My name is Rose. Nine years ago, I was dying from congenital heart disease when Leonard saved my life. My parents' car accident took everything from me, and made this handsome, austere heart surgeon my godfather.
From age 12 to 21, I watched him grow from a young doctor into Boston's youngest department chief. I also grew from a little girl who needed protection into a woman who made his gaze dart away.
I fell hopelessly in love with the man I should never love.
On that night when I was 19, I gathered all my courage to confess: "Leonard, I want to be your woman, not your goddaughter anymore."
But he coldly rejected me: "Enough, Rose. You're just my friend's daughter. My feelings for you are purely responsibility. If you're truly grateful that I saved you, please forget these ridiculous fantasies."
Yet on that drunken night, when he thought I was someone else... why was his kiss so passionate? Why did he murmur my name in the heat of passion?
