2026-02-11 15:44:51Roman had imagined this day for three whole years.
It was meant to be grand. He wanted something small, a moment that belonged just to the both of them.
He couldn't help imagining how Mira’s brows would knit when she was surprised.
The pause before she smiled, the softness that would return to her eyes once she realized he had never stopped striving for her, for the company, for the life that had been taken from her piece by piece.
The American Express card laid in the inside pocket of his worn uniform jacket.
Black. Minimal. Worth more than it looked.
It had cost him everything, sleepless nights, pride, years of swallowing insults without lifting his head.
With it, Mira could buy back the shares her uncle had seized when he pushed her out of the CEO’s office and reduced her to a normal employee in the company that belonged to her dad. Being less educated in this field, he hired another CEO to take charge while he ruled from the background.
Roman wanted to give it to her today.
Their third wedding anniversary.
Ever this happened, it had affected her happiness and this caused them the sweet bloom of their marriage. Here, he intended to remind her quietly that he was not useless.
As he pushed the garbage cart through the lobby, heads turned. They always did. He was the lowest of the low in the company.
The janitor. The trash collector.
Mira Donaldson's husband, the most ironic joke in the building.
He ignored them as always.
However, today, something felt off.
The executive floor was crowded. Employees gathered in clusters, excitement humming through the air.
Phones held up their phones from a distance. For those faces that turned, the smiles were wide.
“Something is definitely going on,” he said within himself. Because he's regarded as nothing, no one cared to tell him.
The closer he went, it became obvious that this was a proposal as there were flowers everywhere, far too many flowers lined up along the hallway leading to the conference room.
Roman footsteps slowed down.
His heart suddenly started beating rapidly.
He had a bad feeling about everything.
He followed the sound of applause.
And then he saw her.
His wife, Mira stood in the center of the room, radiant in a cream colored dress that hugged her curves like a second skin.
For a fleeting second, the world went blurry. He stood breathless, rubbing his eyes to check if he's just imagining things.
It was real.
Roman looked before her. The man kneeling in front of her.
Her acclaimed best friend, Mario.
Time still.
Mario held a velvet box open in his hands. Inside, a diamond ring glittered.
“Mira Donaldson,” Mario said, his voice echoing amidst the cheers of everyone around them. “will you marry me?”
Cheers exploded.
“Say yes!”
“Say yes!”
“Say yes!”
They cheered, clapped, others stood by the side watching quietly but with supporting smiles on their faces.
Roman was shocked.
He had never seen such a thing before. People supporting the proposal of a man to a married woman.
He stepped forward, unable to bear this in silence.
The wheels of the cart squeaked as he pushed it forward, drawing attention towards him. A few people noticed him and snorted.
“What’s the trash guy doing here?”
“Is he lost?”
Roman ignored them.
“Mira,” he called out in a gentle voice he had always used to speak to her.
Mira turned and suddenly annoyance flickered across her face, her eyes turned colder.
“What are you doing here?” she snarled.
Roman ached a brow in shock. “Don't tell me he's proposing to you….. a married woman?”
“Are you blind?” Mira barked while Mario burst out into laughter.
Roman’s eyes drifted to him. “You’re proposing to my wife. How dare you do that?”
“Why won't I?” Mario hissed. “I'm even helping you, you ungrateful asshole.”
“How?” Roman snarled, palms fisted.
“When you can't take care of the woman you call a wife?”
Roman went speechless. The crowd booed.
Mario crossed his arms, openly amused. “Man, have you looked at yourself? What exactly do you have to offer her, huh? You can’t even offer yourself dignity.”
“You’re married,” Roman said. “Please come back to me.” The hurt could be detected from his voice.
Mira laughed, clapping.
“Married?” she scoffed. “If you think I wanted to marry someone like you, you’re delusional.”
His jaw dropped.
“You were nothing but a scholarship student,” she continued. “I was your best friend and only that. My granddad forced me to marry you!” Her voice rang sharp and firm.
“All these years I've been enduring living in the same house with a mouse-smelling garbage man.”
“Urgh! Really?” Roman's voice tinted with cold fury suppressed to shock, with the earnest feeling that this is a prank. He honestly loved her and didn't envisage this happening at the moment he wanted to make her happy.
“When the company fell apart,” Mira went on, “You couldn’t save it. I was humiliated. Stripped of my position. And you?” She looked him up and down. “You could do nothing. Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life with such a husband?”
Mario slid an arm around her waist. “She deserves better,” he said smugly.
“Someone of her level. Someone who can actually provide for her.”
Mira nodded. “I need a man above me,” she said. “Not someone I have to carry.”
Roman listened to every word without flinching. It was no longer a joke. Her eyes, her words and his said everything.
He felt like the American Express card could burn a hole in him should she have it.
“Honestly, with this, you don't deserve it.” The decision was made already, within him while standing still.
“I understand,” he said out, though quietly. Then he turned to leave.
Mira narrowed her eyes, still. Suspense rushed through her veins, but not enough to overwhelm her burning desire for Mario.
“Roman,” she called.
He stopped but didn’t turn.
She stepped closer, her voice lowering, a smile curling her lips. She placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning closer and for a moment, it felt right.
Like a prank.
“There’s a solution that benefits everyone.”
Roman turned to face her slowly. “What solution?”
