a/n: This first part is going to be a bit confusing, but everything will become clearer as the story goes on. I hope you enjoy this one! It's filled with much more angst than the other one I'm working on!

"I'm coming," Rose muttered as she stumbled her way to the front door of her Los Angeles apartment. She'd stayed out clubbing with Lissa last night, so whoever was at her front door at this ungodly hour—she squinted as she looked at the clock. 11 am. Well, not so ungodly, she corrected herself. Still…whoever it was better have a damn good reason for waking her up.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and pulled the front door open. She looked the portly gentlemen in the expensive suit up and down. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Rose Hathaway?"

"Who wants to know?" she shot back.

"I'm your father's attorney," he stated.

"Awww, hell," Rose practically growled, wide awake at the mention of the man who'd been absent for most of her life. "What does he want to do now? Sue me for being a shitty daughter?"

"No, ma'am. It's hard to sue someone from the grave," he said wryly. "We've left you several messages, but you haven't returned our calls. You left us with no other alternative. We need to—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Rose said, holding up a hand. "From the what? Did my…is my…is my father dead?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," the lawyer said. "I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Newsflash, buddy. You can't lose something you never had."

"We need to read his will," the man continued. "But your father insisted that you be there for it."

"Look, I'm really not interested in anything my father may have left me," she informed him as she began to shut the door.

"Ms. Hathaway—"

"Ms. Hathaway is my mother," she said shortly. "I'm Rose. And I don't have a father. I never have," she said softly before slamming the door in the man's face.

Rose sighed as she sagged against the closed door. So the bastard had kicked the bucket.

"So much for only the good dying young," she muttered as she pushed away from the door and headed for the fridge. She needed hangover food.

"I don't understand this stupid letter, Mom," Rose hissed into the receiver. She looked down at the white sheet of paper in her hands and read the typed words again. I'm so very sorry, Rose. If I could take it back, I would. But I can't. And I've stolen the one thing from you that should've been most precious. Forgive me. "Wha—is he talking about my childhood?" she asked in confusion.

"No," her mother said weakly.

"Then…what is he talking about?" Rose asked impatiently. "You know—this is just like dad to have the last word! And I can't even question him about it."

"Rose, listen very carefully to me. We...thought we were doing the right thing. We…we were doing the only thing we knew to do to help you."

"I don't...Mom, I still don't understand. You're talking in circles!"

"You had an affair with your teacher, Rose," her mother said. "We wanted you to have a clean break from him."

Her heart pricked at the thought of the only man she'd ever loved. "Mom—"

"Your baby, Rose," her mother interrupted.

Rose stiffened at the reminder of the daughter she'd given birth to almost four years ago. "Mom, I told you not to ever bring her up again," she warned angrily.

"She didn't die, Rose," her mother whispered.

"Wha—what in the hell are you talking about?" Rose asked harshly. "Of course she died! She never even cried, Mom! She never opened her eyes!"

She heard her mother sigh on the other end of the phone.

"Rose, the baby's heart stopped for just a moment after she was born, but after the midwife left the room with her, she was able to restart it by massaging it."

"Mom—wha—what are you saying? Are you saying my baby's alive?"

"Yes, Rose," her mother admitted. "Your daughter's alive."

Rose's body began shuddering with sobs as the dropped the phone to the floor.