SEBASTIAN’S POV
I was sitting at the edge of my desk, leaning forward, my fingers drumming absently against the polished wood surface.
The soft tick of the clock on the wall filled the silence, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the tension simmering inside me.
My focus was split between the documents scattered across my desk and the endless flow of thoughts racing through my mind.
The moment Roland entered the room, his footsteps quiet but purposeful, I glanced up, instantly aware of the shift in the air.
Something about the way he carried himself struck me as odd-subtle, but not unnoticed. His shoulders were straighter than usual, his chin slightly lifted, and there was a peculiar gleam in his eyes.
“Sebastian,” Roland began, his tone measured, almost cautious, “I need a moment of your time.”
I tilted my head slightly, narrowing my eyes. Roland wasn’t one to tread lightly unless he had a reason. It wasn’t his style.
“What is it?” I asked, my voice calm but laced with curiosity.
He hesitated for just a beat, his lips pressing into a thin line before he exhaled and squared his shoulders.
“I need to leave,” he said simply, but there was an undertone of urgency in his words.
I raised an eyebrow, leaning back against my chair. “Leave?” I repeated, folding my arms across my chest. “And why exactly do you need to leave now?”
“It’s… my mother,” Roland replied, his voice steady, though I caught the faintest flicker of something-was it unease?-in his expression. “She says it’s urgent.”
I studied him carefully, my instincts pricking at the edges of my thoughts. Roland rarely mentioned his family, and when he did, it was never in the context of something urgent.
He was too composed, too practiced, for this to be coincidental. But I kept my expression neutral, masking the skepticism brewing inside me.
“Urgent, you say?” I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on the desk. “What exactly does she want?”
“She didn’t go into details,” Roland said, shifting on his feet. “Only that I needed to come immediately.”
I didn’t respond right away, letting the silence stretch between us as I scrutinized him.
Roland met my gaze evenly, but I could sense the layers of guardedness beneath his calm exterior. He was holding something back-something he didn’t want me to know.
“And this couldn’t wait?” I asked finally, my tone cool, measured.
“It seems not,” he replied, his jaw tightening just enough to be noticeable.
There it was again, that subtle tension, the quiet storm behind his words. I had known Roland long enough to recognize when he wasn’t telling me the full truth.
But I also knew better than to press him when he wasn’t ready to divulge. Pushing too hard would only make him retreat further.
I exhaled through my nose, leaning back once more. “Fine,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “Go, if it’s so urgent.”
For a fleeting moment, Roland’s composure slipped, and I caught a glimpse of relief flickering across his face. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual stoicism.
“Thank you,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “I appreciate it.”
I didn’t respond, watching as he turned to leave. But something about the way he moved-the deliberate pace, the stiffness in his shoulders-made me call out after him.
“Roland,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet.
He stopped in his tracks, his back to me, before turning around slowly. “Yes?”
“When will you be back?” I asked, my tone casual, though my eyes were sharp, watching him closely.
His lips twitched, as though he were suppressing a grimace.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted, his voice steady but lacking the usual confidence. “It depends on how things unfold.”
I nodded slowly, though the ambiguity of his answer did little to ease my suspicions. “Very well,” I said, my tone even. “Let me know if anything changes.”
“Of course,” Roland replied, offering a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you again.”
And with that, he turned and walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.
I stared at the closed door for a long moment, the weight of unease settling heavier on my chest. Something didn’t sit right with me about Roland’s sudden departure.
I trusted Roland or at least,
I wanted to believe I did. He had proven himself loyal time and time again, always by my side when it mattered most.
But even the most trustworthy allies had their secrets, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that Roland was keeping something from me.
I turned my chair toward the window, my gaze drifting to the cityscape beyond. The late afternoon sunlight bathed the buildings in a warm golden hue, casting long shadows that stretched across the streets below.
It was a beautiful view, one I often found solace in, but today it offered no comfort. My mind was too preoccupied, too restless.
What was Roland hiding? And why now, of all times?
I ran a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. There were too many moving pieces, too many uncertainties.
Sasha’s sudden coldness, the mysterious photos that had surfaced, the whispers of threats lurking in the shadows, it was all piling up, each issue demanding my attention.
And now Roland, my most trusted confidant, was leaving on vague terms, his motives shrouded in ambiguity.
The weight of it all pressed down on me, but I refused to let it show. Weakness wasn’t an option, not in my world.
I had built my empire on the foundation of strength and control, and I couldn’t afford to let cracks form in that foundation now.
Still, the nagging sense of unease persisted, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. I needed answers, but for now, I would have to wait.
Roland would return eventually or at least, I hoped he would. And when he did, I would be ready to uncover whatever it was he was keeping from me.
For now, there were more pressing matters to attend to. I turned back to my desk, reaching for the stack of documents that awaited my attention.
The world wouldn’t stop turning just because I had questions. If anything, it was a reminder that in this life, there was no room for hesitation.
But as I picked up the first document, my mind couldn’t help but drift back to Roland’s parting words.
“It depends on how things unfold.” What exactly was unfolding? And what role would it play in the storm that was already brewing?