[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":10},["ShallowReactive",2],{"viewer-data-2603220ECDF1-592":3},{"id":4,"number":5,"name":6,"content":7,"isLocked":8,"price":9,"hasRead":8},592,34,"Chapter 34: The Passenger Door’s Click","\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman knew.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">When Violette had first agreed to marry him, it was because he’d told her, \"Let’s try this. I don’t mind if he’s still in your heart.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He was like a parasite in her emotional life, playing the part of the devoted underdog until his goal was reached. But the claim that he didn’t mind? It was a lie.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He minded like hell.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">But a man who sneaks into someone’s life when they’re at their most vulnerable has to shed his pride. He’d prepared himself for that moment, and for every subsequent concession he’d have to make.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He still remembered the confusion in Violette’s eyes when he’d first said it. \"Mr. Griffin, do you even like me?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"I apologize,\" he had replied. \"I’ve never truly fallen for anyone before, so I can’t put a name to this feeling. But I can say one thing for certain: I admire you.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*Admire.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">It was the perfect word—a strategic retreat that allowed for a tactical advance.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette had asked, \"Admire what, exactly?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Was it the effortless grace she held at her studio? Her meticulous, razor-sharp work ethic? Her hidden, spirited wit? Or was it that single, fleeting glimpse of her the first time they met?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman wasn’t sure.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He was a man who prided himself on honesty, and constructing a lie had already cost him enough effort. So he’d laid it out plainly: \"Whether it’s admiration or something deeper, it doesn’t matter. Compatibility is the hardest part of any relationship.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He admitted, even now, that there had been a bitter edge of resentment toward Blake Pierce in that statement.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette had lowered her gaze. \"You sound like you’ve had plenty of experience.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"The rules of engagement between people are essentially the same,\" Roman had said.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"And what if we aren't compatible?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman had paused, then spoken with chilling certainty. \"My judgment has never failed me. Ms. Ellis, I’ll be waiting for your answer.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">...\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">His marriage to Violette had been built on a foundation of his own deception.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman wasn’t nearly as patient or as noble as he had claimed to be. And now, he was reaping the bitter harvest of his own seeds. He had staged the performance of a magnanimous husband, and now, even if his teeth were shattered, he had to swallow the pain in silence. It was the one situation in his otherwise flawless life where he felt utterly powerless.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">After Dax Murphy finished speaking, Roman could only offer a hollow, mirthless smile. He pressed a thumb against his temple; the throbbing in his skull was relentless, and his nerves were firing like a drum kit. The two cups of coffee he’d downed earlier were accelerating his heart rate to a frantic, sickening rhythm—he could hear his own blood rushing in his ears like a rising tide.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Dax looked concerned. \"Are you alright, boss?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman surged to his feet, losing his usual, composed veneer. \"I’m leaving.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"I... I’ll walk you out.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">This time, Roman stopped him at the office door. He didn’t want company.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">As he watched Roman’s silhouette disappear, Dax pulled out his phone and opened a group chat that had been dormant for days: *Anyone up for cards later?*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The others replied: *This is a gossip thread, Dax. You’re in the wrong place.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Dax: *Asking you lot anyway. Roman won't be coming.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Others: *Why?*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Dax: *Intuition. He looks like he’s ready to kill someone.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The others were free, so they made plans for after work.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The golf course at The Azure Club was already covered in fresh turf. With the holiday season approaching, the club was dripping in opulence, the course lit up at night as brightly as high noon.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Dax leaned against the window, lighting a cigarette. \"So, they’re actually turning this into a real course?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"What else? Roman paid for it. If he wanted to turn it into a pig farm, he could.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"A pig farm would be a bit much.\" Dax flicked the ash, his tone shifting. \"Is that tennis player still in Deepwater?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Because of Roman, the guys had been keeping an eye on The Tour. A few of them were tennis enthusiasts—or at least, they liked to pretend. Tennis was seen as a \"high-society\" sport, and even if they didn’t care for the game, they’d occasionally book a court just for the photos to look the part. They were keeping tabs on the star players, trying to network.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"He’s still around! But I heard he’s heading out for his next match soon.