ROMEO TRISTAIN'S PAYBACK

Chapter 4

Romeo tossed and turned in his narrow bed, the thin mattress creaking under him. His dreams were a jumbled mess, Madam Tracey’s cruel laughter, the mysterious woman’s voice calling him“Young master,” his mother’s gentle face stained with blood. His eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright, his heart racing. 

“That was a hell of a dream.” 

He muttered, rubbing his face, his amber eyes bleary in the dim morning light filtering through the cracked blinds.

The door creaked open, and Miss Valerie stepped in, her apron slightly askew, a warm smile on her tired face.

 “Oh, good morning, Romeo! You’re up early today. How was your night?” 

She asked, moving to the pile of clothes on the floor, scooping up his worn jeans and faded shirts into her laundry basket.

Romeo’s voice was rough, like someone just dragged from sleep. 

“Night was… good, I guess.” 

He said, pausing as he ran a hand through his messy hair. 

“I think.” 

His tone faltered, the weight of last night’s humiliation still clinging to him.

Miss Valerie glanced at him, her brown eyes softening with worry. 

“Don’t let it get to you, Romeo. Everything’s gonna be okay. Your uncle’s coming back from his business trip soon. Maybe Madam Tracey will ease up on you.” 

Her voice was hopeful, but they both knew better.

Romeo looked at her, then away, his jaw tight. Miss Valerie stepped closer, her tone turning playful, almost sarcastic, to lift his mood.

 “Come on, cheer up, kid!” 

She reached out and ruffled his hair, her touch light but kind. 

“Go freshen up. Dinner’s gonna be ready soon.”

A small smile tugged at Romeo’s lips. 

“What’re we having?” 

He asked, his voice a little brighter.

Miss Valerie, now three feet from the door, turned back with a grin.

 “Your favorite,spaghetti with that spicy sauce you love.”

Romeo’s smile grew, genuine for a moment.

 “Nice.” 

He said, but before Valerie could say more, Madam Tracey’s voice shrieked from downstairs. 

“Valerie!”

Miss Valerie’s face fell. 

“I gotta go. Freshen up, get ready for school. Don’t forget, today’s your final exam,you’re graduating tomorrow!”

 She hurried out, leaving Romeo wide-eyed.

“Final exam?” 

He muttered, slapping his forehead. 

“I totally forgot!”

 He jumped out of bed, his bare feet hitting the cold floor, and rushed to the bathroom. Two minutes later, he was out, a towel around his waist, water dripping from his dark hair. 

He grabbed his deodorant from the nightstand, gave a quick spray, and pulled on the college uniform Valerie had ironed and hung in his wardrobe,a crisp white shirt and navy slacks. 

He slipped on his worn sneakers, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and bolted out of the room, his heart racing as he headed for the dining room.

The smell of fresh bread and coffee filled the air as Romeo reached the dining table. The chef, a burly man with a kind face, was setting out plates of eggs and toast. 

“Morning, Romeo. ” 

He said, nodding. 

“How’s your night?”

“It was good.” 

Romeo replied, managing a small smile.

 “Thanks, Chef.”

“Enjoy your food, Sir Romeo.” 

The chef said with a grin, placing a plate in front of him.

Romeo chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Please, just Romeo’s fine.”

“Alright, Romeo.” 

The chef said, laughing as he headed back to the kitchen.

The moment of calm shattered as Madam Tracey and her best friend, Lady Gaga walked down the stairs, their laughter sharp and grating.

 “Can you believe Mrs Carlton’s nerve?” 

Madam Tracey said, her voice dripping with scorn. 

“Gifting me that cheap scarf at the party, like I’d ever wear it!” 

Lady Gaga cackled, her emerald-green dress swishing. 

“And that vase from the Petersons? I’d rather break it than display it!” 

They laughed harder, their voices bouncing off the walls as they descended, oblivious to Romeo’s presence.

He stood quickly, grabbing his backpack, and turned to them.

 “Good morning, Madam Tracey, Lady Gaga.” 

He said, his voice polite but strained, his eyes lowered.

Madam Tracey’s gaze raked over him, from his neatly pressed uniform to his scuffed shoes, her lips curling in disgust. She said nothing, brushing past him like he was invisible. Lady Gaga, smirking, took a seat at the table’s other end, her eyes flicking over him with disdain.

Romeo moved toward the dining room door, eager to escape, but Madam Tracey’s voice stopped him cold. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, you little brat?”

He froze, turning slowly. 

“I’m going to college.” 

He said, his voice steady but his heart pounding.

Madam Tracey leaned back in her chair, her smirk wicked. 

“Oh, you’ll go to your college, alright. But first, the house flowers need trimming, and the grass needs cutting. Get to it.”

Romeo’s face twisted in confusion. 

“That’s the gardener’s job. I’m not a gardener.”

Her smirk widened, her blue eyes glinting with malice. 

“I gave the gardener the day off. You’re on duty now. Go get to work if you don’t want to be late.”

Romeo’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. He wanted to argue, but her stare dared him to try. With a frustrated huff, he stormed out to the garden, the morning sun already warm on his back. 

The garden was a mess,overgrown bushes, tangled grass, and wilting flowers. He grabbed the shears and a rusty lawnmower from the shed, his movements quick but heavy with resentment. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he hacked at the bushes, the blades snipping unevenly, his college uniform sticking to his skin.

 The lawnmower sputtered as he pushed it across the patchy grass, his arms aching with each pass.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he paused, wiping his brow. The screen showed Ryan George’s name. 

“Yo, where are you at, man?” 

The text read. Romeo typed back quickly.

 “On my way.” 

His fingers smudged with dirt.

Miss Valerie appeared at the garden’s edge, her apron dusted with flour.

 “Romeo, give me those tools.” 

She said, her voice firm but kind. 

“Go to college. Now.”

He hesitated, glancing at the mansion. 

“But what if Madam Tracey finds out?”

“I don’t care what she does.”

Miss Valerie said, taking the shears from his hands. 

“You’ve got finals. Go.”

Romeo’s face broke into a grateful smile. 

“I owe you one, Miss Val.” 

He said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He sprinted out of the garden, down the mansion’s drive, and onto the street, waving down a yellow cab. 

“Gem City College.” 

He told the driver, who nodded and pulled away. Romeo paid the fare as they stopped, then jumped out, his sneakers hitting the pavement.

Ryan George was waiting outside the college’s main entrance, his blue eyes bright but anxious.

 “What’s up, bro? What took you so long?” 

He said, clapping Romeo on the shoulder.

 “The exam’s about to start, and there’s something you gotta see, like, now.”

Romeo frowned, following Ryan as they hurried through the college’s grand entrance, their footsteps echoing in the marble hallway.

 “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice tense.

Ryan didn’t answer, just led him through the crowded corridor. Romeo’s heart sank as his gaze fell on a scene that stopped him cold. Erica Trump, his fiancée, stood in the center of a gathered crowd, her blue eyes sparkling as Steven Jones, the playboy she’d called her “cousin,” knelt before her, a ring glinting in his hand.

“Erica Trump, do you accept me as your fiancé and your husband-to-be?” 

Steven asked, his voi

ce smooth, confident.

“Yes!” 

Erica said, her smile wide as the crowd erupted in applause, cheers echoing off the walls.

Romeo’s breath caught, his eyes wide with shock and confusion.

 “What on earth is going on?” 

He asked, his voice heavy with disbelief, the weight of betrayal crashing over him as he stared at the scene.