Jeila thomas tries to erase every trace of the accident. The damaged car was already hidden, the evidence wiped clean. Yet, thoughts plagued her mind.
Why is Adrian so intent on reopening the case? she wondered. Who is that woman, and why does she mean so much to him?
Unable to calm her nerves, Jayla drove straight to his office. But when she arrived, the secretary informed her that Mr. Adrian had left on urgent personal matters.
"Urgent matters?" she muttered under her breath. "What could possibly be more important than work to Adrian?"
Could he be with her again—that mysterious girl from the accident? Could she have survived? The thought made her chest tighten.
Before she could leave, two security guards appeared at the entrance.
"Ms. Thomas," one said formally, "we've been instructed by Mr. Adrian to escort you out."
The second guard added, "We've been given strict orders not to let you near Mr. Adrian or the company again, or we'll lose our jobs."
"What?" Jayla's voice trembled in disbelief. "He ordered what?"
Moments later, she was outside, seething with rage. She climbed into her car and sped off toward the Roman mansion.
From a distance, Adrian's assistant, Mr. Isaac Lewis, caught a glimpse of her pulling out of the company parking lot.
"Strange," he murmured. "Didn't she drive a Mercedes before? When did she get a Ferrari?"
He frowned, suspicion flickering in his eyes, then shook his head and returned to work.
Meanwhile, Jeila Thomas—burning with anger and pride—rehearsed her next move as she approached the mansion's gates.
"He threw me out of his office. Fine," she whispered. "Let's see the show I'll put on next."
Moments later, she splashed water on herself, rubbed her eyes until they were red, and stormed toward Mrs. Pamela Roman—Adrian's mother—tears streaming dramatically down her cheeks.
"Jayla! What happened to you?" Pamela gasped, rushing toward her. "Why are your clothes soaked? Why are you crying?"
Oh, Mrs. Roman," Jayla sobbed. "Adrian ordered the guards to pour water on me and drag me out of his company—and all I did was bring him lunch!"
Pamela's eyes flared with shock and anger. "How dare he? I'll have a word with him once he's back!"
Just then, Mrs. Emery—Adrian's grandmother—entered the hall. Her sharp gaze swept over Jayla from head to toe.
"Tell me," Mrs. Emery said coolly, "did my grandson ever ask you to feed him?"
"Mother," Pamela said quickly, "please don't speak to her like that. Jayla only worries for Adrian's health. She loves him. She'll be his wife someday, after all."
Mrs. Emery scoffed. "We'll see what happens then. Next time, he might pour acid instead of water. I can see the lies in your eyes, girl."
Jayla forced a trembling smile, but inside her thoughts were venomous. You old hag. Once I marry Adrian, you'll see who really runs this house.
But first, she needed to know where Adrian had gone. She called Corey, her trusted private investigator.
"I want everything on Adrian Roman—his movements, his schedule, everything," she said sharply.
"You mean the heir of the Roman Empire?" Corey asked.
"Yes, that one. Every single detail. I'll pay you double."
Hours later, Corey called back. "He's been seen heading to the old Roman villa."
"The old Roman villa?" Jayla whispered. "That place was abandoned years ago. What could he possibly be doing there?"
Her mind raced. "Thank you, Corey. I'll transfer the money immediately." She hung up and clenched the steering wheel. "What could he be hiding, Adrian Roman? Whatever it is, I'll find out."
Jayla drove down the gravel road and stopped abruptly. The old Roman villa was anything but abandoned. Guards lined the perimeter, cameras traced every angle, and a low electric gate hummed like a sleeping beast.
Jayla's mouth went dry. Why would an old villa like this be so well maintained and heavily guarded? she wondered. What is he hiding inside?
She rolled down her car window and slid a bribe across to the nearest guard.
"Tell him Jayla Thomas is here. I need to see Adrian," she said, forcing her voice to remain calm.
