Roman and Julienne's heart desire
Chapter 40: am i like such kind of prank or a jock in his eyes?

Chapter 40: am i like such kind of prank or a jock in his eyes?

"Who is she, and what takes them to the marriage registry?" someone said in his head.

A young woman sat alone in a grand room that oozed luxury, yet couldn’t mask the storm swirling inside her.

The space was drenched in opulence—ceiling-high velvet curtains of deep burgundy framed a pair of tall arched windows, their gold-tassel tiebacks falling gracefully to the side.

A shimmering crystal chandelier hung from the center of the tray ceiling, its prismatic light scattering across marble floors in a silent mockery of her misery.

The couch on which she sat was long and plush, upholstered in rich emerald-green velvet, trimmed with intricate gold carvings that curled like ivy at its legs and arms.

The cushions were a blend of silk and suede, too soft for comfort on a day like this.

Miranda reclined on the couch, her posture dramatically loose, head thrown back with her gaze fixed on the ornate ceiling above, as if it might offer answers.

Her eyes narrowed into slits—sharp, bitter, betrayed.

"I can’t believe this. If he loves another girl, why not say so? Why agree to marry me only to dump me on the day of the engagement? Is this some kind of twisted prank? Am I just a joke in his eyes?"

she whispered aloud, her voice echoing faintly against the polished stone surfaces.

Her words were no longer confined to thought—they clawed their way out, venomous and raw.

She clenched her fists, her manicured nails digging slightly into the shimmering satin fabric of her gown.

"How much did people talk behind my back, all because of him? How much did I suffer—humiliation, speculation—but he... he was out there living his perfect life with the one he loves.

" Her lips curled with distaste as she spat the last words, her frown deepening, marring her otherwise striking features.

She looked breathtaking even in her rage—dressed in an elaborate designer ensemble that screamed money and heartbreak.

A full-length, body-hugging dress of silver lamé hugged her curves with scandalous precision.

Tiny crystals were embroidered into the fabric, catching the light like frozen tears.

The neckline plunged daringly, while the back was completely bare, revealing the delicate curve of her spine and the glint of a thin diamond chain draped from shoulder to shoulder.

Her high-heeled stilettos—custom Louboutins in jet black with ruby red soles—rested on the gleaming floor like weapons ready for war.

Around her neck hung a choker of white gold and sapphires, a family heirloom she had worn thinking it would be a day of celebration. Now it felt like a shackle.

Miranda. It was none other than her—the girl who was said to be engaged to Roman before he shattered the illusion and vanished without so much as a warning.

"He was so charismatic... his shoulders straight that night..." she murmured, her mind drifting unwillingly to that haunting evening.

The night she thought she would become the fiancée of the city’s most powerful, enigmatic bachelor.

The way Roman had walked into the engagement hall, commanding the room like a king... only to walk out and leave her standing alone in the spotlight.

"Mom, let’s hurry up. We shouldn’t be late," Miranda said abruptly, her voice sharp as she stood, snapping out of the spiral.

She adjusted her dress with a flick of her wrist and gestured toward the waiting door, where her parents lingered awkwardly.

"Miranda, don’t be in a hurry," her mother chided gently, adjusting the diamond bracelet on her wrist.

"And secondly—he should be the one waiting. Let him wait.

No matter what, we’ll go there, and the engagement won’t be cancelled just because we’re late, right?"

Her mother smiled, unable to hide her admiration for the breathtaking daughter standing before her.

Miranda stood tall, exuding confidence like a queen ready to claim her throne.

"Children these days," she mused, hands on her hips.

"You’re even happier and more eager than your parents. Urging us to leave early, hmm... life," she said with a nostalgic sigh.

A firm knock echoed from the door.

"Dear, are you ready?" a warm, steady voice called from outside.

"Come in, Father," Miranda said, adjusting her posture, her chin slightly lifted.

The door creaked open and Mr. Remy stepped in—but immediately stopped in his tracks as his gaze landed on his daughter.

His expression softened with overwhelming emotion.

"Oh, my dear..." he whispered.

He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her.

Miranda smiled from ear to ear as she embraced her father, who fought the tears pooling in his eyes.

"My daughter... don’t worry. You made the right choice agreeing to marry him," he said, gently stroking her hair.

