Villain of Fate: The Tyrant System-Chapter 12: Another Woman the Story Has Chosen
Another Woman the Story Has Chosen
From the start, Amara Ravenswood carried something celestial in her presence. Not just beauty, but one that floated between dreamlike and real, mixed with clear wit, quiet confidence, an ease around others. Small wonder she belonged among Evan’s chosen, standing apart even there - a gem shaped by rarity itself. Sunlight poured across the open yard, gilding strands of her deep brown hair as it flowed down past her shoulders like liquid fabric. She seemed slight next to Bianca De Dominicis, yes - but built in a way that fooled the eye: narrow at the middle, then widening softly into curves that held perfect balance. Movement came smoothly, each footfall light, controlled. Still, Julian D’Aurelius sensed more - he saw how stillness sharpened when needed, felt the alert depth behind calm eyes, thought honed like a blade.
This time, it matched perfectly what you’d expect from a comforting story.
Beauty showed up wherever he went - no surprise there. A cop at the precinct had eyes sharp as stone, dark waves falling past her shoulders. Mid-flight, a stewardess grinned, warmth spilling into corners others left cold. In some backstreet coffee shop, the server poured drinks slow, her pale face hiding old names, older debts. Even by the highway, where dirt gathers, a girl brushed off grime only to glow under kindness, crownless but born to fortune. Each woman carried weight - not just looks, but history pressed deep in bones. When they chose him, their people followed, doors opening without question.
Finding his way back to Valemont, Evan picked it - not just for the gleaming streets but because power hummed beneath them. Here, among estates and old names, he drew close those who mattered, linking families through quiet agreements. Each bond tightened his grip, moving him forward without noise or show. Hearts bent first, then thrones followed, one after another. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮
A quiet smile played on Amara’s lips as she stepped toward Julian - gentle, yet edged with something watchful. That look could soften stone or set nerves on edge, depending on how you saw it. She tilted her head slightly before speaking, words smooth but firm like river-polished glass. Her question came out light, almost casual: had the patriarch kept up with his doses? Was his condition steady under the regimen she’d outlined weeks ago? Each syllable held care, yes - but also an unshakable grip on control.
"Yes," Julian replied quickly, his golden eyes warm with gratitude. "He has. And we really have to thank you, Amara. Patriarch has improved remarkably under your care."
A small lift of Amara’s eyebrows gave her away, mischief glowing in her hazel stare. Not quite happy, her voice dipped into mock complaint: "Since when do you treat me like a stranger, Julian?" They’d grown up together - close as family, really - yet something cheeky lived beneath each movement she made.
For generations, healing was their trade in Valemont - the Ravenswood line bound tight to the D’Aurelius name. When sickness struck one under that roof, help arrived swift, quiet, always wearing a Ravenswood face. Trust ran deep; skill sharper still. Shielded by noble favor, they moved beyond reach, steady through changing times.
That sound again - thoughts buzzing like an old radio. Julian almost smiled. Trouble waits when manners slip, he thought. Someone must have told her to chase Evan, that unbearable showoff. Meanwhile, sweet Amara’s already smitten... honestly, the writer might be losing grip.
Pausing for just a second, Amara tipped her head sideways, confusion creeping in. One of Evan’s group? Wait - Evan who? Her gaze snapped to Julian, pupils growing larger. That name - it came out of nowhere. "Wait," she said, voice low, fixed on his face. What exactly had slipped from his mouth?
Holding back a smirk, Julian rubbed his nose. "I haven’t spoken." Yet something felt off - the way women moved now seemed different.
Before the confusion could deepen, a nurse from the De Dominicis family arrived briskly. Seeing Amara, she hurried forward, bowing respectfully. "Divine Doctor Ravenswood, Patriarch De Dominicis has just woken. Would you like to rest briefly before seeing him?"
"I’ll go right away," Amara said, patting the small, polished box at her side that held her silver needles and precision tools. Every motion radiated competence and readiness.
"I’ll come with you," Julian said immediately, grabbing his own gift with careful attention and following closely behind.
Through a maze of polished corridors and sunlit courtyards, the pair arrived at a secluded entrance—a private courtyard where Patriarch De Dominicis resided. Above the doorway, two elegant couplets, written in Patriarch De Dominicis’s hand, hung in solemn pride:
"Studying is good, farming is good, learning well is good."
"Starting a business is hard, maintaining it is hard, knowing it’s hard is not hard."
Julian’s eyes flickered with amusement. Classic author foreshadowing. Later, when Evan arrived, he would notice the couplet at a glance, strike up conversation with Patriarch De Dominicis, and leave him awestruck. From there, the path to alliance would unfold seamlessly.
As Julian rolled his eyes at the setup, members of the De Dominicis family arrived from behind, walking in pairs, their presence both commanding and respectful. Naturally, Evan was among them.
"Oh, isn’t this Little Julian? Here to visit Patriarch?" one of the De Dominicis elders greeted warmly, extending hands. Julian returned the salutations with a smile, polite and measured. "Hello, Uncle. Hello, Aunt..."
But from the back of the gathering, Evan’s eyes burned with a cold, predatory light, his black gaze fixed on Julian. That second-generation upstart, daring to appear in the same space as women in his sight—he would not forgive this challenge lightly. Yet, with his empire still consolidating, causing a scene now would be unwise. Suppressing the flames of his wrath, he made a silent vow: patience now, reckoning later.
