CHAPTER 170: AN UNEXPECTED MEETING

Back inside the room where Abigail was with Roman...

"What a darling wife you have," Abigail murmured, her lips curling into a slow, poisonous smirk.

Her ear was pressed against the thick wooden door, listening with quiet amusement to the fading sound of footsteps outside.

The faint echo of Julie’s voice from the hall made her grin widen. "Your wife is really stupid," she whispered, a sharp laugh slipping from her throat.

"I can’t believe she still follows you around like a lost puppy—such a handsome man like you, and she really thinks she can keep you all to herself."

She turned away from the door and sauntered toward the bed where Roman lay, unconscious.

The once-powerful man now lay motionless, his broad frame limp against the sheets she had carefully arranged beneath him.

His dark hair fell across his forehead, and his expression—usually composed and intimidating—was now slack, unguarded.

Abigail’s eyes roamed over him greedily. There was something intoxicating about seeing him like this—vulnerable, silent, utterly within her reach.

She reached out her hand, letting her fingertips trail down the air just above his chest, not quite touching yet, savoring the moment.

"Had she ever thought," Abigail said softly, almost tenderly, "that there are women like me out there?"

Her voice hardened on the last words, her smirk deepening. "Women who aren’t afraid to take what they want?"

The room was dim, lit only by the pale glow of the chandelier overhead. The air was heavy—sweet and sharp from the lingering mist of the chemical she’d sprayed earlier.

It carried a faint metallic tang, mixed with the warmth of Roman’s cologne and the faint floral scent from her perfume.

It was a suffocating combination, almost intimate in its toxicity.

Abigail moved closer, her heels clicking softly on the floor until she stood beside the bed.

She looked down at him—at the man who had once loved her, the man who now despised her—and her expression twisted between affection and madness.

"So now," she whispered, lowering her face near his, "let’s start... even before you get up."

Her breath brushed against his cheek as she leaned closer, her tone thick with desire and something darker.

"So that when you wake, when the real effect starts," she purred, "it will be quick, my beautiful, stubborn man."

She paused, her hand hovering just above his chest, trembling slightly—not from fear, but anticipation.

"You know, Roman," she continued, her voice turning bitter, "you’ve made me wait too long. All this time pretending I’m nothing to you."

" Acting as if what we had never existed. But I remember... every touch, every word. And I’m not going to let you throw that away for her."

Abigail’s eyes glistened—not from sadness, but from the intensity of her obsession.

Her pupils dilated as she brushed her hair behind her ear and let out a shaky breath.

"I’m the only one who deserves you," she hissed softly. "The only one who understands you. The only one who should carry your child."

Her words echoed eerily in the quiet room. She leaned closer still, her lips almost touching his ear.

"If not me," she whispered, her tone suddenly sharp and venomous, "then there will be no one. Ever."

Abigail straightened and gave a slow, satisfied smile. "You belong to me, Roman Thompson," she said, her voice trembling with a twisted kind of triumph.

She climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight.

The silk sheets rustled softly beneath her as she positioned herself beside him.

For a moment, she simply stared—her gaze feverish, her expression filled with possessive hunger and delusion.

Outside, the mansion was silent—too silent. The air felt tense, as if even the walls could sense what was about to unfold.

And there, in that cold, perfumed room, Abigail leaned closer to Roman’s still body, her shadow falling over him like a dark omen.

The soft echo of their footsteps filled the long corridor, each step carrying a quiet urgency that neither Julie nor Azazel voiced aloud.

The chandeliers overhead glowed like frozen stars, their light stretching along the marble floor.

Julie’s hands tightened slightly at her sides, her chest rising and falling with restrained worry.

"Calm down, sis," Azazel said beside her, his tone gentle yet laced with alertness. "Lisa’s probably entertaining the guests. Roman might be there already."

Julie nodded faintly but couldn’t shake the tight knot forming in her stomach.

Something about the silence of the hallway unsettled her — the way it seemed too still, too perfect, as though it was holding its breath.

They descended the grand staircase together, the golden railing cool beneath Julie’s fingers.

Below, faint music drifted in — soft, instrumental, elegant — the kind that accompanied the murmuring of high-class conversation.

The scent of wine, perfume, and polished wood mixed in the air.

As soon as they turned toward the large hall, the murmur of voices grew louder.

The great ballroom shimmered with light and chatter — guests dressed in silks and tuxedos moving gracefully beneath the massive crystal chandelier. At the center stood Lisa, radiant in deep sapphire silk, her poise commanding every eye.

Beside her stood Denovan, his posture as straight and stately as ever, speaking to a group of family acquaintances.

Julie exhaled in relief at the sight of them — until she caught a glimpse of someone else.

A soft laugh — bright and familiar — floated from Lisa’s side. Julie turned, her eyes widening slightly when she saw a young woman standing beside her, speaking shyly but confidently.

The girl’s golden-brown hair framed her delicate face, and her emerald dress shimmered beneath the light like rippling water.

It was Ava.

Julie blinked in surprise. "Ava?"

The sound of her voice drew attention. Lisa turned at once, her face lighting up in recognition and welcome.

