The next day, Nanita—Roman’s on-again, off-again girlfriend—arrived unannounced. She knocked sharply on the door twice in quick succession. Silence followed.
Inside, Roman’s captured phone buzzed, lit-up with unread ssages and a couple of missed calls from her. He ignored them.
After several long seconds, Roman appeared at the door opening it—his expression blank. When he saw it was Nanita, his face didn’t register surprise or relief. Instead, his gaze remained cool and controlled.
Nanita stepped inside without a greeting. She didn’t glance at his face, as though he barely existed to her now. She crossed the foyer toward the living room, where Roman’s stepbrother and stepmother were lounging on the sofa, caught up in a dayti drama playing on TV.
The second she stepped into the room, the air shifted. Russo,Roman’s stepbrother—looked up from his phone. His eyes cinched hungrily as they swept over Nanita’s figure, lingering on her toned legs, accentuated by a short mini‑skirt, and the curve-hugging top that left nothing to the imagination.
He didn’t bother to conceal it.
Heat surged in his gaze. A predatory thought flashed across his mind—he traced imaginary positions he will make her do, the way he would smack her round butt, make her moan under his crotch and beg for more and in front of that looser.
The idea thrilled him, stirred his blood.
anwhile, his stepmother glanced up, a curious flicker of interest in her eyes.
Nanita noticed but didn’t care,about these glances she was getting .She only noticed the silence that followed her arrival.
She moved to the couch and sat on the couch in which Russo was sitting.
Roman followed a mont later, stepping into the living room like a silent storm. Nanita looked at him, frustration etched across her face.
"Why haven’t you been answering my calls? Responding to my texts?" she asked, her voice calm but laced with hurt—and anger.
Roman didn’t speak. He rely locked eyes with her and held it. His unblinking stare caught her off‑guard. Normally, when she saw him, he would light up—make a grimace, maybe a soft laugh. Not today.
Now...an unreadable chill. A dark intensity behind his gaze. Sothing lethal.
She blew air through her lips.
"Roman?" she repeated, softer this ti.
He didn’t answer.
She sank deeper into the couch, confusion twisting into rage, rage hardening into sothing else. Sothing dark.
Russo nudged his mother with his elbow, A silent exchange, full of expectancy.
Minutes passed, Roman finally spoke.
His voice was low—cold.
"I don’t like you anymore," he said. "We’re breaking up."
It hit her like a punch to the gut. Shock would’ve been the understatent of the day. Air fled her lungs. The room tilted.
She stared at him, mouth hanging open, like a dog hearing its owner wag the tail but refusing to let it back in. "What? You’re dumping ? Are you ... kidding?"
Russo snorted, amused at her distress.
His stepmother sat straight, curious, lips twitching.
Roman didn’t flinch.
"If you have nothing more to say," he continued, "then get lost."
Her world shattered. Rage and humiliation flared in her eyes. Her cheeks burned red as her voice snapped.
"You—you bastard! You’ll never find a girlfriend like again! I—"
Her words tumbled out, each more biting than the last.
"I... I pitied you. I gave you a chance! And you—you destroyed it! Have you looked in the mirror? You’re ugly as hell! Even a street beggar looks better than you. You fucking loser."
She slamd to her feet, face pale with fury and hurt. "Now... even if you crawl on your knees like a dog and beg—I won’t forgive you. It’s over."
Rustling her bag, she marched straight towards the door —her heels clicking sharply. Russo followed, sneering, soaking in her pain like a show.
"This is all your fault, leacher!" he called softly over his shoulder. "She sees your true face now." Russo smirked and went after her.
Nanita didn’t turn. She strode out, leaving the front door swinging behind her.
Inside, the living room lay heavy with tension. oman’s stepmother stared at him for quite a while.His father, elsewhere in the house, never ca to see what happened.
Roman remained where he stood—unflinching. For a beat, his mouth curled slightly. Then he turned.
In his eyes, sothing flickered:
Her fate will be worse than she ever imagined.
He slipped out of view and climbed the stairs.
---
He entered his room and closed the door behind him with a soft click. His mind stread forward like a river fed by winter rain. Sothing cold and malicious burned in his chest.
This was only the beginning.
Roman picked up his battered, old mobile—its screen cracked, its cover faded—and dialed a number. The line rang twice before a rough voice picked up on the other end.
"Got the evidence?" Roman asked without wasting ti on plesentries, his tone cold and sharp.
A low chuckle ca through the speaker, laced with amusent and sothing dirtier beneath.
"Oh, I got it alright. Gotta say... you’ve got yourself quite a colorful girlfriend," the man said, clearly enjoying himself. "She really knows how to use that body of hers. Bent like silk, moved like sin. Heh... full performance."
Roman was calm as if it didn’t mattered to him.
"et tomorrow at the café. Sa one. We’ll finalize the deal."
There was a short pause.
"Sure. I’ll bring the whole package."
Tu... tu... tu... The line went dead.
Roman lowered the phone slowly, his eyes reflecting the pale light from his bedroom window. The shadows in the room seed to shiver as he stood there motionless, mind racing behind his expressionless face.
"Checkmate’s coming bitch," he whispered.
======≠====================
Author’s Note:
Roman has chosen the dark path. The world will burn again... but under **his** rule this ti.
If you’re enjoying the chaos, don’t forget to:
- 🔥 Drop a Power Stone
- ✍️ Leave a review
- 💬 Share your thoughts in the comnts
Your support helps the story rise — and ensures Roman doesn’t co after ** for stopping. 😂
See you in the next Chapter!
—Author
Reviews
All reviews (0)