Chapter 79

The mansion was shrouded in silence, the type that seemed vibrant, pushing against Roseline as she walked through the corridors. Her steps made no noise on the soft carpet, yet each creak of the aged floorboards resonated in her thoughts like gunfire. The tiny bag hanging from her shoulder felt excruciatingly weighty, despite containing merely the necessities—a change of attire, her ID, and a few little keepsakes with emotional significance. She couldn’t afford any more risks; anything further would hinder her progress. 

Her phone vibrated lightly in her pocket. Roseline halted abruptly, her breath stuck in her throat. She cautiously retrieved it, her hands shaking as she read Sam's note: “The secure location." Midnight. "Take caution." 

Exercise caution. As if being careful could protect her from the tempest that was forming. 

She shoved the phone into her pocket and tiptoed to the rear staircase, her actions deliberate and measured. Every step down drew her nearer to liberation, yet it also edged her closer to the risk of being found out. She kept looking over her shoulder, her anxiety intensified by the heavy influence of Ronaldo’s presence, which felt to persist even when he was absent. 

At the base of the staircase, the route to the rear entrance extended like a rescue line. The chilly surface of the door handle felt like a promise—just a turn, and she’d escape this confinement. Only a couple of additional steps. 

Her hand moved toward the handle, her heart pounding against her chest, the noise so intense she worried it could disturb everyone in the house. She turned it slowly, the soft sound of the lock releasing causing her to flinch. When the door opened, the brisk night breeze flowed inside, bringing with it the aroma of moist soil and liberation. 

A moment later, she noticed him. 

Ronaldo was positioned at the entrance, his figure striking and formidable in the moonlight. He was dressed in a dark suit, as though he had been expecting her. His face was shrouded in darkness, yet she sensed his stare—chilling, scrutinizing, relentless. 

"Are you heading out, Roseline?" His voice was soothing, nearly tender, yet it bore the heaviness of a predator stalking its victim. 

Roseline gasped. Her thoughts raced for an alibi, a falsehood, anything that could help her. However, her body betrayed her, tensing as her hand instinctively gripped the strap of her bag. 

Ronaldo's gaze shifted downwards, observing the bag. A slight smile played at the edges of his mouth, yet it lacked any warmth. "I was curious about how much time it might take," he remarked, moving nearer. His actions were purposeful and unrushed, similar to a cat playing with a mouse. "Every one of your small secrets, your faraway gazes, your quickened murmurs." Did you honestly believe I wouldn’t see?” 

"I'm simply—" she began, but her voice wavered. There was no reason to be dishonest. The truth was evident on her face, and Ronaldo was a man who excelled at spotting vulnerability. 

"Don't disrespect me," he interjected, his voice now slicing through her like a knife. “You weren't heading to the market or checking on an ill friend.” You were departing from me. “Slipping away like a burglar under the cover of darkness.” 

Roseline took a deep breath, urging herself to hold her position. “You are not my owner, Ronaldo.” 

The words escaped her lips before she could contain them, and for a brief moment, the only noise was the soft whispering of the wind among the nearby trees. His eyes grew dim, and his face transformed into a nearly unrecognizable look. 

“I don’t own you?” he repeated, his voice low but dangerous. “You’re my wife, Roseline. Everything you have—everything you are—is because of me.”

Roseline nodded her head in refusal, her hold on the bag becoming firmer. "I'm beyond being your property." "I possess the right to live my life and safeguard my child—” 

The words came out before she could prevent them. The atmosphere surrounding them changed immediately, becoming chillier and denser. Ronaldo's face went blank, his head leaning a bit as if he didn't catch what she said. “Your... child?” he echoed, his voice unsettlingly soft. 

Her blood became frozen. She had spoken excessively. The truth, which she had protected so vigorously, now hovered between them like a sword, its sharpness ready to wound her. 

“Is that what this concerns?” he inquired, moving even nearer. His tone was tranquil, yet his gaze was filled with a much more threatening intensity. "Are you expecting a baby?" 

Roseline stepped back, her breathing becoming faster. Her thoughts hurried, looking for a means to divert, to flee. However, she realized that the opportunity had passed. He had her trapped, and the truth could not be denied any longer. 

“I—” she began, but he interrupted her with an abrupt laugh. It was frigid and devoid of humour, brimming with scepticism and anger. 

“And you believed you could simply... walk away?” he remarked, his tone escalating. "Accompanied by my child?" Did you believe I would allow you to leave through that door and vanish into the darkness? 

“It isn’t—” Roseline started, but Ronaldo’s look changed, and her voice trailed off. His eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting into a smirk. 

“It doesn’t belong to me, does it?” he asked, his voice soft yet laced with spite. The understanding came to him gradually, but once it arrived, it struck like a tsunami. His fists tightened by his sides, his body shaking with suppressed anger. “It belongs to him.” That scoundrel you’ve been seeing when I’m not around.” 

Roseline's quietness spoke volumes. 

The atmosphere surrounding them was electric, buzzing with the tension of unvoiced allegations and undeniable realities. Ronaldo's breathing was sharp and controlled, with his composure starting to falter. 

"You've embarrassed me," he stated, his tone quiet and menacing. "However, I assure you, Roseline, you will come to regret this." 

He lunged toward her, his actions swift and hunting. Roseline responded automatically, moving back and wriggling free from his hold. Her heart raced as she zipped past him, making a frantic leap for the open door. 

Ronaldo’s hand darted forward, seizing her wrist with a firm grasp. She cried out in agony, fighting against him, but his power was too much. 

“You believe you can escape from me?” he whispered, his face close to hers. "Do you believe I'll let you escape that easily?" 

The noise of nearing footsteps shattered the tension, capturing both their eyes toward the dimly lit garden. Ronaldo’s hold relaxed slightly, allowing Roseline to pull her hand away and step back unsteadily. Her heart surged with hope when she spotted the silhouette entering the faint light. 

“Allow her to leave,” Sam stated, his tone calm, though his eyes blazed with suppressed fury. 

Ronaldo straightened up, his face transforming into one of icy deliberation. He didn’t let go of Roseline, but his hold loosened even more. "Ah, the gallant knight in gleaming armour," he said with sarcasm. "Have you come to rescue the maiden?" 

"This stops here," Sam declared, moving another step ahead. He stood with a tense posture, prepared for a confrontation. 

Ronaldo grinned a perilous sparkle in his gaze. “There's one thing you’re correct about,” he replied, his voice icy. "It concludes at this moment." "For you." 

Before Roseline could react, Ronaldo pulled something from his pocket. The glint of metal under the moonlight was unmistakable—a gun. Her scream tore through the night as Ronaldo raised it, aiming straight at Sam.