When Caesar Met Cinderella

Chapter 9：The Skeptical Stepmother

Emily’s apartment was a small, two-bedroom affair in a quiet suburban block. It was nothing grand, but it was hers, a space filled with her own clutter and a comforting sense of familiarity. As she unlocked the door and ushered Hadrian inside, he looked around with a more measured curiosity than he had displayed in her father’s flat. Perhaps the slightly more spacious layout and the absence of immediate, overwhelming sensory input were less jarring.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Emily said with a slightly self-deprecating smile. “It’s not quite a Roman villa, but it’s home.”

Hadrian surveyed the living room, his gaze taking in the worn sofa, the overflowing bookshelves, and the slightly chaotic collection of cushions. “Humble, perhaps, but… functional. And certainly more spacious than your father’s… chamber.”

“Yeah, well, it’s just me here usually,” Emily explained, gesturing towards the kitchen. “Make yourself at home. I’ll put the kettle on.”

Hadrian observed her movements with interest as she navigated the small kitchen, her actions swift and efficient. He still seemed fascinated by the simplest of modern conveniences, watching the electric kettle heat water with an almost scientific intensity.

They spent a relatively peaceful afternoon. Emily showed Hadrian more of her “technology” – the television (which he found utterly bewildering), the microwave (which he regarded with deep suspicion), and the wonders of running water on demand. He asked fewer questions, seeming content to observe and absorb his surroundings.

As evening approached, Emily started thinking about dinner. She’d planned on a simple pasta dish, but a sudden wave of anxiety washed over her. She’d completely forgotten that she’d told her stepmother, Carol, that she might pop over for the weekend. Carol lived nearby and often visited Arthur, especially on weekends. The thought of introducing Hadrian to Carol, who possessed a healthy dose of cynicism and a sharp, no-nonsense attitude, filled Emily with dread.

Her fears were realized sooner than she expected. Just as Emily was chopping vegetables, the doorbell rang. “Oh, great,” she muttered under her breath, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “That’ll be Carol.”

She opened the door to find her stepmother standing on the doorstep, a small bag of groceries in her hand and a concerned expression on her face.

“Emily, love! I thought I might find you here. How’s your dad?” Carol asked, stepping inside. She was a woman of practical sensibilities, with a keen eye and a no-nonsense demeanour that could be both comforting and slightly intimidating.

“He’s… okay,” Emily said, trying to sound casual. “A bit up and down, you know.”

Carol nodded sympathetically, then her gaze fell upon Hadrian, who was standing in the living room, observing them with a polite but slightly aloof expression. Carol stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening in surprise and then narrowing with suspicion.

“And… who might this be?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral, but with an underlying tone of alarm.

Emily braced herself. “Carol, this is… Hadrian. He’s a… friend of Dad’s. He’s staying with me for a bit.”

Carol’s eyebrows shot up. She looked from Hadrian, dressed in Emily’s slightly too-large clothes, to Emily, and back again. “A friend of Arthur’s? I don’t think I’ve ever heard him mention a Hadrian.” Her gaze lingered on Hadrian’s somewhat regal posture and his dark, intense eyes.

Hadrian, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, stepped forward with a slight bow. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam. I am Hadrian.” He offered a small, formal nod.

Carol remained unmoved. Her eyes narrowed further, and she folded her arms across her chest. “Right. And how exactly do you know my father-in-law, Hadrian?”

Emily jumped in quickly. “It’s a long story, Carol. He… he needed a place to stay, and Dad was very insistent…”

Carol’s gaze sharpened. “Insistent? Arthur’s been confused lately, Emily. Are you telling me this man just… turned up?” She looked at Hadrian again, her suspicion growing. “You’re not one of those… care home con artists, are you? Trying to weasel your way into his good graces?”

Hadrian looked genuinely bewildered by the accusation. “Con artist? I assure you, madam, I am no such thing. I am…” He hesitated, catching Emily’s warning glance. “…a guest of your family.”

Carol wasn’t buying it. She turned to Emily, her voice low and serious. “Emily, be straight with me. What’s going on? This doesn’t feel right. You wouldn’t be trying to… take advantage of Arthur, would you? Not after everything?”

Emily felt a flush of anger rise in her cheeks. “Carol! That’s a horrible thing to say! I would never…”

“Then what is this all about?” Carol demanded, her gaze fixed on Hadrian. “Who is this man, really? And why is he here?”

