Villain of Fate: The Tyrant System-Chapter 7: A Visit to the De Dominicis Estate

A Visit to the De Dominicis Estate

Staring at Shera, his look stayed fixed - cold, measuring. Not just faithful, though; something bolder moved underneath, restless. That devotion? It held risk, ready to ignite if pushed too far. A flicker passed through Julian’s pale eyes - they tightened almost unseen.

"Captain Shera," he began, his voice smooth but edged with authority, "they say true loyalty reveals itself in times of trial. You’ve shown yours today. I am... very pleased."

Fresh air filled Shera’s lungs, lifting his frame. His mouth edged upward, just slightly, then he pulled his shoulders back - as though warmth from those words could fuel him.

Julian’s hand moved, resting casually on Shera’s shoulder, weight light but commanding. "But I think with your talent, being a bodyguard captain is... limiting. Our D’Aurelius household owns a mining company abroad. How about you oversee it for me?"

"Me?" Shera’s eyes widened, a faint shine within them. Surprise held him still. Softly, his words shook. Young Master... I..."

"Yes. You leave tomorrow. I’ll arrange it. Your salary, your bonuses - triple what you earn here. Work diligently for a few years, and we’ll see what comes next." Julian patted Shera’s shoulder heavily, finality and reassurance intertwined.

Shera’s hands tightened instinctively. "Thank you, Young Master Julian... for your trust. I will not disappoint you."

Fog filled his vision. Gratitude spilled from him as he spoke Julian’s name again, then turned fast toward home to gather what he’d need.

Only when Shera had left did Julian let his breath out, quiet and low. Smugness curled at the edge of his mouth. Fine. An informant shipped overseas. Trouble, quietly undone. Here, nobody would rattle his version of events - or touch his world.

The Rolex caught the sun, its gold face glinting as he looked down. Being wealthy felt flat somehow. Not exciting. Just steady. Maybe that was peace - hard to tell.

Footsteps heavy, he carried the redwood box away from the table, heading straight for the garage.

Moonlight bounced off the McLaren Senna parked beneath the iron gates, paint shimmering like liquid steel. Into the driver’s seat slipped Julian, pulse syncing with the rumble rising from the chassis as tires bit into gravel, pushing fast along the path to De Dominicis land.

Away from the city’s edge stood the house, built long ago when fortunes were made differently. Though kings once walked its halls, changes came slowly through the years. Each wall, each passageway carried weight - like history speaking without words.

A single hour passed during the trip. When they reached the place, guards in matching clothes saw Julian right away, lowering their heads just a bit.

Evening, Young Master D’Aurelius," came a quiet voice, dipped in courtesy. The words slipped out slow, careful on the air.

Keys flew through the air, aimed at a second guard. A nod came instead of words. Without stopping, he stepped forward, present gripped tight, moving past gates. The path ahead swallowed his figure quickly.

Quietly, the garden stretched out like something painted by hand. From green lawns stepped up small pavilions, while stone steps hugged still pools where fish drifted slow. Along one side, trails curled between trimmed bushes, never rushing. The air moved gently, almost polite, brushing leaves into low murmurs that felt meant.

Halfway to the sitting area, Julian bumped into someone. There was a quiet bump, then his body tensed - less from force, more from surprise at how solid that person felt.

For a second, his breath caught. There she stood, dressed in a tight European dress - the kind that follows each curve without missing a detail. It clung close, made of rich material, stretchy yet heavy at once. Down her back flowed red hair, bright as burning embers spilling across skin pale as morning mist. Her features looked too perfect, really, like beauty had gone too far.

That shape - intense. Fabric pulled across her large bust, laced sharp at a slim middle, then eased out over wide hips and heavy legs. Each shift felt smooth, balanced, edged with something barely allowed. Thoughts fired through Julian. What kind of control keeps that together, step after step?

A sudden stillness crossed her face. Wide eyes held disbelief, a quiet annoyance slipping through just at the edge.

Her words cut through the air - what had he just said? Her tone cracked like ice, eyes narrowing as color rose in her cheeks.

Wait. I haven’t spoken a word. You okay?" Julian pressed his fingers between his eyes, truly confused.

A small shift crossed her face, the edge of doubt giving way to careful calm. It might be I got it wrong before - what brings you around?

Heavy in Julian’s palms, the present carried the sharp smell of fresh polish cutting through silence. A pause came then - old moments, things never said, hanging low as if weightless yet pressing down.

Bianca De Dominicis stood first among siblings, born into the family that carried her name. Once tied to him by romance, she moved through moments quietly but firmly remembered. The tale gave her space just behind its central figure, shaping scenes without demanding attention.

Sharp stayed the echo of what they once knew. Born neighbors, pulled lovers by chance. College brought two months - fierce, clumsy fire. Yet silence crept in after a smirk from someone else, whispers that spiraled too soon. The bond split under weight neither could name.

Far from old promises, Bianca walked back into the family trade - sharp, solitary, love never softening her path.

A small, crooked grin tugged at Julian’s mouth. Back we go - time knots looping through what was, what is, leaving trails behind.

Quiet settled over the old house, as if it were listening. What came after this clash of Julian’s gold stare and Bianca’s wild red hair stayed unwritten. The air tightened, motionless. Only moments could decide where things turned from here.