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Dax smiled, extinguishing his cigarette. \"Stubborn bastard.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">...\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Stubborn bastard.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">As Violette finished organizing her files to head home, Marilyn Stone walked by and muttered the words.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette turned to see Marilyn standing by the window, peering down at the parking garage.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"What was that?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Marilyn pulled the blinds, leaving a thin slit to look through. She pointed down toward the parking lot. \"See that car? It’s been parked down there every few days. Tinted windows, no lights on—it’s like a ghost.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Marilyn had been hyper-vigilant ever since she’d been accosted. She lowered her voice. \"You don't think it's another one of those trolls, do you?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"That seems unlikely,\" Violette said. \"We’re in the middle of a media storm right now.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Exactly. Because it's a storm, everyone assumes no one would be stupid enough to stir up trouble. That’s when they strike, and that’s when we get complacent.\" Marilyn looked like a woman who had cracked a secret code. \"Look, you’re already being complacent, aren't you?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette tucked her files into her bag and walked to the window to take a look.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">It was a black sedan. In the front seat, a man’s brawny arm rested on the steering wheel, his fingers drumming against the dashboard with a restless, impatient energy.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">There was someone in the car, waiting, motionless for a long time.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette checked the station’s internal group chat. Aside from the night-shift crew, everyone had clocked out. Only a few floors in the building were still lit.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Was the person they were waiting for still inside?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette reached over and pulled Marilyn’s hand back, letting the blinds snap shut.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Which way are you heading?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Marilyn shrugged. \"My car is parked right next to his, which is why I’ve been keeping such a close eye on him.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"I'll walk down with you.\" Violette picked up the desk phone to call security, then patted her bag. \"I’ve got pepper spray in here.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">By the time they reached the elevator, a security guard was already waiting for them. The three of them crossed the lobby toward the exit.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"I’ll see you to your car first,\" Violette said, her hand resting on the zipper of her tote bag, her index finger hooked around the canister of pepper spray inside.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She wasn't going to lie—she was terrified. Her fingers trembled as she took those steps toward the black sedan. The arm resting on the dashboard looked powerful, the man attached to it likely large and dangerous. If this was a real threat, the three of them might not be enough to stop him.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The security guard felt it too; he was gripping his baton so hard his knuckles had gone white.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The last few steps felt like an eternity. Just as Marilyn was about to hit the unlock button on her key fob, the sedan beside them let out a sharp *chirp*. Marilyn jumped back toward her own hood.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The back door of the sedan slid open automatically, the harsh glare of the streetlights cutting into the dark interior.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">They saw a flash of black athletic fabric, a pair of limited-edition sneakers. A foot stepped onto the pavement.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">A young man in a bucket hat emerged, his face half-hidden in shadow, save for a thin line of lips and a sharp, angular jawline.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He stood well over six feet, towering over them, yet as he looked at Violette, his posture seemed to shrink. He stood there with a strange, aimless vulnerability—as if he were trying to please her.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette exhaled sharply, her hand falling away from the bag.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Why are you here?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The security guard didn't know him, but the tone of her voice told him this was a familiar face. He waved a hand and let out a long breath. \"If you don't need me, I'm heading back.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Marilyn’s car was right there, but she couldn't just walk away—she had to pass right between them. She was dying for the drama.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Oh, look at that. A big-time star,\" Marilyn said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Blake Pierce glanced between Violette and Marilyn. It was clear that Violette didn't care to hide from her colleague. If there was something to be said, she didn't mind an audience.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"I sent you a message, but you didn't reply. So I thought I’d wait and see if you came out.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Blake’s voice was low, his throat still raspy from training. His current demeanor was like a courtier waiting in the cold for a shred of royal attention.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"I brought a complete copy of the legal documents; I need your signature. I’m leaving Deepwater, and I haven't found a proper agent to handle this yet, so I thought...\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He looked up, his eyes stark and clear in the streetlight.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"You don't mind, do you?\"\u003C/p>",false,0,1774272918155]