The guard glanced at the money, then back at her with a flat, professional refusal. "No, madam. We can't accept that. We'd lose our jobs—or worse."
Her first attempt failed. Another guard shook his head the same way.
As she watched a maid walk by carrying a tray, her confidence flickered back to life. Someone's inside, she thought. But who?
Before she could try another trick, a figure emerged from the shadow of the gatehouse. Adrian walked up the path with the cold certainty of a man used to getting his way.
He didn't hesitate. He crossed the distance and seized Jayla by the arm, gripping her hair tightly enough to make her gasp. His voice was low, dangerous.
"How dare you come here?" he hissed. "Leave now. If you come back, I'll be your worst nightmare. I'll expose how you cheated on me with my servants. I won't just ruin your hair, Jayla—I'll destroy your reputation and make sure the Roman Corporation falls with you."
His words cut like ice. Jayla, terrified, stumbled backward to her car and sped off, her heart pounding.
When she was gone, Adrian turned to his assistant, Isaac Lewis. "Track her. Follow her every move. I want to know who she talks to and where she goes."
Isaac bowed. "Yes, sir."
Morning sunlight spilled through the wide windows of the Lucas mansion, painting the room gold. Rose stood before the mirror, fastening her hair neatly into a ponytail. A few loose strands framed her face, softening her determined expression. She clipped in the last pin, dabbed on lip gloss, and misted herself lightly with lavender perfume. The room filled with calm fragrance as a new day began
She picked up her files from the bed and her bag from the table. Just as she turned, Nanny Pat entered with her usual calm smile.
"You look beautiful today, Rose," she said fondly. "Are you ready to head out for work, Miss Rose?"
Rose smiled gently. "Yes, Nanny Pat. The uphill project has been on hold for a month because of me. If Mr. Richard cancels the contract, the lucas company might be blacklisted, and that would make things very difficult for us."
Nanny Pat's expression softened. "You've always been responsible, my lady. Just be careful."
"All right. I will," Rose answered, kissing Nanny Pat goodbye before stepping out the door. Once she was gone, Nanny Pat murmured to herself, "Such a lovely girl. May she find someone who truly loves and cherishes her someday."
At Dark Lord Corporation headquarters, the office hummed with quiet efficiency. The phone on Mr. Richard's desk rang and he answered promptly.
"Sir, Miss Lucas wishes to see you," the security officer reported.
"Which Miss Lucas?" he asked.
"Miss Rose Lucas, sir."
There was a short pause. Then his voice softened. "Let her in."
Moments later came a knock at the door. Mr. Richard's chair faced the large window overlooking the city; he turned, and his sharp eyes met the sight of Rose in the doorway, graceful and composed.
"Good morning, Mr. Richard," Rose greeted, her voice calm and melodic. "I know this delay reflects poorly on me. I want to personally apologize and ask that you please resume the contract with Lucas Holding."
Mr. Richard paused, then asked, "How's your leg? I heard you had an accident after the proposal meeting. You need to be more careful."
Rowan Ho, his assistant, looked up in surprise — he had never seen the infamous Dark Lord show concern for anyone before.
"Dark Lord, we have a meeting with the Chancellor of Green High for the sponsorship proposal," Rowan said.
"Confirm it. I will attend personally," Mr. Richard replied, turning back to Rose. "Be available by six p.m. My assistant will pick you up. We will continue with your proposal then."
Rose smiled with relief. "Thank you, Mr. Richard." She turned and left, her heart pounding — not from fear, but from something she couldn't yet name.
Later that afternoon at Green High, Chancellor Adams White was finalizing preparations. "The study camp begins next week," he announced. "Thanks to Mr. Dark Lord's generous contribution, we hope to select twenty outstanding students for a global study tour and full scholarships to any university of their choice."
"We will be there on opening day," Mr. Richard said. "Keep me informed of the final list."
That evening, a black Rolls-Royce pulled up in front of the Lucas mansion. Rowan Ho stepped out in his tailored suit, adjusting his