Hadrian, sensing Emily’s distress and perhaps recognizing the woman’s protective instincts, decided to intervene. He reached inside the pocket of the tracksuit bottoms and pulled out the small, intricately carved gemstone ring he had been carrying since his arrival. It was one of the few personal possessions he still had.

He held it out towards Carol, the single ruby catching the light. “Madam,” he said, his voice calm and sincere, “I understand your suspicion. My arrival has been… unconventional. But I assure you, my intentions are honourable. I am, in truth, a traveler from a distant land. One day, I hope to return to my home. When I do, I shall remember the kindness your family has shown me. And I shall ensure that you are rewarded handsomely for your hospitality.”

He stepped forward and gently placed the ring in Carol’s outstretched hand. The ruby glinted, a small spark of ancient craftsmanship in her palm.

Carol stared at the ring, her initial suspicion momentarily wavering. It looked old, and undeniably valuable. But then, her gaze hardened again. She looked from the ring to Hadrian, her expression a mixture of pity and utter disbelief.

“A distant land?” she repeated, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Right. And what land would that be, exactly? Narnia? Middle-earth?” She shook her head, a humorless laugh escaping her lips. “Emily, I swear, sometimes I think you attract every oddball in London.”

She looked at Hadrian again, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and exasperation. “Look, mate,” she said, her tone softening slightly, “I don’t know what your game is, but I’m telling you right now, you’re barking up the wrong tree if you think you’re going to get anything out of Arthur. He’s not got much left, and what he does have is going to Emily and Kevin and Tiffany, fair and square.”

Hadrian looked genuinely confused by her words. “Kevin and Tiffany? Are these more of your… offspring?” he asked Emily.

“My step-siblings,” Emily clarified, rolling her eyes.

Carol ignored him, her focus entirely on Hadrian. “And this ring…” She held it up, examining it closely. “It’s probably fake anyway. Some cheap bit of costume jewellery.”

“Fake?” Hadrian repeated, a hint of his imperial indignation creeping into his voice. “This ring has been in my family for generations! It is crafted from the finest ruby mined in the eastern provinces!”

Carol snorted. “Eastern provinces? Right. Look, mate, I’ve seen enough. You’re clearly not well. Emily, you need to get this man some help. He’s completely delusional.” She turned to Hadrian, her voice firm. “You need to leave. Now. I’m not having you upsetting Arthur and causing trouble.”

Emily stepped forward, placing a hand on Carol’s arm. “Carol, please, just listen…”

“No, Emily, I’ve heard enough,” Carol interrupted, her voice rising. “This is ridiculous. You bring some random man into your apartment, claiming he’s a friend of Dad’s, and he’s handing out fake jewellery and talking about distant lands. It’s not right. It’s just not right.”

She looked at Hadrian again, her expression now a mixture of anger and genuine concern for Arthur. “You’re a fraud, mate. A complete and utter fraud. And frankly,” she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I think you’re trying to take advantage of Arthur’s illness to get your hands on his inheritance. Well, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Hadrian stared at Carol, his initial bewilderment hardening into a regal disdain. This woman, so quick to judge, so utterly lacking in understanding of his true station. Her accusations were not only insulting but also profoundly misguided.

“Woman,” Hadrian said, his voice low and steady, carrying a hint of the authority that once commanded legions, “you speak of things you do not comprehend. My intentions are not driven by such base concerns as… inheritance. When I return to my rightful place, the rewards I bestow will be of a magnitude you cannot possibly imagine. Your suspicion is… tiresome.”

Carol simply stared back at him, her mouth slightly agape. Then, she shook her head slowly, a look of utter disbelief on her face.

“Oh, you are completely mad,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Utterly, totally, barking mad.” She turned to Emily, her eyes wide with alarm. “Emily, you need to get him out of here. He’s not just a con artist, he’s a lunatic. A proper, certifiable lunatic.”

The weekend had barely begun, and already, Hadrian’s presence had ignited a domestic storm. Emily knew that convincing Carol of the truth, whatever that truth might be, was going to be a monumental task. And as she looked from her stepmother’s horrified face to Hadrian’s haughty, bewildered expression, she couldn’t help but wonder if bringing a Roman Emperor to suburban London was the most spectacularly ill-conceived plan she had ever had.