[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":10},["ShallowReactive",2],{"viewer-data-2603220ECDF1-629":3},{"id":4,"number":5,"name":6,"content":7,"isLocked":8,"price":9,"hasRead":8},629,71,"Chapter 71: \"Did He Have a Bruise?\"","\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette rose at the crack of dawn on Saturday.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The air in Deepwater was temperate; though it was only early spring, the peach blossoms in the mountain temple were already in full bloom.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The Griffin family had arranged everything with meticulous care—the vegetarian temple meals were surprisingly refined, and the accommodations were quiet and secluded.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">By evening, after a shower, Margaret Lewis and Catherine Palmer paired off to attend the evening meditation service. Emerson Griffin and Charles Ellis remained in the courtyard, their heads bent over a game of Go. Violette, left to her own devices, had no interest in the chanting, nor did she want to sit under the watchful, stone-faced scrutiny of the two patriarchs.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Like most modern city dwellers, her belief system was a grab-bag of half-baked secularism.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She was, to put it bluntly, the kind of person who only bowed to the God of Wealth.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Aside from the dutiful incense she’d burned that morning, praying for Roman’s health while he was away—and pulling a surprisingly auspicious fortune—she’d spent the rest of the day aimlessly wandering.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The temple complex was sprawling, but the guest quarters were tucked away in the innermost courtyards. Violette knew the path by heart, weaving her way to a garden thick with peach trees. The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting a golden haze over the orchard that made it even more hauntingly beautiful than it had been at noon. Perhaps because of the view, she wasn’t the only one seeking solace in the back garden.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">At first, she didn’t pay them any mind, offering a polite, practiced nod as she brushed past.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Then, a voice stopped her in her tracks. \"Mrs. Griffin?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette paused, pivoting slowly to place the face.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The man smiled, his expression sharp and recognizing. \"You have a busy life, Mrs. Griffin. We met briefly at the university campus.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">It clicked. The man with the Maybach.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The wealthy were often more superstitious than most, it seemed; the need to detox with a few days of temple food was apparently a universal ritual among his set. Unlike their first, stiff encounter, he was now eager to strike up a conversation. \"Are you here for the vegetarian retreat, Mrs. Griffin?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Just clearing my head,\" Violette said with a practiced smile.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"How lovely. Is Mr. Griffin joining you?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"He’s on a business trip,\" she replied smoothly.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"A pity. I ran into him at the school the other day and had the chance to ask him a few questions. I was hoping to thank him in person.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*The university?*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette’s intuition flared. She doubted the man could mistake her identity, and the chance of him misidentifying Roman Griffin was practically zero.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She kept her voice steady. \"You mean the open house?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Exactly! You two were there together, weren't you?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She didn't dare show even a flicker of confusion. Violette offered her most polished, \"society wife\" smile. \"Oh, that day! He’s so shy about stealing the spotlight, he barely made an appearance. Where did you manage to track him down?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"I must have just been lucky,\" the man said, chuckling. \"Right outside the lecture hall.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*Outside the lecture hall.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette felt a cold shiver trace her spine, but she kept her face composed. \"I wondered where he’d disappeared to. I suppose he was off chatting with the school officials.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The man shook his head. \"Not then. That was after everything had wrapped up. I remember I’d just finished talking with Mr. Griffin when I saw that professional athlete walk out from the other side. The one… Blake something?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The smile, held too long, suddenly felt brittle. Her jaw ached.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Is that so?\" she murmured.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Yes. I even managed to snag an autograph.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">People in Roman’s inner circle didn't care for internet gossip. They obsessed over inheritance taxes, private equity, and who was currently burning through their family fortune. They treated romantic scandals like gossip over cocktails—interesting, but rarely worth the effort of taking seriously. Many of them were too concerned with face to care about a woman's past; they’d just as soon marry a famous starlet and stick her on a shelf like a trophy.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">It was clear this man had no idea she and Blake Pierce had once been a couple. He didn’t know how discordant the names \"Roman Griffin\" and \"Blake Pierce\" were when placed in the same sentence. He spoke of it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">After a stiff, polite farewell, Violette walked away.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The sun had completely vanished behind the hills, leaving only a thin, bruise-colored light clinging to the horizon. The temperature had plummeted, and she wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her cold skin.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">As she made her way back, her thoughts spiraled. Why had Roman never mentioned being at the university that day? He’d told her he’d arrived in Deepwater early, and he clearly knew she’d been playing tennis with Blake. Yet, he’d played the part of the oblivious husband who’d only just returned home at midnight.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">And then, she remembered his collar—creased, messy. The faint scrape on his temple.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Could they have actually crossed paths? Had they clashed?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*Right.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She recalled the cryptic, jarring question Roman had posed that night: \"Who do you think won? Me, or him?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The realization hit her like a physical blow: Roman—the man she thought she knew—had actually gotten into a fistfight with Blake Pierce.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The concept was so absurd, so entirely out of character for a man like Roman, that it left her reeling. By the time she reached the courtyard and performed the perfunctory greetings to the two fathers, she was breathless. She ducked into Kaisen’s quarters, using two bottles of soda as an excuse.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Kaisen? You want a drink?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Kaisen sprang up like a jack-in-the-box. \"Are you kidding? Give it here!\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He’d been suffering through the vegetarian diet for one day, and he looked like he was about to wither away. He cracked open the soda, the fizz acting like a shot of adrenaline. \"It’s a shame there’s no ice.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette handed him the second bottle. \"Put it in the mountain stream outside. It’ll be ice-cold by morning.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Kaisen looked at her with pure awe. \"Sister-in-law, you’re a genius!\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Hey,\" Violette said, her tone deliberately casual. \"That ice cream at the school was pretty good, wasn’t it?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"It’s a staple! How could it not be?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Has your brother ever had it?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Yeah, big time! He came to the outdoor event last year. I insisted he try it, and he actually liked it!\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Maybe he should go again next year,\" Violette said, feeling a pang of guilt for interrogating a minor. But she kept her voice light, airy. \"It’s a shame he missed it this time while he was abroad.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Tell me about it. I was really hoping he’d show up,\" Kaisen sighed.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">It seemed Kaisen didn't know anything either.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*So.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette felt a strange, nagging obsession with the truth. Roman had come; he hadn't come. Why was she tearing herself apart trying to find out the truth?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She had told him, point-blank, that she’d run into Blake that day.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He hadn't reacted. She’d attributed it to his legendary restraint, his ability to bury his true feelings. But looking back, it wasn’t restraint at all—he’d already known. He’d been sitting there, watching, waiting to see if she would be honest with him.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">What would have happened if she hadn't confessed?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Would he have used it as a test? How would he have played it? Just sat there in the dark, watching her perform in a one-woman show?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette felt a chill creep into her marrow. The mountain wind bit through her clothes, turning her bones to ice.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She was so lost in the static of her own thoughts that she didn’t even hear Charles Ellis call her name twice as she headed back to her room.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Inside, she pulled out her phone. The screen flickered, then went black.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She’d already dialed his number, but the signal in the mountains was abysmal; the call had dropped on its own. She sat on the edge of the bed, her thumb hovering over the screen, lighting it up, letting it die, lighting it up again.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Truthfully, she wasn't even sure what she would say if he answered.\u003C/p>",false,0,1774272919558]