Chapter 3 - The Ghost of the Past
The transaction was completed in absolute, suffocating silence. The sales associate’s hands trembled so violently she could barely process the card, but within thirty seconds, the rhodium cufflinks were wrapped in black tissue paper and placed inside a velvet-lined bag with the store's gold seal.
Roman took the bag, handing it to Arthur without a word. Then he turned to Sadi, his cold demeanor melting away into something soft and protective. He took her hand, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. “Can you walk, my love?”
“I’m fine, Roman,” she said quietly, though a sharp wince betrayed her as she took a step toward the door. Her calf was throbbing heavily where Trevor’s shoe had struck her.
Before she could take another step, Roman swept her into his arms, lifting her effortlessly against his chest. Sadi instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder, smelling the rich scents of cedarwood, amber, and rain that were uniquely his.
Roman looked down at Trevor one last time. Trevor was still collapsed on his knees, clutching his chest, weeping quietly as his life, career, and future collapsed around him in real-time. Chloe had backed away, pulling her phone out to call someone, but Viktor gently snatched the device from her hand, dropping it into a glass of champagne on a nearby display table.
“If I ever see your face again,” Roman said to Trevor, his voice slicing through the quiet store, “you will not leave the room on your feet. Do you understand me?”
Trevor didn't answer; he simply nodded frantically, pressing his forehead against the cold marble floor in utter defeat.
Roman turned and carried Sadi out of the boutique. Arthur and Viktor cleared a path through the crowded Galleria, their intimidating presence parting the gathering onlookers like the Red Sea. They exited through the VIP private doors where a fleet of three blacked-out armored SUVs sat idling at the curb.
The rear door of the center vehicle opened automatically. Roman slid inside, keeping Sadi comfortably in his lap as the heavy door slammed shut, sealing out the noise of the outside world. The interior was lined with soft leather, tinted windows, and illuminated by warm ambient lighting.
The convoy pulled away from the curb smoothly. Sadi rested her head against Roman’s chest, listening to the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart. For three years, she had lived in constant fear—fear of the rent being due, fear of the cold, fear of being vulnerable again after Trevor had stripped away her dignity. But in Roman’s arms, wrapped in his absolute power, she felt a profound, terrifying sense of safety.
“Show me your leg,” Roman commanded softly.
Sadi shifted, pulling up the leg of her loose denim jeans. A nasty, purplish-red bruise was already blooming across her calf, right where Trevor’s dress shoe had struck her bone.
Roman’s eyes darkened as his fingers lightly traced the edge of the bruised skin. He did not press down, treating her as if she were made of fragile porcelain. Sadi could feel the tension radiating through his massive body, the lethal rage vibrating just beneath his calm exterior.
“He will pay for every millimeter of this,” Roman whispered, his lips brushing against her forehead.
“Roman, it’s fine,” Sadi murmured, looking up into his ice-blue eyes. “You destroyed his life in five minutes. He lost his job, his reputation, and his fiancée. That’s enough.”
“It is not enough,” Roman corrected her coldly. “A man who lays a hand on what is mine does not get to walk away with just a lost career. He bruised your flesh, Sadi. He made you bleed three years ago, and he tried to break you again today.” He paused, taking her face in his hands, his thumbs gently sweeping over her cheekbones. “I promised you the day I put this ring on your finger that no one in this world would ever make you feel small again.”
Sadi looked down at the simple platinum band on her left ring finger. It matched his. Six months ago, she had been working as a night-shift florist in a quiet corner of the city when Roman Vance walked into her shop at 2:00 AM, bleeding from a gunshot wound to his side after an ambush. She hadn't known who he was. She hadn't cared about his power or his money. She had simply stitched his wound with a sewing kit, made him a cup of cheap tea, and kept him hidden until his men arrived.
Roman had looked at her that night not like a king looking at a peasant, but like a dying man who had finally found his home. Within three months, they were married in a private chapel on a cliff overlooking the ocean.
“I was scared for a second,” Sadi confessed, her voice dropping to a low whisper as the city lights blurred past the tinted windows. “Not of him... but of myself. When I saw him standing there, for a split second, I felt like the girl in the diner again. I felt weak.”
“You are not weak,” Roman said firmly, kissing her knuckles. “You survived him. You survived the cold, the hunger, and the loneliness. You are the strongest person in my world, Sadi. He is nothing but dust on your shoe.”
The SUV pulled up to the security gates of the Vance Estate—a massive, fortified manor situated on the highest hill overlooking the city. The heavy iron gates swung open, allowing the convoy to roll up the long, winding cobblestone driveway lined with oak trees.
As the car came to a complete stop outside the main entrance, Arthur opened Roman’s door. Roman carried Sadi out of the car and into the grand foyer, where the house physician, Dr. Evans, was already waiting with a medical kit, alerted by Arthur during the drive.
“Set her on the sofa, Mr. Vance,” Dr. Evans said respectfully.
Roman placed Sadi gently on the plush leather couch in the study, never letting go of her hand as the doctor examined her leg.
“It’s a deep tissue contusion,” Dr. Evans reported after a quick assessment, applying a cold thermal compress to the bruise. “No bone fracture, thankfully. Rest, ice, and elevation for the next forty-eight hours. She will be fine.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Sadi said softly.
Dr. Evans packed his kit, bowed slightly to Roman, and exited the room, closing the heavy mahogany doors behind him.
Once they were alone, Roman sat beside her on the sofa, pulling her close into his chest. “I have to leave for an hour,” he murmured against her hair. “There are details regarding your ex-fiancé that require my direct attention.”
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Sadi pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. “Roman... promise me you won't kill him.”
Roman’s face was an unreadable mask. “Death is an mercy, Sadi. I am not going to kill him. I am going to make sure he lives a very long, very conscious life remembering exactly what he did to you.”
