It was a quiet morning when a lawyer arrived at Roman’s house. He asked to et both Roman and Russo. Roman ca out casually, calm and composed, but Russo arrived a little later. His face looked pale, his eyes dull. It was clear he hadn’t slept all night.
The lawyer didn’t say much to Russo. He had already heard the rumours — the scandal, the whispers in the nabourhood. Without wasting ti, he went straight to the point.
He pulled out so docunts and said, "This is the will. Not of Mr. Arman, but of Mrs. Nanda." Roman’s dead mother.
Roman blinked, a bit surprised.
The lawyer continued, "According to the will, when Roman turns 18, the ownership of this house will be transferred to him. Also, a fixed deposit of 45,000 dollars will be moved into his na."
That was it. Simple and clear.
Russo couldn’t believe his ears. He looked shocked. "What? Isn’t this house my father’s? Why didn’t I get anything?"
The lawyer didn’t hesitate. "The house was always in the na of Mrs. Nanda. It was her property. And she had full rights to give it to anyone she wanted."
Russo’s mouth went dry. First, he had lost both his parents. Then ca the scandal that made people avoid him. And now, the last thing he thought he still had — his ho — was no longer his.
His head was spinning. The lawyer got Roman’s signatures on the papers, packed up his files, and left quietly.
--------------------------------
Back in his room, Russo felt broken. With no one left to turn to, he picked up his phone and started calling everyone he could think of — uncles, aunts, distant relatives. One by one, they all said no. So made excuses, so didn’t even bother to answer.
Nobody wanted to take him in.
Now, he had only one option left.
Roman.
The sa boy Russo used to bully. The boy he used to mock, call weak, and treat like a servant. Now, Russo had to beg him for a place to stay — in a house that wasn’t his anymore.
The proud prince had turned into a holess beggar. Ti had truly changed.
--------------------------------
anwhile, Roman sat quietly in his room, staring at the papers in his hands. He didn’t smile. He didn’t feel proud. Instead, he felt sothing else — sothing soft, warm, and painful.
Love.
Not romantic love. But the love of a mother.
For so long, he believed no one cared about him. He thought he was unwanted — just a forgotten shadow in the family.
But now, he knew the truth.
Even in death, his mother had thought of him. She had protected him, given him a ho, and left behind sothing valuable — not just the house or money, but the proof that soone had truly loved him.
Tears welled up in his eyes, but he didn’t let them fall. He whispered softly to himself,
"Thank you, Mom."
------------------
That evening, Russo slowly ca downstairs. He looked nervous, like he wanted to say sothing but didn’t know how to begin. So, he stayed quiet during dinner, stealing quick glances at Roman, who didn’t seem to notice him.
After the al, Russo saw Roman sitting alone in the garden, under the dim light. Taking a deep breath, Russo walked out and stood there for a mont, unsure of what to say.
Finally, he gathered the courage and spoke.
"Can I... stay here? In this house?"
Roman didn’t answer right away. He just looked at Russo, calm and silent.
After a few long seconds, Roman asked, "If the situation was reversed... would you have let stay?"
His voice was casual, almost like he didn’t care. But his eyes said sothing else.
Russo looked down. He didn’t answer at first. Then, slowly, he said, "I think... I would’ve."
"You think you would’ve?" Roman repeated with a small smile. "So, you’re not even sure."
Russo bit his lip. "Please, I know I ssed up. I didn’t treat you like a brother. But I want to change. I’m not asking for much... just a roof over my head."
Roman looked at him for a long mont. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes were sharp and unreadable. Then, he finally said, "Okay. You can stay... for now."
Without another word, Roman stood up and walked away, leaving Russo alone in the garden.
Russo let out a deep breath. It felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest. He finally had a place to stay. A little bit of hope.
But what Russo didn’t know... was that Roman hadn’t said yes out of kindness. This wasn’t about forgiveness.
It was the beginning of his final revenge.
The countdown had already started.
20 days left before the world would fall into chaos.
And Roman was going to settle every score before the apocalypse began.
---------------------
The next day early in the morning, Roman visited the city’s biggest and most high-tech construction firm. The company was known for building high-security bunkers, luxury hos, and even secret underground shelters for the ultra-rich.
Roman sat down with a staff mber and calmly listed his request.
"I want to build an underground safehouse," he said.
The employee looked up, surprised.
"It must survive every kind of weather... have its own life-support system, artificial heat, clean water filters, automatic fire weapons... a place where crops can grow... and it should survive at least ten missile strikes."
The worker stared at him, confused. "What...?"
Without another word, the employee rushed to call the manager.
---
When the manager read the list of demands, his eyes widened.
"Is this a joke?" he asked.
He had worked on such projects before — for rich n in their fifties or sixties, people with enemies in other countries or the governnt. They called it doomsday shelter work — high-end, secret, and extrely expensive.
But now his employee was telling him that a boy — barely 18 years old — was asking for the sa thing?
"Ridiculous," the manager muttered. "So rich kid playing gas."
He waved the employee off and went to speak with Roman himself.
---
The manager walked in and looked at Roman, sitting calmly in a chair, hands folded.
"You must be joking," the manager said. "You’re asking for a bunker like the ones we build for billionaires expecting a war. There’s no doomsday coming."
Roman didn’t react. He just leaned forward and asked one question:
"Can you build it or not?"
The manager raised an eyebrow. "Do you even understand how expensive this is? Special materials, secret tunnels, life systems — this will cost hundreds of crores."
"I want it completed in 15 days," Roman said.
Then he opened his phone, typed a few things, and said, "Check your company account."
The manager quickly checked. His jaw dropped.
300 crores.
Transferred in seconds.
He looked up at Roman again — really looked. And suddenly it hit him. He had seen this face before.
"Wait... you’re one of the ’Billionaires in a Flash’ from the news, right?"
Roman gave a small smirk.
The manager laughed awkwardly and stood up straight.
"It’ll be done, sir. No problem at all. We’ll start construction today."
Roman didn’t reply. He simply nodded and walked out.
__________________________________
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)