Denovan paused mid-conversation, while Ava’s expression shifted — first startled, then blooming into a smile as her eyes found Julie’s.

"Julie!" Ava exclaimed, her voice warm and bubbling with excitement. "Oh, thank goodness — I thought I wouldn’t see you tonight!"

Julie’s lips parted in disbelief as Azazel beside her grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"So, this is what you were waiting for outside," Julie said under her breath, her voice laced with a teasing note, though her surprise hadn’t faded.

Azazel chuckled nervously. "Well... I might’ve mentioned the party to someone," he said, glancing toward Ava, who was now walking toward them, her gown sweeping lightly against the floor.

Lisa’s smile deepened as she approached, her expression calm but knowing.

"Julie, dear, I see you’ve met my unexpected guest," she said, eyes flicking between Azazel and Ava with faint amusement.

"Azazel seemed rather determined that she attend tonight."

Denovan gave a low hum of acknowledgment. "At least the boy shows good taste," he said dryly, though there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Ava laughed softly, bowing her head with a blush. "It was very sudden, ma’am. I didn’t even expect to be welcomed like this."

Julie smiled now, her earlier tension easing, warmth blooming in her chest as she reached forward to hug Ava briefly.

"I can’t believe you’re here," she said softly. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," Ava replied, her voice a little breathless.

"You too — I mean, you look absolutely stunning, Julie. Everyone’s been talking about you."

Julie’s cheeks warmed faintly, but before she could respond, Lisa gently touched her arm, her expression subtly shifting to something more observant.

"You came looking for me. Is everything all right?"

Julie hesitated for a heartbeat, glancing briefly at Azazel before turning back to Lisa.

"Roman said he was coming to inform you about our arrival... but it’s been a while now, and he hasn’t returned."

Lisa’s brows knitted softly, her composure unshaken but her eyes sharpening with quiet concern.

Denovan’s gaze followed Julie’s direction, thoughtful and stern.

"I see," Lisa murmured. "He wouldn’t disappear without reason. But let’s not assume anything yet."

She turned to one of the nearby attendants. "Go check upstairs — the private wings. Discreetly," she ordered in her calm, regal tone.

As the attendant hurried off, the soft hum of the party resumed around them, but Julie’s heart didn’t calm.

Her gaze lingered toward the staircase — something in her still felt off, like the stillness before a storm.

Beside her, Azazel stood straighter, his playful smile fading into a more serious expression.

Ava, sensing the shift, reached out lightly to touch his arm.

Lisa exhaled softly, her tone quiet but resolute. "We’ll find him," she said, looking at Julie with quiet strength. "I promise you, my dear — nothing will happen to Roman in this house."

Julie nodded slowly, though unease still pressed at her chest.

And somewhere above them, unseen, the faint creak of a door echoed through the mansion’s dim upper halls.

Author’s Note — "The Fracture Before the Flame"

Sometimes, a story doesn’t just move forward through grand confessions or explosive confrontations—it moves quietly, through tension that hums beneath the surface. This Chapter is one of those quiet storms.

Julie’s worry may seem small at first—a wife waiting for her husband, tired eyes fighting sleep—but beneath it is a current of fear, intuition, and love.

It’s in moments like these that the human heart reveals its strength. The way she senses something is wrong before she knows what it is reminds us that real connection goes beyond words or logic.

It’s an unspoken bond—a thread that tugs the soul awake when danger hovers nearby.

Azazel’s presence here isn’t just to move the plot; he represents something grounding and loyal, a silent protector in the chaos that’s about to unfold.

Even in his youth, his instinct to protect Julie reflects how strong bonds can form not only through blood, but through trust, shared pain, and empathy.

And then there’s Abigail. Her reappearance at this point in the story isn’t accidental.

Betrayal often comes disguised in affection, and sometimes, the people who once claimed to love us become the sharpest blades in our lives.

Abigail’s obsession and deceit are not simply born from hatred—they’re born from a place of twisted desire and ego. She doesn’t love Roman; she wants to possess him, to control what she couldn’t have before.

It’s a mirror of how power and desperation often blur into something poisonous.

Through these scenes, I want readers to reflect on one painful truth: evil rarely shouts. It whispers.

It hides behind familiar smiles. It enters softly, through open doors and misplaced trust.

But even in darkness, there’s always a spark—the courage of someone like Julie, who refuses to ignore her instincts.

Her decision to search for Roman isn’t only an act of love; it’s an act of defiance against the unknown.

She represents the side of love that doesn’t just wait to be protected—it rises, questions, and moves toward truth, no matter how frightening it may be.

As the story deepens, remember that every silence holds meaning. Every look, every hesitation, and every heartbeat counts.

We are entering a Chapter where fate begins to shift, and characters will be tested in ways that will shape their future forever.

To all my readers—thank you for walking with Julie and Roman through this storm.

The coming Chapters will be raw, emotional, and painfully revealing, but every piece of it will bring them closer to who they are meant to be.

Keep reading with an open heart, because sometimes, the darkest scenes hide the beginnings of light.