[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":10},["ShallowReactive",2],{"viewer-data-2603220ECDF1-627":3},{"id":4,"number":5,"name":6,"content":7,"isLocked":8,"price":9,"hasRead":8},627,69,"Chapter 69: \"You Go","\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The car was dead silent. A passing streetlight caught the window, painting half of Violette’s face in a heat that had nothing to do with the night air. She didn’t need to touch her ears to know they were burning, but fortunately, the side facing Roman was shrouded in shadow—he couldn't see a thing.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette lowered her gaze. In the brief lulls, the only sound was the distant, piercing roar of construction trucks rolling under the bridge.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The words had come from Adelaide, not her. But trying to explain the context of that conversation now felt like a chore. Why clarify? Why not just let Adelaide reach her own conclusion?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She did, in fact, like the way Roman smelled. By any logical stretch, admitting she liked him wasn’t exactly a lie.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette deliberated for a moment before deciding to address the simplest part of his inquiry.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"It wasn't a game of Truth or Dare,\" she said, her tone steady. \"And I didn't lose anything.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"So, that thing you said...\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman trailed off. He seemed to be waiting for her to repeat the conclusion, or perhaps he’d suddenly grown fearful of actually reaching the answer. Either way, he stopped.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Another car sped past, its headlights flooding the cabin in a rhythmic strobe.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Caught in the flickering light, their eyes locked. On a whim—or perhaps a sudden, reckless impulse—Violette unbuckled her seatbelt. She hoisted herself up, leaning across the center console just as Roman reached out. She pressed a fleeting, feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth. As she pulled back, the seatbelt recoiled with a sharp *snap*, yanking her back into her seat.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">They both settled back into their positions. Violette turned her gaze to the streetlamp outside, staring straight ahead.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"It means exactly what you think it means.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She didn't dare look at Roman, so she had no idea what expression he was wearing. The silence that followed stretched on, thick and strange. Fearing he’d turned into a statue, she snuck a tiny, peripheral glance toward him.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman was still sitting in the same posture, his eyes dark and unreadable.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette decided to pretend the last thirty seconds hadn't happened. She cleared her throat. \"Why aren't we moving?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Wait a second,\" Roman muttered, his voice gravelly.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Waiting for what?\" she asked.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">...\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman shifted his posture, smooth and subtle.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Nerves,\" he said. \"My leg is cramping.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">By the time they pulled into their residential complex, a ghost of a smile was still lingering at the corners of Violette’s mouth. It wasn't their first kiss, so what exactly was he nervous about? But in that moment, the confession that he was nervous had filled her with a strange, giddy satisfaction. She couldn't hold it back and let out an uncharacteristically airy giggle.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman wasn't a man with a thin skin. He kept his composure, waiting for the cramp to subside and for his suit trousers to settle back into their proper, crisp line.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">They pulled the car into the garage, acting like any other happily married couple returning home. As Roman rounded the car to retrieve her bag, his arm slid around her, pulling her firmly into his side.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The elevator was coming down from the lobby. When it opened at the basement level, the building’s property manager was waiting inside, holding a beautifully wrapped gift box.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Mr. and Mrs. Griffin, welcome home.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The property management team usually prepared little surprises for the holidays. They hadn't been around for the recent ones, so it wasn't particularly strange to receive a gift now.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Before she could even offer a thank you, the manager added, \"This is a housewarming gift from the resident on the 27th floor. You haven't been home much lately, so we’ve been keeping it safe at the front desk. I saw your car pull in and wanted to bring it up right away.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The 27th floor. A housewarming gift.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman caught the keywords. He nodded, his expression completely blank. \"Thank you.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The manager stepped off at the lobby, and the elevator surged upward to the 28th floor. Once they stepped out, Roman’s right arm remained hooked firmly around her waist, while his left hand carried the gift. Violette reached for it a few times, but he acted as if he hadn't noticed, completely indifferent.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">At the front door, Roman tipped his chin, signaling her.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette understood. She reached out and tapped in the code to the digital keypad.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">During the short climb in the elevator, her mind hadn't stopped racing. *What kind of stunt is that little brat Blake Pierce pulling now?*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">What was inside the box? Was there something suggestive?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">More than curiosity, she was terrified of her stable life being upended. While living at Blue Springs Estate, Violette could avoid these questions, side-stepping any contact with Blake. But not here. Here, they lived on top of each other, sharing the same elevator. At any given moment, the three of them could end up in that small, enclosed space.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">What would she say then?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">If she tried to explain to Roman that Blake Pierce moving into the unit downstairs was a move she hadn't consented to, would he believe her?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman’s emotions were like an iceberg—she only ever saw the tip. He might say everything was fine, but his heart could be a different story. Once a relationship descends into suspicion, it’s a death march. Violette knew that better than anyone.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Her constant arguments with Blake hadn't just been about how they handled public criticism; the cracks had formed long before that.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She thought back to that one time he’d flown into Deepwater just before a major tournament. He’d been insecure, hearing the slightest rumor and rushing over to interrogate her.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*\"Is there some guy named Griffin chasing after you?\"*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">If only there had been less suspicion, things might not have fallen apart. If not for that trip to Deepwater, so much of the subsequent chaos might never have happened.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette’s eyelid began to twitch again. She reached up to press it down, kicking off her heels as she stepped inside. When her bare feet hit the floor, Roman was already bending down to straighten them.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She took the chance to snag the gift box from the foyer table.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">It had a delicate bamboo handle tied with a silk ribbon. It was light—the weight of a standard gift. Violette carried it into the living room and sat down.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She positioned herself at an angle that blocked Roman’s line of sight to the terrace. He didn't have x-ray vision, so he couldn't see her expression or the contents of the box. All he saw was her slender silhouette, her hair pinned up with a claw clip, a few stray tendrils escaping. As she bowed her head, her bangs fell forward, revealing the sharp point of her chin.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She was examining the items one by one. Roman knew this because he could see her lining them up on the table—scented candles, hand creams, things like that.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The person who sent this had a very specific agenda. It felt like they were targeting the woman of the house.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman walked over at a leisurely pace and plucked one of the items from the table, turning it over in his palm.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Citrus. Rose.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">They were all scents Violette loved.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Thankfully, Roman had been in a good mood before coming home, so he wasn't about to act like a jealous husband and storm down to the 27th floor to confront anyone. He smoothed out the only ripple of irritation in his heart, relaxed his shoulders, and leaned back against the sofa. \"Why are you in such a hurry to open it?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette’s fingers paused. \"Nobody can resist an unopened package.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman crossed his arms over his chest, his right hand tapping against his left bicep.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Well, now that we've accepted a gift from the new neighbor, perhaps we should find an opportunity to pay them a visit.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He wasn't entirely sure why he’d said it.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette remained perfectly natural, as if she didn't have the slightest clue who lived downstairs. His question felt like a thorn—the natural defensive reaction of a man who felt his territory encroached upon. By the time he realized he wanted to pull the thorn out, he’d already pricked himself.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette looked up at that moment.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She stared at him, her expression and gaze just as they always were. \"No thanks. After work, I’m functionally agoraphobic. If you want to go, you go by yourself.\"\u003C/p>",false,0,1774272919461]