CHAPTER 172: THE NAME THAT BROKE THE SILENCE

The music in the ballroom flowed like warm honey — soft violins weaving around the hum of laughter and the gentle clinking of crystal glasses.

Chandeliers scattered light like liquid gold, painting every gown and polished shoe in quiet luxury.

But to Julie, standing near the base of the grand staircase, that warmth felt strangely thin — like a fragile curtain stretched over something dark and waiting.

Her hands were clasped before her, the tips of her fingers white from pressure.

Lisa stood a few steps away, radiant in her deep sapphire gown, her poise so graceful that guests drifted instinctively toward her.

Denovan was beside her, tall and composed, his conversation sharp but courteous.

Beside Julie, Azazel and Ava murmured softly to one another, their laughter a welcome distraction — or it would have been, if Julie’s mind weren’t elsewhere.

It had been an hour.

An entire hour since Roman said he would be back.

She tried to remind herself that this was Lisa’s birthday, that he might have been caught up in a matter with the staff, or perhaps a business call — but the mansion’s air had shifted, grown quieter in places, too still in others.

She felt it in her chest, a dull, persistent ache. Something wasn’t right.

Lisa turned then, her diamond earrings catching the light. "Julie, dear," she said softly, stepping closer, "you’re still uneasy."

Julie’s throat tightened. She hesitated, but the concern in Lisa’s eyes invited honesty. "It’s just... he said he’d be back shortly. I can’t shake this feeling."

Lisa’s expression gentled, but her tone carried quiet authority. "We’ll find him, my dear.

This house is too guarded for anything to happen unnoticed." Her gaze shifted subtly toward an attendant near the archway.

"Send word to the north wing. Check every corridor. Tell them to be discreet."

The attendant bowed and left swiftly.

Azazel stood straighter, his earlier playfulness replaced by something taut and alert.

"I’ll go too," he murmured, almost to himself, though Lisa’s quick glance stopped him.

"Not yet," she said, voice steady. "Let the staff look first. We must not alarm the guests."

Denovan’s voice entered then — low, measured, with that quiet authority that always drew attention.

"Roman knows how to handle himself," he said. "But Lisa is right — it’s unusual for him to vanish without word."

Julie nodded faintly, trying to focus on the music, on Ava’s voice trying to draw her into light conversation.

But her mind kept spiraling toward the stairs, toward that unsettling silence above.

Then her phone buzzed.

It was subtle — a tiny vibration against her palm. Julie blinked, glancing down.

The device glowed faintly in the dim golden light, her heart skipping as she noticed the notification banner.

1 new message. Unknown number.

Her brows furrowed. She turned slightly, stepping away from the crowd toward the marble pillar for privacy.

The message preview was blank — just an image icon.

Her pulse quickened. A strange, cold instinct coiled through her stomach as she tapped it open.

The picture loaded slowly — pixel by pixel, under the soft glow of the chandelier above.

And when it cleared...

Her breath caught.

Roman.

Roman lying on a bed, shirt half-unbuttoned, eyes closed — completely still.

And a woman — her face turned slightly toward the camera — leaning over him, her hand resting on his chest.

The angle, the lighting, the intimacy of the frame... it said everything it shouldn’t.

Julie’s knees weakened. The room seemed to tilt around her, the violins fading into a distant hum.

Her thumb trembled over the screen as she forced herself to look again, searching — no, this couldn’t be real.

The woman’s long, black hair spilled across Roman’s bare shoulder like a shadow.

Her lips, painted deep red, were close to his jaw. The glow from the bedside lamp softened the entire scene — sinful, deliberate, staged.

"No..." Julie whispered, her voice cracking. She stepped back unconsciously, her heel scraping faintly against the marble.

Ava turned at once. "Julie?" she asked, noticing her pale face. "What’s wrong?"

Azazel followed her gaze immediately, his expression sharpening.

"Julie?" He moved closer, eyes flicking to her trembling hands. "What is it?"

Julie’s chest heaved. She tried to speak but no sound came. She simply turned the screen toward them.

Ava’s breath hitched audibly. Azazel’s reaction was sharper — a curse hissed under his breath before he caught himself. "What the hell—"

The sound was loud enough that Lisa and Denovan’s heads turned instantly from across the hall.

Lisa’s poise didn’t falter, but her eyes narrowed slightly.

She excused herself from a small circle of guests and moved toward them, her gown whispering across the marble.

"What’s going on?" she asked calmly, though there was a note of steel beneath it.

Azazel’s jaw worked soundlessly. He glanced at Julie, then at Lisa. His mouth opened, closed, and then, in a moment of frustrated disbelief, he muttered — not even realizing how loud his voice carried —

"Abigail."

Julie froze.

Lisa’s steps halted mid-way. Denovan, just behind her, went still — his eyes lifting sharply to Azazel.

For a heartbeat, no one breathed.

