Roman and Julienne's heart desire
Chapter 69: And that young woman,happens to be mine

Chapter 69: And that young woman,happens to be mine

Faded as Julie shut off the faucet. She stared at her reflection in the mirror—eyes red-rimmed, cheeks pale, and her lips pressed together like they were holding in a scream.

She splashed one last handful of cold water on her face, willing herself to breathe. Just breathe.

Whatever this is... just face it.

She stepped out of the bathroom, brushing her damp palms against the sides of her skirt.

And then—

"Julie!"

A voice. Too close.

She blinked in surprise as a girl rounded the corner—one she vaguely recognized from the Faculty of Arts. Her eyes were wide, her breath rushed.

"They’re asking for you."

Julie stiffened. "Who?"

"The university heads. I think... the advisor’s office. They said to bring you. Now."

Julie’s heart dropped.

"Why?" she asked, voice thin.

The girl hesitated. "I... I don’t know. I think it’s about the video. Everyone’s been talking."

Julie didn’t say a word.

She couldn’t. _{freew\e bnovel.com}

She just turned her head slowly down the corridor, toward the administrative wing where the offices were.

Where the doors were closed. Where decisions were already being made without her.

Her stomach churned, a bitter taste rising in her throat. Her fingers clenched and unclenched by her side.

The hallway stretched ahead, impossibly long. Her footsteps echoed quietly against the gleaming floor as she walked, like the ticking of a slow, doomed clock.

Every student she passed turned to look.

Some pretended not to.

Some didn’t bother.

A few whispered.

By the time she reached the last corridor, Julie felt like she was walking through fog.

Her thoughts were scattered fragments, disjointed and looping—a kaleidoscope of fear, shame, confusion.

The doors loomed ahead like the entrance to a trial court. Cold, dark wood. Soundproof. Unforgiving.

Julie stood in front of them for half a second—just long enough to hear her own heartbeat—before a secretary inside pushed the handle open from within.

"She’s here," the woman said, stepping aside.

Julie walked in.

Silence fell instantly.

The conference room was sharp with tension. Long polished table, seven figures seated around it—each cloaked in formality and judgment.

The walls were paneled with mahogany and the air had that unmistakable sting of academic authority.

At the head of the table sat the university advisor, Mr. Kenneth Duro.

His face—usually kind when passing her in hallways—was drawn now. Concern flickered in his eyes, but his jaw was tight.

"Miss Wilson," he said gently, gesturing to a single chair across from them. "Please, have a seat."

Julie walked forward on legs that felt made of glass.

She sat, folding her hands on her lap to stop them from shaking. The seat was too cold, or maybe it was just her.

The Dean of Student Conduct leaned forward first. "You’re aware, I assume, of the video circulating online."

Julie opened her mouth but no sound came. Her lips parted, trembling.

"I didn’t—" she tried. "That’s not me. It’s edited. I swear, I didn’t—"

"Calm down," Kenneth Duro said, raising a hand to still her. "We’re not accusing you. Yet. But you must understand how serious this is, Julie."

The Head of Academic Affairs scowled slightly. "Do you deny the content entirely? Because the video is explicit. Graphic."

Julie shook her head hard. "I deny everything. It’s fabricated."

"And how do you suppose a fabricated video of you surfaced on encrypted student networks and social media simultaneously?" another member asked coldly.

Julie’s chest ached with rage and helplessness. "I don’t know! I—I haven’t done anything to warrant this."

Kenneth leaned forward slightly, his voice softer. "Julie, have you made any enemies recently? Anyone who may want to harm your reputation?"

He asked because not just because the didn’t seems that kind of person but he knows it will be a big problem when Roman knows.

Her mouth opened... but she couldn’t say it. She wished she could say yes, but as far as she knew, she had no enemies in the school.

She swallowed.

"Maybe," she whispered.

The female Dean narrowed her eyes. "Maybe isn’t good enough, Miss Wilson. These allegations are damaging not just to you, but to the image of this institution. We’re already receiving inquiries from media outlets."

Julie’s heart stopped.

Media?

"They can’t—" she started, panicked.

"We’re not here to judge you," Kenneth said again, his tone calming. "We’re here to contain this before it ruins your academic future."

