ABSOLUTE INSANITY: A forbidden bond-Chapter 244: Audacity

Chapter 243

Romeo pov

Miss Stella stood near the stove, wooden spoon clenched too tightly in her hand. She didn’t move toward Katya. Didn’t speak. Didn’t intervene.

She watched. That landed heavier than anything else, because from what I know miss stella and Katya have this mother and daughter relationship same as nonna but seeing this now I wasn’t so sure.

Then one of the women stepped forward. Younger. Dark hair pulled back tight. Her posture was rigid in a way that read like resentment sharpened into courage.

The audio caught her voice clearly, talks on that stupid cousin death. I didn’t need to hear every word to understand the damage. Katya’s reaction told the story faster than sound ever could.

She flinched.

Actually flinched—like she’d been struck. Her head shook once, small and instinctive, denial already forming before her mind could catch up. Her mouth moved. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I didn’t need to.

Her shoulders folded inward, spine curling like she was trying to make herself disappear.

I felt something cold settle behind my ribs. The woman kept talking. I watched Katya’s face drain of color. Watched her hands clench at her sides. Watched the moment her eyes darted around the room—searching.

For help. For anyone. No one moved.Miss Stella looked down. That was when something in my chest went very still.

The accusation—whatever exact shape it took—hit its mark. I could see it land in the way Katya’s lips parted, in the way she swallowed hard like her throat had closed up around the words she wanted to say.

She spoke again. Longer this time. Desperate. Explaining. The woman cut her off.

Katya’s whole body jolted like the interruption had snapped something fragile inside her. I’d seen men take bullets with less visible impact.

She backed away then. Slow. Apologetic. "I’m sorry," she said—soft enough that the microphone barely caught it.

I closed my eyes for half a second. No one stopped her. No one followed. No one corrected what had been said.

She turned and left the frame, and only after the door swung shut did the kitchen breathe again—movement resuming in fragments, life continuing as if nothing irreversible had just happened.

I rewound. Watched it again.And again.

Every time, I noticed something new. The timing. The lack of hesitation. The way that woman had spoken like she’d been holding onto those words for a while.

I switched cameras, tracking Katya through the hallway as she walked faster, then faster still. Her hand braced against the wall. Her steps faltered.

The elevator. She reached it and pressed the button too hard. Missed it the first time. Tried again. Her knees buckled slightly when the doors didn’t open fast enough.

That did it.

I straightened, heat flooding my veins so fast it made my vision sharpen around the edges. My grip tightened on the tablet until my knuckles went white.

James shifted beside me. "Boss?" I didn’t look at him as I pressed the tablet back into his hands.

I didn’t need to. "I know," I said quietly.

James’s fingers tightened around the edges for half a second before he nodded, once. He’d seen it too.

The girl’s mouth moving faster than her sense. The audacity of it.

I turned away from the cameras, jaw set, something sharp settling into place inside my chest.

There was clarity now. No speculation. No doubt. I knew exactly who had done it.

A stupid girl with too much mouth and not enough fear. The kind that mistook proximity to power for protection. The kind that thought whispering poison in a kitchen counted as courage.

She’d chosen Katya as a target because Katya didn’t fight back. That mistake would cost her. Not because I was angry—anger was loud, messy, unreliable.

This was colder than that. "This house forgets its place sometimes," I said, voice even, almost thoughtful. "People get comfortable. They start thinking silence means permission."

James said nothing. He didn’t need to. His stillness told me he understood exactly where this was going.

I took a step toward the kitchen door, running a hand through my hair and exhaled slowly, forcing the edge back just enough to think clearly again.

Katya was with Nonna, thinking of a way to get out of this estate because of this foolish girl. I pushed the kitchen door open and the effect was immediate.

Sound died first, metal against metal, the low murmur of conversation, even the quiet rhythm of work.

It all cut out at once, like someone had reached up and torn the cord from the wall. Then movement followed.

Every body in the room stilled mid-action. A knife froze above a cutting board. A pot went untouched on the stove, steam curling uselessly into the air.

Chairs scraped softly as people straightened without realizing they were doing it. Fear has a smell. You only notice it when it arrives all at once.

My eyes didn’t wander. They didn’t need to. I knew exactly where to look. The girl was near the far counter—the same one from the footage.

Dark hair pulled back too tight. Shoulders squared in a way that tried and failed to pass for confidence. The second my gaze locked onto her, she flinched.

Her breath hitched. Her spine jerked like I’d touched her without laying a hand on her. Whatever courage she’d borrowed earlier shattered under nothing more than eye contact.

Around her, the rest of the staff bowed their heads in unison. "Don," they greeted, voices layered and synchronized, respectful down to the bone.

I didn’t answer. I took one step into the room. Then another. Each footfall echoed just enough to remind them I was there.

Control was everything. But control was hard when Katya’s face kept flashing behind my eyes.

Her flinch. Her apology. The way her shoulders had folded inward like she’d already accepted blame for something she hadn’t done.

It took effort not to let that show. I stopped and lifted my hand. "You."i pointed. The word landed clean and sharp, cutting through the room without needing volume.

The girl startled like she’d been struck. Her mouth opened, then closed. She looked around once, stupidly, as if hoping I meant someone else.

Her knees bent a fraction before she caught herself. The confidence from earlier—the borrowed audacity—was gone now, replaced with naked understanding.

Seeing her in person only made it worse.

This was her?

This small, careless thing with resentment in her eyes and no sense of scale? This was who had looked at Katya—gentle, quiet Katya—and decided to unload death at her feet like it was nothing?

Something dark pressed hard against my ribs as I moved towards her, James stood at the door entrance, taking guard.

I tried not to show anger, tried to remain calm because calmness made them fear more but when my hand closed around the small knife on the chop board all reasoning vanished.

††

Someone’s losing a body part! Lalalalalala