he nearly had his way with her in class, but she slapped him before running away.

She didn’t know why she did that, but she just couldn’t let soone touch her. She grew up without dating any man. Her art teacher was the one who stole her first kiss.

’If he’s not going to marry , there’s no need for him to touch ’

She thought to herself and went ho.

....

As she sneaked into the house, she saw her father in the living room. He had a huge smile on his face which was rare.

"My beautiful daughter is back ho," he said, walking to the door to hug her. He pulled his ear close to her ear and with an angry voice, he whispered...

"What the hell are you wearing?"

"I’m sorry father. I just went for a walk" she lied.

He pulled back and walked her to the living room, where a man was waiting there silently. He folded his legs as he elegantly sipped from the cup of coffee offered to him.

"This is my daughter, Roselle," he said to the man and turned to his daughter.

"Roselle, this is your future husband"

Her heart shattered into a million pieces when she heard that.

’What will happen to my art class when I get married?’

’What about Art?’

’Will I be able to see him again?’

’Who is this man? My husband?’

She had so many things going on in her head that she fainted.