"Yes, yes," her mother chimed in, unable to contain her excitement.

"No matter what, he’s rich. Can you believe I’ll be in-laws with the most powerful man in the city? And just imagine—you’ll be married to him!"

"Our company will become influential too, right?" she added, her eyes gleaming with ambition.

"Yes, Mom. Don’t worry. Once I’m engaged to him and we spend time together, I’ll find a way to talk to him about our company. I’ll make sure he helps us,"

Miranda said, flashing a dazzling smile, her confidence unshakable.

"That’s my good daughter," Mr. Remy said, beaming with pride.

After a smooth drive through the city’s upscale district, the Remy family’s luxury car pulled up in front of the Thompson family mansion, a towering estate that looked more like a palace than a residence.

The grounds were flooded with glittering lights, expensive cars, and guests dressed in designer attire.

The air buzzed with anticipation—not just for the bride-to-be, but for him—Roman Thompson, the king of the business world.

Miranda had imagined him waiting at the steps, offering his hand with his signature charm.

But when she stepped out of the car and looked around, her heart dropped. He wasn’t there.

Her smile faltered for half a second, but she quickly raised her chin, fixed her posture, and walked with graceful arrogance.

If she couldn’t be the happiest, she’d at least be the most powerful-looking woman in the room.

And my, did she look the part.

Miranda was dolled up like a porcelain queen in a custom-made engagement gown that glittered like stardust.

The dress was a shimmering blend of silver and champagne-gold, encrusted with thousands of micro-crystals that caught every glimmer of light and reflected it back tenfold.

It clung to her body like it had been poured on, hugging every curve with couture precision.

The corset bodice lifted her bust and cinched her waist so tightly it looked like she had been sculpted.

The gown flared into a long, flowing mermaid train, embellished with lace and beadwork imported from Italy.

Her makeup was lavish and theatrical—a full glam look that made her look like a porcelain doll carved from money and ambition.

Her skin was airbrushed to flawlessness, her foundation a pale matte that masked every pore.

Heavy contouring carved sharp cheekbones into her face.

Her eyes were rimmed with thick, winged eyeliner, false lashes so long they brushed the tops of her brows, and silver shimmer shadow that matched her dress.

Her lips were painted a glossy cherry red, overlined to perfection.

Highlighter sparkled on every high point of her face.

Not a single hair on her head was out of place—her long brunette locks were curled into cascading waves, pinned to one side with a glittering hair comb that matched her earrings.

Her diamond necklace sat tightly around her throat like a jeweled collar, and her heels were towering stilettos that made her walk look like a practiced waltz.

Inside the mansion, eyes turned to her as she entered. Whispers trailed her presence like perfume.

She walked with her head high, her face a flawless mask of elegance and superiority—except when she approached Roman’s family.

"Good evening, Grandma," she greeted with a warm, practiced smile.

Lisa, Roman’s sharp-eyed grandmother, looked her up and down. "Good evening, my dear. How are you doing?"

"I’m good, Grandma," Miranda replied sweetly.

But Lisa narrowed her eyes, not one to be easily fooled by glitter and charm.

"My dear... you dolled yourself up for this engagement, didn’t you?" she asked with careful restraint. "Isn’t it a little... much?"

Miranda’s smile froze. For a moment, she didn’t speak. Her eyes flickered, but she caught herself quickly and forced a soft laugh.

"Not at all, Grandma. I just like it this way," she said, her voice honey-sweet, though her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Lisa nodded politely. "Okay, since you like it," she said and turned to walk away.

But as soon as the old woman’s back was turned, Miranda’s expression twisted into a sneer. _{fre(e)webnove.l.c.om}

What an old woman. What’s it to her if I look like this? It’s my face. I don’t like interference.

Just as she turned to go, she came face to face with another woman—one with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue.

Roman’s aunt. The very woman who had encouraged her mother to push for this engagement.

"You should behave yourself," the woman whispered with a pointed look. "What if Grandma heard you sneering like that? You know you won’t be able to marry him if this blows up, right?"

Miranda blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Then she forced another smile, lips tight.

"I’m always on my best behavior," she replied, her voice like sugar laced with cyanide.

But behind that polished façade, cracks were forming.

Because Roman still hadn’t shown up.