[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":10},["ShallowReactive",2],{"viewer-data-2603220ECDF1-573":3},{"id":4,"number":5,"name":6,"content":7,"isLocked":8,"price":9,"hasRead":8},573,15,"Chapter 15: The Six-Figure Blunder","\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Not long after Roman Griffin walked away, Bradley Harper spotted the uninvited guest sitting a few rows down. He clicked his tongue in silence; he had come for the show, but he hadn't expected the universe to stage it so perfectly.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">With Roman out of earshot, Bradley tapped open the voice messages he hadn’t had time to listen to in the car.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"So, I’m telling you, Roman is acting weird. Remember that empty lot behind the Azure Club? I saw a construction crew moving in the other day. I asked the site manager, and he said it was originally slated for a tennis court. Then Roman swooped in with a massive investment and ordered them to turn it into a golf course instead.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"So? What’s weird about that? He’s always been into horseback riding, golf, sailing, and paragliding abroad. He doesn't touch ball sports, really.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"That’s exactly the weird part! There isn't a single club in Deepwater where he doesn't have a VIP membership, so why fixate on that tiny plot behind the Azure Club? It isn't even big enough for him to land a decent drive.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"When you put it that way, you're right...\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"I get it now! He just hates tennis. He hates anything related to it. If you want the reason, I think it's because—\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"That’s a stretch, man. Truly. Is Roman really that petty? When we mentioned that guy was back in town the other day, Roman didn't even blink. Besides, the two of them are happily married. We’re meddling where we don’t belong.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"True. When it comes to looks, talent, or anything else, Roman and Violette are a match made in heaven. Everyone calls them the golden couple.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The rest of the chat was filled with examples of just how whipped Roman was.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Bradley didn't bother listening to the rest. He fired back a quick text to the group chat: *Well, the moment Violette’s unattainable first love hits the country, Roman doesn't react, but we’re the ones having a panic attack. Whatever. Forget I said anything.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He glanced back at the stands. Blake Pierce was hunched over, his face looking distinctly sour.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*Good,* Bradley thought. *Let him stay miserable.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">With his hands shoved deep into his pockets, Bradley sauntered off to find Roman. They were scheduled to head back to the office for a meeting once the system debugging wrapped up; it was going to be another late night. Just as the thought crossed his mind, he collided with Roman, who was already heading back.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Seeing Bradley, Roman’s expression eased slightly. \"Handle the monitoring for a bit. I’m not going back to the office.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The event system was their biggest project of the quarter.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"What project could possibly be more important than this?\" Bradley asked.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman checked his watch, his tone maddeningly nonchalant. \"Cooking dinner for my wife.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"...\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The second Roman vanished, Bradley opened the group chat and typed a follow-up: *My previous message is null and void. Something is genuinely, deeply wrong with this guy! He’s blowing off the event system before the workday is even over to go play house? Seriously? Is he really bragging to me right now? Am I cursed to be single forever?*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman, of course, was oblivious.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He told his driver to head straight home. As they passed a luxury grocery store near the entrance of their district, he hesitated for a fraction of a second.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Pulling over, Mr. Griffin?\" the driver asked respectfully.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"No, keep going.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman was thinking that Violette had been sleeping a lot this afternoon; a walk might do her good. He’d invite her out later.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">When he reached the house, the door to the primary suite at the end of the hallway was still closed. Roman softened his footsteps, heading to the guest room to change.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette was just walking out with a glass of water when she caught sight of a tie draped over the back of a dining chair. She stepped back, peering toward the foyer. A pair of Italian handmade leather shoes sat on the mat.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The patent leather was polished to a mirror shine, not a speck of dust in sight, with the tips pointing straight toward the door—it was classic Roman.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">It brought back memories of the first time she’d seen him.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">It had been at the V-Oasis headquarters. Though the conference room where her assistant had taken her was packed with six or seven people, she had spotted Roman in an instant. She had done her research, of course—not just from his headshots, but from the industry's consensus on the V-Oasis lead: refined, disciplined, and possessing every quality a scion of a great family should have.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">In a room full of suits, only he carried that effortless air of authority, shirt tucked with precision, his lean, tall frame commanding the space with every casual movement.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Back then, Violette had assumed he only dressed like that because he was preparing for an interview. Later, through more encounters—both formal and casual—she realized it was simply who he was.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">It was hard not to admire the ingrained taste and self-control he’d cultivated since childhood.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">And now, this methodical, steady man was her husband.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette leaned against the doorframe, still finding the whole situation surreal. They had married so quickly that it still felt like a fever dream.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*Click.* The guest room door opened.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman had changed into something more casual—a knit sweater and soft linen trousers. The black neckline hugged his throat, framing his Adam's apple like a sheathed blade, cold and devastatingly restrained.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette froze for a second, lowering her glass.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Home early today.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She smiled as she spoke, her eyes curving into soft crescents. She still had that relaxed, sleepy look from her nap, a disarming softness that made Roman’s chest tighten.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He quelled the rising urge to cross the room, instead stepping forward to gently take the glass from her hand and refill it with warm water. The heat radiated through the glass against his palm.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He handed it back. \"Thinking about you taking the day off made it hard to focus on work.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The water wasn't too hot—it was perfectly comfortable—but Violette reacted as if she’d been scalded.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Their marriage was a business transaction, and they had settled into a comfortable, normal routine, but she’d always known Roman to be the height of gentlemanly reserve. He didn't usually say things that invited such… suggestive thoughts. It was entirely un-Roman.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette eyed him suspiciously.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"If I'm home, you can't focus on work?\" she teased. \"Are you worried I’m going to tear the house down?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman didn't bother gauging how much of her comment was a joke. He began to pace the room as if on inspection. \"I’ll have to check.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette’s expression flickered with sudden anxiety. She gripped the glass tightly.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"...Actually, I saw one of your shirts on the island in the walk-in closet this afternoon. I thought I’d iron it for you, but I don't know what happened. I messed up the temperature and the steam settings.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman frowned. \"Did you burn yourself?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"No,\" Violette said. \"I ruined the shirt.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">It was just a shirt.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman took her hand, inspecting it inch by inch for any signs of redness, before finally saying, \"If the shirt is ruined, so be it. It wasn't worth anything.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette thought of the clothes in Roman’s closet; there wasn't a single item in there that wasn't worth a small fortune. She clearly remembered a plain, unassuming platinum tie clip he owned that looked identical to an eighteen-dollar one she’d seen online—only she remembered it because the price tag was still on it, and the number had three zeroes behind it.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">As for the shirt she’d ruined, it was almost certainly some bespoke piece from Savile Row—what Roman called \"not worth anything.\"\u003C/p>",false,0,1774272917350]