HIS TO COMMAND

Chapter5

Ashes and Lies

The steady beeping of machines echoed like a funeral drum in the sterile white hospital room. The air was heavy with disinfectant and despair, each breath catching like shards of glass in Emerald’s lungs. She stood in the corner, hands clasped tightly against her dress, watching a tragedy unfold before her eyes.

On the bed lay Ambrose Thorne, Roman’s father—the titan whose name had once shaken entire industries. Now he looked small, frail, a dying monarch clinging to the last threads of power. Tubes snaked from his body, monitors flashing numbers that meant everything to the sons at his side.

Roman stood like a statue of obsidian. His hand rested on the bedrail, knuckles white, jaw sharp enough to cut steel. His broad shoulders were rigid, his face carved into unreadable marble. Damien, by contrast, was undone—his younger brother’s eyes wet, lips trembling as he clutched their father’s hand.

“Dad… please,” Damien whispered, his voice breaking. “Don’t leave us.”

Ambrose’s labored breathing filled the silence, each inhale a battle, each exhale a surrender. The doctor checked the monitors, exchanged a look with the nurse, and quietly shook his head. Emerald’s heart sank.

“Time of death—” the doctor began, but the flatline cut him off. The piercing, endless tone sliced through the room.

“No!” Damien’s cry tore out of him as he collapsed over the bed, clutching his father’s arm. “Dad, wake up! Please, not yet—”

Roman didn’t flinch. His eyes narrowed, his mouth a grim line, but he didn’t shed a tear. Instead, he leaned down close to his father’s ear, as if delivering one last vow to the man who raised him.

“They’ll pay for this,” Roman murmured, his voice low, lethal. “Every last one of them.”

Emerald’s chest tightened. His words weren’t just grief—they were a promise of war.

---

That evening, the mansion was cloaked in mourning. Black drapes hung across the halls, servants whispered in corners, and tension filled the air like static. Emerald followed the hush of footsteps to the grand parlor, her chest tight with unease.

And then, like a sudden storm, Vanessa appeared.

Roman’s long-term girlfriend was radiant even in black. Her fitted dress hugged every curve, diamonds catching the dim light like shards of ice. But her beauty was a weapon, and her eyes were twin blades that cut through Emerald without mercy.

“Well, well,” Vanessa drawled, swirling a glass of wine in her hand. “The little Davis doll. Showing up at the Thorne mourning as if she belongs here.”

Emerald stiffened, lowering her gaze. She said nothing.

Vanessa smirked, stepping closer, her heels clicking across the marble like gunshots. “Your father’s mistakes… your pathetic little family… they’ve cost this household everything. You’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood.”

Emerald’s fingers twitched at her sides, but she held her silence, refusing to rise to the bait.

“Do you even understand what it takes to survive here?” Vanessa continued, her voice sharp, deliberate. “Power, influence… ruthlessness. Not whining about grief while the world moves on without you.”

Emerald took a slow breath, steadying herself, and for the first time, she lifted her chin. Her eyes didn’t meet Vanessa’s—they slid past her, calm but dangerous.

“Well,” Emerald said softly, her voice cold enough to frost the room, “if I ever learn to emulate you, I’ll make sure to teach the world just how hollow beauty can be.”

Vanessa’s smirk faltered, a flicker of confusion and irritation crossing her face. “What did you just—”

But Emerald didn’t wait for an answer. She turned gracefully on her heel, her dress sweeping the floor, and walked away. Each step was measured, deliberate—each one a reminder that she was not to be toyed with. Behind her, Vanessa’s glare burned holes into her back.

---

The next morning, Roman stormed into the boardroom like a thunderclap. Emerald sat beside her father, Leonard Davis, her heart pounding. The long oak table was lined with executives, shareholders, and lawyers, all watching with wide eyes as Roman slammed a file down in front of them.

“Here,” Roman said coldly. “The proof of your treachery. Fraudulent contracts. Stolen funds. You brought down my father’s empire with your cowardice.”

Leonard’s face was pale, his hands shaking. “I—I did what I had to. It was business—”

“It was betrayal,” Roman cut in sharply, his voice echoing. “And betrayal has consequences.”

Emerald’s heart hammered. She could no longer sit in silence, not while her father’s honor was trampled in front of strangers. She rose to her feet, fists clenched. “Enough!”

The room stilled. All eyes turned to her. Even Roman paused, his icy gaze narrowing as if daring her to continue.

“My father may have made mistakes,” Emerald said, her voice trembling but fierce. “But don’t you dare stand here and act like you’re some saint. You want revenge, Roman? Fine. But don’t rewrite the story to suit your rage. This isn’t justice—it’s cruelty.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Roman’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing. For a moment, Emerald thought he might strike her down with words sharper than any blade. But instead, he leaned back slowly, lips curving into something dark.

“Fiery,” he murmured. “Very unlike your father.”

His words were meant to belittle, but something flickered in his eyes—something that looked dangerously like interest. Emerald’s pulse stumbled. She had drawn Roman Thorne’s attention… and that was a dangerous thing.

---

That night, Emerald needed air, space, a moment to breathe. Slipping quietly from the Thorne estate, she made her way to her father’s house, intending to check on him briefly. But when she arrived, the house was empty—Leonard must have stepped out.

Not wanting to waste the moment, she wandered into his study. The room smelled of old books and dust, familiar and safe. Her eyes landed on stacks of documents and folders she had never noticed before. Something tugged at her instincts—something told her to dig.

Her fingers trembled as she opened the first file. Contracts. Legal papers. Agreements. And beneath it all, one truth revealed itself: a police report proving that her father might not be guilty of the accusations that had destroyed their family.

Her heart skipped a beat. March 18th. The same night her mother had been killed. Her father had been blamed—but the documents showed he had been cleared.

Emerald sank into the chair, clutching the papers to her chest. Tears blurred her vision. “All this time,” she whispered, voice shaking with grief and fury, “I’ve suffered for nothing.”

Her knees buckled, but inside her, a fire ignited. Rage, grief, and the fierce desire for justice mingled together. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to scream, or if she wanted to confront Roman with every tr

uth she had uncovered.

“One day, Roman Thorne… I’ll make you pay.”