Roman's knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel. The tires of his car screeched against the pavement as he sped toward the villa, tension coiling inside him.
Memories of her—a haunting image—flashed vividly before his eyes. The moment Carol had collapsed on the field played on a loop in his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was still tethered to her, Harriett, the woman who had betrayed him, yet once held his heart completely. It was an ache he thought he had buried beneath the weight of time, but it lingered, refusing to be forgotten.
Why was he confused? They were two different people. Did he love Harriett that much that he sees her in another person?
When Carol had crumpled to the ground, a wave of panic surged through him, quickening his breath and clouding his thoughts.
"She's looks dead," Ky's grim warning echoed in his mind like an ominous bell tolling. In the cacophony of the crowd's gasps and clicks of cameras, Roman had knelt beside her, heart racing as he took in the sight of her swollen face, the blood trickling from her broken nose. His fingers felt for her pulse—it was a weak flutter, but there was still life. With urgency, he leaned close, administering CPR, feeling the fragile thread of hope as her lungs filled with air once more. Her eyelids fluttered but remained heavy, a struggle to awaken from the depths of unconsciousness. He had swept her into his arms, panic lending strength to his movements as he rushed toward the infirmary.
Yet here he was, wrestling with the past as he parked in the familiar lot of his home. The scent of the villa—sandalwood and memories—wrapped around him as he stepped out of the car. But just as he was about to cross the threshold, he was met by Marie, their long-serving housekeeper, her usual crisp uniform replaced by casual attire that draped heavily around her. A single piece of luggage sat beside her, the weight of it echoing the heavy emotions in her eyes.
Roman's gaze shifted from the suitcase to her tear-filled eyes, the sadness palpable in the air. "I'm sorry, Rome," she whispered, her voice shaking with barely restrained sorrow.
"I can't keep working here," she continued with a tremor in her voice unveiling the gravity of her situation. "Tory needs me at home. She's sick… she's dying." The words hung in the air, a stark confession that shattered the brief moment of safety. Marie had spent years saving for her daughter's treatment, each penny a testament to her hope, but now it felt as if fate was pulling that hope away.
"I understand," he replied, warmth in his tone as his heart ached for her plight. "If you need anything at all, just call. Day or night," he promised, concern etched deeply in his features.
"Oh God," she breathed, tears spilling over as she cast her luggage aside and stumbled into his embrace. Her fingers wove through his hair in a gesture of desperate gratitude and sorrow. "I don't know what I would have done without you. Thank you, Roman, and I'm so sorry I couldn't keep my promise to your mother," she sobbed, the weight of her words rendering him momentarily speechless.
"She'll understand," he murmured, the words tumbling from his lips as he pulled back slightly to gaze at her. "I'll visit when I can," he added, but the sincerity of his promise hung between them like a fragile thread.
"You don't have to," she managed a small, bittersweet laugh through her tears. "I know how busy you are. I don't want to impose."
"It's what I should do," he insisted, his gaze steady, but a wave of concern washed over him as he noticed her hand ruffling his hair with a tenderness that felt foreign yet comforting.
"Always be a good boy, Roman. We'll meet again," she smiled, a flicker of hope breaking through the sorrow as she turned to gather her suitcase, casting one last longing glance at the villa. Memories of laughter and warmth crowded her thoughts, but duty called her away.
After she'd departed, Roman stepped inside, the door creaking softly as he entered the familiar space. The scent of burning wood warmed the air, and he descended the staircase, his eyes landing on Harper. She sat on the couch, her brow furrowed, a book resting forgotten in her lap as flames flickered in the hearth. Just then, Julian emerged from the dining room, his expression heavy with a sigh.
"Marie's gone," he said, the weight of the news palpable.
"Yeah, I saw her outside before coming in," Roman replied, the frown deepening on his face as he sank into the couch beside Harper. The girl turned to look at him, her eyes, red-rimmed and glistening, tugged at his heart. Had she been crying?
"What's wrong?" he asked gently, his gaze penetrating. "If it's about Marie, just know this is a phase in our lives. It will pass."
"No, it's not just that." Harper shook her head vehemently, her brow furrowing with outrage. "I think someone's about to take my place in class!" Anger surged through her, clear in her voice as she recounted the arrival of Rhudeus, the new boy threatening her position as the top student.
Roman leaned back against the couch, curiosity piquing his interest. "Who might that be?"
"Rhudeus!" she spat, her fury bubbling just beneath the surface. She thought he was another dufus in the class. She had always been the best, and now this newcomer was vying for her title, igniting a fierce determination to retain her rank. But the classes were proving more challenging, leaving her baffled and unwilling to relent.
The atmosphere at school had shifted dramatically with the arrival of some new teachers, leaving Harper feeling increasingly frustrated. The fresh face at the front of the classroom struggled to convey the concepts in a way that resonated with her, and understanding evaded her like a shadow. Meanwhile, Rhudeus seemed to glide effortlessly through math and every other subject, his natural talent a stark contrast to her struggles. But pride held Harper back; she couldn't bring herself to ask him for help. Instead, she preferred the idea of hiring a tutor to guide her at home.
"Sounds like a tough man," Julian remarked with a chuckle, striding towards the cozy couch and settling into a spot across from his siblings. The fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the room and enhancing the warmth of the space.
"I think with a bit more effort, you'll beat him. No one can stop you, Harper," Roman encouraged his words igniting a spark of determination within her. A smile tugged at her lips as she absorbed his support, bolstering her resolve to hit the books even harder.
Breaking the brief silence, Julian cast a glance at Roman, his brow slightly furrowed in concern. "Rome, we're going to need someone in the house after Marie leaves. I can handle things pretty well, and you can too. But Harper needs someone to look out for her," he said, worry creeping into his voice as he considered their little sister's future alone at home after school. With both of them occupied by tight schedules, it was a daunting thought.
"I think we should find someone who can manage the house, and maybe even help Harper with her studies since it seems Rhudeus is crossing a line," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Harper nodded eagerly, the prospect of extra help bringing her renewed hope. Roman acknowledged the idea with a brief nod, and soon enough, it was time for them to disperse from the warmth of the living room.
"Goodnight," Julian called out as he excused himself, his footsteps fading away down the hallway, the sound of his door gently clicking shut echoed in the quiet house.
Harper lingered for a moment, poring over her textbook until exhaustion tugged at her eyelids. When she glanced over at Roman, she found him lost in thought, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames. Leaning over, she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead; the soft gesture pulled him from his reverie.
A tender smile graced his face. "Goodnight, Harper," he murmured warmly. With a sense of comfort, she ascended the staircase, disappearing into her room like a wisp of smoke.
Alone in the hall, Roman remained, his eyes entranced by the fire's mesmerizing dance. Time seemed to stretch as he stared into the flickering embers until a sudden vision crashed into his mind. He saw himself, adorned with a magnificent crown made of radiating red rubies, an extravagant robe cascading down his back, and a dark, flowing cape enveloping him as he approached a colossal dragon. The creature's sizzling breath echoed ominously within the shadows of the vast cave, and he reached out, stroking its rough head, recognizing his inner beast.
"Your majesty," a voice called from the depths of the fire. His head turned sharply, his crimson eyes narrowing at the figure that had spoken. The person immediately bowed their head, shivering under the weight of his piercing gaze.
"What did the prophetess say?" he demanded, his voice low and commanding.
"That she's alive, and doom is bound to befall the kingdom," came the uneasy reply.
The king chuckled darkly, not believing that his fate(The most powerful fire-breathing dragon) lies in the hands of a woman. It was fine, as long as there was nothing between him and that woman, the prophecy would never come to pass.