Ophelia's face went ashen. She wanted to refuse, but without Rome's permission, who in this city would dare let her leave? Without his say-so, she couldn't collect her mother's belongings, couldn't even walk out of the city. She had no choice but to bide her time, waiting for the right moment to slip away.
Drawing a deep breath, Ophelia followed Baylor into the lounge. As she brushed past Chen, he caught her hand and discreetly pressed a small knife into her palm.
Moments later, the lounge door swung wide. Baylor held out a glass. "Miss Olson, try the special cocktail I had mixed just for you."
Ophelia regarded the drink, her voice cutting through the hush like a blade. "Mr. Gibson, you've seen a lot in your time and you're not the type to strong-arm anyone. I never took you for a man who enjoys forcing a woman."
"It's just a drink," Baylor shrugged. "We had a bet going. I might get a kick out of stealing something from Rome, but that doesn't mean I'd hassle a lady."
Reassured just enough, Ophelia downed the drink fast.
Baylor's interest sharpened. "You know, you're way more fascinating than Amber. Why not ditch Rome and join me instead?"
But Ophelia's fleeting relief twisted into panic as a storm erupted inside her. Baylor's voice faded to a distant buzz. She knew the drink had been spiked.
Baylor frowned, about to speak again, but Ophelia bit down on her lip, whipped out the knife, and stabbed it straight into her thigh. As blood bloomed through the fabric, she grabbed the bottle and smashed it over Baylor's head, the shatter bringing her senses back for a split second.
"I don't like you, and I don't like Rome," she spat. "You both treat women like toys, like I'm nothing but something to play with."
Before Baylor could even react, Ophelia stumbled out of the room. Her legs wobbled, still sluggish from the drug, but she used every ounce of strength to make it outside the club.
Near the entrance, her vision blurred and then landed on the familiar shape of a Rolls-Royce Phantom. As she faltered, the scent of cedar wrapped around her and Rome bent down to scoop her up, his voice calm and detached. "Call Dr. Fu."
"And let that idiot from the Gibson family know the Alps project is his," Rome added smoothly, his words slicing through the haze as Ophelia slipped into unconsciousness.
She woke in a high-rise apartment. The dose in Baylor's little concoction had been light—meant more for seduction than anything else. After the doctor worked on her, her body recovered, except for the knife wound in her leg.
When she cracked her eyes open, she overheard Chen and Rome talking about European business connections. "The crap Baylor spilled might actually be useful. Once we lock down Europe, the family elders will be green with envy. But poor Ophelia—she seemed so meek, yet she stabbed herself and took Baylor down like that."
"Are you sweet on her?" Rome asked, his voice flat.
Chen knew Rome's moods inside out and waved the idea away. "More pity than anything. Now that Amber's back, just let the girl go. She deserves her own life. Marry Amber, and keep Ophelia on the side if you have to. Oh, and that protective charm blessed by the master for Amber? Three million. A pretty generous move on your part."
Ophelia lay frozen, listening to every word, her stomach churning. Eyes shut, her lashes fluttered, giving away the turmoil inside—a bruising mix of defiance and despair.
Rome's words haunted her—she wasn't as important as Amber. Yet he wouldn't let her go, kept her leashed to him. Why?
He wouldn't let her leave, and whenever it suited him, he used her to shield his precious true love from blame. In his eyes, what was she? A pawn he could toss aside whenever he felt like it?
She had watched her mother suffer up close, trapped in Franco Adams' snare, forced into a life she never wanted. Ophelia swore she would never follow that same path. No matter what, she'd break free from Rome's grip.
After Chen left, Rome noticed Ophelia had come around. "Awake?" His voice stirred her from her daze, and she slowly opened her eyes.
Steadying herself, she answered, "Brother."
Rome looked away, handing her a bowl of oatmeal. "You feeling okay?"
Ophelia shook her head and took the bowl.
Rome reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch featherlight, and said softly, "What happened that day had its reasons. Chen and the others have handled everything. No one's going to hurt you. If Baylor gave you trouble, I'll deal with him, alright?"
Her hand trembled a little around the bowl, lashes casting shadows to hide the irony burning in her eyes. Baylor was scum, but wasn't Rome just as bad? He'd nearly thrown her to the wolves for his cherished one. Even now, with his reassurances, she no longer wanted a life decided by someone else.
"Thank you, brother," Ophelia replied quietly. "Miss Bishop is safe. That's what matters."
Rome kept his eyes on her, dark and unreadable, burning with a fierce, stubborn intensity.
"I figured you'd be upset."
"Not at all." Ophelia paused, forcing a smile. "If you feel bad about it, come with me to Dad's birthday soon."
She meant Franco Adams. In this world, power played a bigger role than feelings. Ophelia saw the whole ugly incident as leverage to reclaim her mother's belongings.
Rome's mood lifted, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "Alright."
His agreement brought Ophelia a wave of relief. She was about to speak when Rome's phone buzzed, the name "Amber" lighting up the screen.