Julie blinked. "Wait— what did you just say?" Her voice was soft, trembling. "Who’s Abigail?"

Azazel’s face paled slightly, his throat tightening. "It’s—" He looked toward Lisa instinctively, the name still hanging heavy in the air.

Lisa’s expression smoothed like silk being drawn taut. "Azazel," she said quietly, her tone precise — a warning wrapped in calm.

Then she turned to Julie with the faintest smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "He’s only guessing, dear. A meaningless assumption."

But Julie caught the flicker in her gaze.

That brief, unguarded second when her eyes darted toward Denovan — and Denovan, in turn, met her look with one of silent understanding.

It wasn’t confusion between them. It was recognition.

They knew her.

The realization sank in like cold water. Julie’s pulse raced. "You... you know her," she said softly, her voice breaking the fragile calm. "Who is she?"

Lisa exhaled slowly, the faintest crease forming between her brows. "Julie, now isn’t the moment—"

"Lisa," Denovan interrupted, his tone even. "Let’s handle this upstairs." His hand rested lightly on her elbow, guiding her back into composure.

But Julie shook her head, the image still burning behind her eyes.

"No. I need to know what’s happening. That picture— it’s— it looks like—" Her voice faltered, unable to say the rest.

Azazel stepped closer, his tone urgent, protective. "Julie, it’s not what it looks like. I swear to you, it’s—"

But she barely heard him.

Her mind was spiraling — Roman’s still face, the woman’s black hair, the deliberate composition of the shot.

Someone had taken that picture to destroy something — her.

Lisa finally spoke again, quieter now, her voice steady but edged. "Whoever sent you that image wants exactly this — to stir panic."

"Roman is not a man easily compromised. Whatever that photo is, it’s fabricated or manipulated."

Denovan nodded slightly beside her.

"I’ve seen enough scandals built on half-truths. Until we verify it, we treat it as an attack."

Julie looked up at them both. "So you think someone’s targeting him?"

Lisa’s gaze softened — genuinely, this time. "No," she said quietly. "They’re targeting you."

Julie’s lips parted, confusion and fear tangling inside her. "Me?"

"Roman’s strength has always been his composure," Lisa murmured. "But his weakness... is you. If someone wants to unsettle him, they’d go after what he protects most."

The words struck deep. Julie’s eyes shimmered with the threat of tears, but she blinked them away.

Ava reached for her hand, squeezing gently. Azazel’s jaw was tight, his gaze sweeping the hall like a hawk’s.

Then, another vibration.

Julie flinched and looked down at her phone again. Another message — this time, a short line of text beneath the same number.

"You should see what happens next."

Her breath caught. "There’s more," she whispered.

Lisa’s eyes darkened. "Don’t open it," she said quickly, stepping forward.

But Julie’s trembling thumb had already tapped the screen.

A second photo appeared — this one closer, crueler. The same woman now resting her head against Roman’s shoulder, her lips inches from his neck.

His eyes still closed, motionless, as if in deep, heavy sleep.

The world seemed to narrow into that image — everything else fading to white noise.

Julie’s breath hitched audibly, her body swaying before Azazel caught her by the shoulders.

"Julie— hey— look at me," he said sharply, his hands steady on her arms.

"Don’t believe what you see. That’s not him. It’s not what it looks like."

Denovan’s jaw tightened, his voice cold. "Enough. Whoever’s behind this is testing our patience."

Lisa’s composure cracked for a second — a flash of emotion behind her calm exterior.

She turned to one of the nearby guards. "Seal the upper wing. Now."

The guard bowed and hurried off.

Julie, still trembling, looked between them. "You all know something. Don’t you? About her. About Abigail."

No one answered at first. The silence was deafening.

Only the faint murmur of guests lingered in the background, unaware of the storm quietly forming at the edge of the ballroom.

Finally, Denovan spoke — his voice low, deliberate. "There are things better discussed in private."

Lisa’s eyes flicked to him — and that single shared glance between them said everything Julie needed to see.

It wasn’t surprise. It was acknowledgment. And behind it... regret.

Julie’s heart sank.

Ava looked between them helplessly, her fingers still gripping Julie’s hand.

Azazel’s face was rigid with conflict, his eyes darting to the staircase — toward where Roman should have been.

Lisa’s voice, when it came again, was gentle but final. "Julie, trust me. Roman is safe. We’ll handle this."

But as the chandelier’s light trembled faintly above them and the music swelled again in the distance, Julie’s mind was already unraveling, her heart torn between fear and disbelief — and that single haunting question echoing in her chest:

’ Who is Abigail... and what has she done to him.

---

And lastly, my lovely readers,

I may not be able to update Chapters every day for now because I have to sit for my tests and exams.

Please be patient with me — once I’m done, I’ll continue right from where we stopped.

In between, I’ll still try to squeeze in some time to write something for you.

Thank you so much for your understanding and supporting.