Chapter 5 - THE PHOTOGRAPH ON THE MANTEL
Roman’s icy pale eyes followed the little girl as she returned to the hearth. He felt like a stranger in his own ancestral home—a ghost who had walked back into a world that had not only moved on without him, but had rebuilt itself into something infinitely superior in his absence.
His gaze drifted from the children up to the high, carved marble mantelpiece above the fireplace in the sitting room.
Sitting between two polished brass candlesticks and a cluster of colorful children's crayon drawings was a single, small silver photo frame.
The frame was tilted slightly toward the center of the room, catching the warm light of the fire.
Roman walked past Evelyn's desk without a word, his long dark overcoat brushing against the mahogany edge. He stepped through the open double doors into the sitting room, his boots making no sound on the thick plush carpet.
The children looked up at him briefly. The four-year-old dark-haired boy stared at Roman’s face with quiet, unblinking curiosity, showing no fear, before turning back to his wooden train set.
Roman reached the hearth. He extended his right hand, his leather-wrapped fingers reaching up toward the silver frame.
"Roman."
Evelyn's voice cut through the warm room like a whip crack.
Roman’s hand froze two inches from the silver frame.
He turned his head slowly over his shoulder.
Evelyn had stood up from her desk. She was standing in the doorway of the sitting room, her posture straight as an arrow, her hands clasped lightly in front of her cream knit dress.
Her tone was no longer dry or sarcastic. It was cold, sharp, and commanding—a tone that demanded immediate, absolute compliance.
Roman slowly lowered his hand, turning his full body around to face her.
"What haven't you told me?" Roman asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Evelyn held his gaze for several agonizing seconds. The wind outside slammed against the thick, reinforced glass of the bay windows, but inside, the fire crackled softly, sending orange sparks dancing up the chimney.
She took a slow, deliberate breath, her blue eyes locking onto his pale gray ones with an unyielding intensity.
Before she could speak, a small, clear child's voice called out from the far end of the upstairs hallway:
"Mom?"
Roman froze.
The voice hadn't come from the two children playing on the rug before the hearth. It had come from above—from the master bedroom suite on the second floor.
May you like
Roman slowly turned his head upward toward the ceiling, his jaw clenching so hard that a muscle flexed violently along his cheekbone.
Evelyn’s face became completely unreadable, her expression settling into a quiet, impenetrable mask as Roman slowly turned back toward her, realizing that the house he had returned to held secrets far deeper than a restored roof and a warm fire.
