SUPREME STYLIST: RETURN OF THE HUMILIATED GENIUS

Chapter 0006: Dreamer boy, she said

Rowan pressed forward to his room, the encounter with Joyce Lang still heavy in his heart. The card rested in his pocket, a weapon to reconstruct his life, and demolish everyone who looked down on his existence.

A light smile touched his lips, his mind reeling. "I need to tell Annabelle about this," he mentioned his girlfriend in his thoughts. "that I made it. I fucking made it!"

But the moment he stepped close to the door of his room, the exciting thoughts vanished. His brow knitted in confusion, staring at the slightly opened door where jumbled sound waves filtered out.

"Ouch...damn! You hit the spot..kill me..kill me..deeper..."

Rowan froze there, his mind racing. "I didn't leave the door open while leaving in the morning. Did thieves break inside my room?"

Rowan reached out, grabbing a close iron rod tilting on the wall. He gripped the iron rod tightly, his heart racing.

"Before the thieves escaped and.. whoever they're killing inside there or... maybe stabbing deeper...needs to be saved quickly."

He walked on his toe, each movement silent. The silence in the hallway was so heavy he could hear his own heart beating louder. Slowly, he pushed the door open with one hand, gripping the metal weapon with the other hand, ready to strike whoever invaded his room.

But the moment he stepped in, his feet glued to the marble in shock. The iron rod tilted in his hand.

Inside of his room, plunged into a dim ambiance, his vision channeled to the bed. His bed.

On top, the bed rocked violently beneath two people. Jagged breathing rippled in unsteady waves. The room smells of something cold...and something warm, something incomprehensive by Rowan.

But the only thing comprehensive, staring back at him on that bed was his girlfriend, Annabelle, stark naked, legs spread wide like she was taking in something bigger.

And his brother..No. Step-brother, Jack, was on top of her, diving in and out of her like a maniac.

Rowan's heart dropped.

"Annabelle?" He muttered, disbelieving.

They two were so caught up in their own world that they didn't notice his presence at the door.

"Annabelle!!!" Rowan yelled.

Jack jerked up, dragging his pants to his waist. Annabelle jumped up. She scrambled, yanking the bed sheet with a fast finger to cover up her nakedness. Cold sweats dripped from her body. Her chest fell and rose in ragged breathing.

"What the fuck are you doing in here, Row!" Jack hissed, the usual arrogance dripping in his voice with anger of the intrusion.

But Rowan didn't give him a damn glance. His gaze fixed on Annabelle who trembled at the corner like a faithful priest caught stealing from the offering box. Guilt and every other sorry emotions overwhelmed her.

Rowan took one step inside, his expression hard and unreadable.

"Annabelle." He called. Voice low. Still in shock. "this is what you do? Sleeping with him.. behind my back?"

"Him?" Jack snapped, stepping into his personal space. "did you just call me him?"

"I wasn't speaking with you. Step aside." Rowan snapped, throwing a dead glare.

Jack's anger and pride burned at the surface. He stepped right in front of Rowan, his chest heavy with the look of an overfed broiler chicken, staring him down like he was the same dust still at the bottom of his shoe, the same son treated as the bastard of the family. "What stuff do you think you're made of to speak to my woman like that??"

"Woman?" Rowan choked on the words. His gaze slid to Annabelle. Disbelief. Asking.

Like she suddenly got enchanted, Annabelle's guilt escaped like mist, replaced with firm resolve, disgusting glare.

"Listen Rowan. You're a good guy, but it's time I tell you this. I'm letting you know this not because I'm sorry about what I did, but because I deserve better and you of all people should know that,"

Rowan stared. He just stared at her.

"that I deserve a better man with original life and not some dreamers chasing the top with a talent that won't get anywhere."

Gulp!