She met his gaze, eyes sharp. “An open marriage.” Roman jerked off her grip. She grinned. “You stay where you are. Mario and I…live together.” Her words came louder than normal.
The room erupted into shocked murmurs.
“Ridiculous!” He growled with fury but managed to control himself.
“No problem!” He smirked, walking off leaving everyone staring.
In shock.
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Chapter 133
The envelope showed up with no courier label, no sender details, only a silver seal Roman recognized at once. The mark of Greaves International, the private intelligence agency that dealt with problems too sensitive for official systems. Its director, Marcus Vane, still carried a debt to Roman that could never truly be settled. Six years earlier, Roman had saved his daughter during a kidnapping case that never reached the press. Messages from Vane were rare, and when they came, it was never good news.Roman opened the seal alone in his study. Inside was just one typed sheet, it was plain, stripped of anything unnecessary, written in cold, clinical language.SUBJECT: Cross, Damian. Inmate #4471-K.FACILITY: Blackwood Containment Centre, Sector 4.INCIDENT: Coordinated breach. 6 days prior. Two security officers deceased. Three inmates hospitalised. Subject Cross extracted during medical transfer. Transport ambushed 50 miles from facility. All escort personnel lost. Current location: U
Chapter 132
“It was Reuben,” he said quickly. “My senior aide. My chief of staff.” His words came out fast, almost desperate, like speaking faster could reduce the damage.“He did it without telling me. He leaked the Elara story to hurt your infrastructure deal. He saw your campaign gaining support from that deal and thought destroying it would protect my position. He believed he was helping me.”Roman’s face stayed calm and unable to read. “Why would he think that?”Halden shut his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them again, the emotion was clear on his face, it was a deep shame, he felt exposed and open.“Because he was being paid. Holloway.”The name hit the room like something heavy was dropping into a still water.“Holloway got to him months ago. He paid him. Reuben had been feeding him information, influencing campaign decisions, and pushing me into choices that helped Holloway’s interests. I didn’t know any of it. I only found out after the story came out. By then, it was already t
Chapter 131
The rally was scheduled for the afternoon.Roman showed up at the venue by eleven. The stadium parking area was already packed with cars and people. Banners flapped in the morning wind while vendors lined the edges of the crowd, selling water, caps, and buttons featuring Halden’s face. At the north end of the grounds, a stage had been set up, complete with huge screens and speakers the size of small refrigerators. About fifteen thousand people were expected, and judging by how the crowd kept growing, that number would easily be reached.Roman went in through a side gate marked “STAFF ONLY.” Carlos followed closely behind him, walking just two steps back. A slim leather bag hung from Carlos’s shoulder. Inside that bag was a printed transcript.Carlos did not ask Roman what he planned to do with it. He never questioned him or tried to understand the details. In the car earlier, he had simply handed the bag over without a word, as if he already accepted that Roman had a reason for every
Chapter 130
The boardroom at Crestfield Group smelled of old wood polish and stale coffee. Twelve people sat around the long mahogany table, and not one of them looked comfortable. Smith sat near the middle, hands resting on a thin leather folder. He wore a grey suit and had arrived early. He spent those extra minutes sitting silently, watching the others file in.They knew who he worked for. Everyone in the room knew.Harold Vance, the chief financial officer, barely glanced at him. Gerald Crane, head of operations, shuffled papers loudly. Two junior board members looked at Smith like a door they had been told not to open. Smith gave no reaction. He had been a butler for twenty-three years. He knew how to sit still while being watched.Edward Finch, the chairman, called the meeting to order at ten. The agenda was routine for forty minutes. Revenue reports. Supply chain updates. A dispute with a shipping partner. Smith listened and said nothing. He took no notes. He didn't need to.When Finch ask
Chapter 129
Angela Webb, his chief legal counsel, was known for her speed and precision. She arrived in seventeen minutes with the agreement already pulled up on her tablet.“Clause nine,” Roman said as she entered.Angela was already in the room.“Non-disclosure,” she said without hesitation, scanning the document. “It’s broad and strict. It covers any public statements, interviews, written accounts, broadcasts, and social media posts involving Roman Walcott, Walcott Corporation, Walter Group, and all connected people or organizations. Mira Donaldson signed it as part of her early release from the legal case.”She paused and looked into his eyes.“It’s solid,” she continued. “Completely enforceable.”“Send a formal notice to The Meridian Pulse tonight,” Roman said. “If you have to, wake their legal team. Make it clear that airing any part of that interview breaks a binding legal agreement. The first step will be an injunction. After that, a lawsuit that will make their quarterly profits irreleva
Chapter 128
Mira said nothing for a few seconds. On the outside, the traffic was noisy through the city streets while the neighbor’s air conditioner continued its uneven dripping against the ledge.“How much are you offering?” she finally asked.A short silence followed after the question, the kind that sounded almost like someone smiling on the other end of the line.“Fifty thousand dollars,” Dana Reeves said. “It’s a fixed price. We record the interview, we manage the editorial framing, and you’ll have the right to review the primary quotations. It would go to broadcast within forty-eight hours of filming.”Fifty thousand dollars.Mira kept her eyes fixed on the grey brick wall beyond the window. Fifty thousand dollars. It was enough to cover months in this cramped apartment, a fragile buffer, but still a buffer. It wasn’t close to what she had once been used to, not even a shadow of it, but it was something real. Something that could start to shift the weight pressing in on her. It meant a li
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