"But how do I prove something that didn’t happen?" Julie asked, her voice cracking. "That’s the trap, isn’t it? I can’t fight something that isn’t real."

"You can if you cooperate," he said. "Tell us everything. Every detail. Even things you think are unrelated."

Julie stared at the man’s tired eyes. She saw it there—he didn’t want to hurt her.

He didn’t believe the others completely. But his hands were tied.

And they were all waiting.

Just as her pulse reached its highest pitch—

The door creaked slowly, like the groan of an old window before a storm.

Down the polished marble corridor outside the administrative wing, echoes rolled like distant thunder.

Click.

Click. Click.

A single pair of boots.

Then more.

Then many.

Students near the hallway froze. Conversations died mid-sentence.

Heads turned slowly—drawn by the rhythmic, bone-deep sound of synchronized steps.

Guards. A dozen of them. Dressed in tailored black, moving like shadows with muscle.

Their boots struck the floor in perfect unison, the sound bouncing off marble and glass.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t glance at anyone.

They lined up—one by one—forming two perfect rows on either side of the hallway leading to the conference room doors.

The last student standing there dropped their phone in shock.

And then—

From behind them, a slow shift in energy swept the space like a wave pulling back before the tide exploded.

Roman Thompson arrived.

He didn’t walk so much as alter gravity.

Black coat open, his stride was smooth but commanding. The kind of walk that parted crowds before a word was spoken. His gloved hands rested at his sides. His eyes, unreadable, locked forward.

The guards stood taller as he passed.

No salute.

Just reverence.

He walked between them like a king through ceremonial gates.

The corridor bent around his presence.

Inside the boardroom, the atmosphere shifted. Pressure built in invisible walls.

The doors opened.

Not swung.

Not pushed.

They parted—like curtains retreating before something too powerful to name.

Two guards stepped in, flanking either side.

Then came him.

Roman Thompson.

He entered without a word, without a glance, his steps cutting the silence with surgical precision.

He didn’t need to demand attention.

He owned it.

Behind him, the open doorway revealed the corridor still flanked by silent sentries. None of them moved.

They didn’t need to.

Roman wasn’t protected.

He was the danger.

Every faculty member, advisor, and board executive rose to their feet—not from manners.

From instinct.

Even the head of the school, a man used to hosting royalty and presidents, felt his posture straighten beneath the weight of recognition.

Roman Thompson.

A name carried in whispers. A shadow that walked in daylight. A force no institution wanted to confront.

And he was here.

"To what," the head of the school said slowly, his voice strained with controlled surprise, "do we owe this unexpected visit... Mr. Thompson?"

Roman’s eyes scanned the room once and when they landed on Julie, some thing shifted.

The cold steel softened, just slightly, replaced with something warmer. Fierce, yes.

But protective. Like the calm eye in the middle of a storm.

Her fingers trembled at her sides. Her pulse roared in her ears.

He let the silence stretch.

Then, with a voice like deep thunder laced in velvet:

"You owe it to a failure," he said. "One born here. In this very room."

The air stopped moving.

"Because while you sat in tailored chairs beneath your polished titles," he continued, "a young woman was buried beneath lies. Without evidence. Without pause. Without protection."

His eyes landed on the head of the school—no longer gentle.

"And that young woman," he said, his voice blade-sharp, "happens to be mine."

Julie stopped breathing.

Roman walked forward, unhurried, and placed a black dossier at the head of the table.

"Inside is a forensic breakdown of the forged video. Deepfake overlay. Server path. Origin IP. You’ll find it more thorough than anything your IT department could dream of."

He straightened, hands behind his back.

"I came," he said, soft and deadly, "because I didn’t trust that you’d remember what integrity looks like unless it walked into the room and reminded you how small your power truly is."

No one spoke.

Julie stared.

Roman turned once more to the table.

"Whatever damage you thought you could do to her," he said, eyes like fire behind calm, "ends here."

Dear lovely readers,

I sincerely apologize for the delay in updates—I’m currently in the middle of my exams and focusing on doing my best.

I truly appreciate your patience and continued support during this time. Please know that your encouragement means the world to me, and I can’t wait to return with even more powerful Chapters once my exams are done.

Thank you for understanding! 💙

With love and gratitude,

[midnight_star07]