Chapter6
1064 Words
The Weight of a Name
The funeral was over, but grief lingered like a shadow over every wall of the Thorne estate. The house stood still, too quiet, too clean, like the air was afraid to move. Roman Thorne hadn’t spoken to anyone since the burial. Not Damien, not the board members who flew in for condolences, and certainly not Emerald.
He sat in his father's study again—his sanctuary, his battlefield. The chair still creaked the same way it did when Ambrose Thorne used to sit there, lecturing Romans on legacy and responsibility. But now the chair was silent. Now, it belonged to the Romans.
A bottle of whiskey sat untouched beside a file labeled “Davis Partnership.” Roman stared at it like it carried a virus. That name. That damned name. The very letters made his chest tighten.
His jaw clenched as he remembered the trembling voice of Charles Davis at the front door. A man who once called himself a friend had shown up in a wrinkled suit, speaking of condolences as if that would bring Ambrose back. Roman had slammed the door in his face, and he would’ve slammed it a thousand more times if given the chance.
He wasn’t a man made for mercy.
And Emerald…
She’d been invisible since the funeral. Smart girl. She’d kept her head down, cleaning, cooking, doing what was expected. But Roman knew. He saw the defiance in her silence. She wasn't broken. Just waiting.
Damien barged into the study without knocking again. “So that’s it?” he asked, crossing his arms. “You're really going to cancel the deal with Alora’s company because of her last name?”
Roman didn’t look up. “I already did.”
Damien stared at him, frustrated. “You think Dad would’ve wanted this?”
Roman rose from the chair slowly, his voice low. “Dad died with the word ‘Davis’ in his mouth. That’s what I remember.”
“He died disappointed in both of us.”
Roman's eyes flickered with something unreadable. “Then I’m just living up to expectations.”
Damien shook his head and walked out.
---
Emerald was in the laundry room folding shirts when she heard two maids whispering.
"That girl’s sister got blacklisted. The whole project was shut down."
"Thorne’s orders. Cold as ice."
Her fingers paused mid-fold.
She didn’t need to ask. She knew.
Alora.
Her younger sister, too bright for her own good, had spent months preparing for that project. All those nights working late, skipping meals, fighting to be taken seriously.
Gone. Because of her.
Because she carried the Davis name.
Emerald felt the walls closing in again. She walked out to get air but didn’t make it far. Roman appeared at the top of the stairs, staring down at her like a warden, catching a prisoner sneaking out.
“What did you hear?” he asked.
She looked up, shaking slightly. “Alora. You ruined everything for her.”
He descended slowly, calm and terrified. “If your family hadn’t ruined everything for mine, maybe I would’ve cared.”
“She didn’t know. She was a child when it happened.”
“She’s old enough now to carry the consequences.”
“Is that what this is? Consequences?”
He stepped closer, invading her space. “This is restraint. You haven’t seen the consequences yet.”
Emerald's throat went dry. She wanted to scream. But she didn’t. She turned and walked away. That hurt more than yelling ever could.
---
Later that night, Roman stood on the balcony with Damien’s words echoing in his ears. The wind was sharp, but he didn’t feel it. He was very lost in the fire.
In the room behind him, a letter sat open.
A letter from his father.
A letter that revealed more than Roman wanted to believe.
He wasn’t the only one who had secrets.
---
Downstairs, Emerald sat on her narrow bed, rubbing her palms together. Her eyes were dry, but her soul wasn’t.
She had to find something. Proof. Evidence. Anything to stop Roman from tearing apart the rest of her family. He was dangerous. Not because he yelled. But because he didn’t. Because he moved like a storm with no rain—quiet, cold, devastating.
She tiptoed into the study while he was out. Her heart thundered as she rifled through drawers, flipping through documents, invoices—until she saw a sealed envelope marked "To be opened only by Roman Thorne."
She paused.
Hands trembling, she opened it.
Inside was a handwritten letter from Ambrose Thorne.
> "If you're reading this, Roman, then I'm gone. I need you to know the deal with Charles Davis wasn't a betrayal. It was desperation. He was the only one who offered help without demanding ownership of our company. I asked him to hide it from you. I didn’t want you to hate him. But if you’re reading this now, it means I failed in shielding you from the truth."
Emerald clutched the letter in her chest. Her father had tried to save her mother. That deal was made in good faith.
Roman didn’t know.
But he would.
Just as she was sliding the letter back, she heard a noise.
Footsteps.
She darted behind the door, heart pounding. Roman entered moments later, looking tired and angry. He walked straight to the desk, checked the drawers, then paused.
The letter.
His fingers hovered.
Emerald slipped out quietly, unnoticed.
Or so she thought.
---
The next morning, Roman summoned her. She arrived, standing stiffly in front of his desk. He didn’t look up.
“You went somewhere last night.”
“I cleaned the west wing.”
“Lying doesn’t suit you.”
She said nothing.
“I want you out of the main house. Clean the lower floors. Stay away from the studies.”
“You think this scares me?” she whispered.
“No,” he said, finally looking up. “But it should.”
---
As she left, Damien entered, holding a tablet. “You’re giving me the automation branch?”
Roman nodded. “Full control.”
Damien frowned. “Why now?”
“You’ve earned it.”
Roman didn’
t say the real reason.
He needed Damien distracted. Away from Emerald.
Because things were getting dangerous.
And the past was clawing back to life.
- Writer
