CHAPTER 158
ROMEO POV
The air on the top floor of the house was typically sterile, silent, and thick with the scent of expensive polish.
Tonight, as the elevator doors whispered open, I dragged in the heavy, metallic stench of fresh blood and dry earth. It was almost midnight.
Below me, the last of the glittering façade of my forgotten engagement party was being dismantled.
I could hear the faint, muffled hum of the cleaning crew—a symphony of efficiency scrubbing away the public humiliation I'd made.
My dark suit, tailored a mere twelve hours ago, was now a wreck. The left shoulder was torn, the dark fabric stained crimson and slick with mud that had dried hard against the wool.
My knuckles were split, and my jaw ached from clenching it for four continuous hours. I should have been downstairs fake smiling at investors, receiving congratulations, and enduring the polite conversation of Marina Valerio's father.
