SECOND MEETING

(Mr. Thomas White's Mansion – 12:00 AM)

Roseline had thought Thompson White's mansion was the biggest there was in the whole of Mayfair City.

She had been in total awe of its magnificence the first time she visited him; it was a miracle her eyeballs didn't pop out of their sockets from admiration of the palace-like structure that day.

Arriving at the Thomases’ mansion gave her a total mindset shift, even before she got to go in.

She could have sworn the air within the premises felt entirely different—like the type of crisp, fresh breeze the majestic goodness of affluence brought.

The mansion, that could pass for a golden house, stood firm at the center of the compound. The cream-colored paint of the walls of the exterior, lined with expensive glass doors and windows, screamed undefined luxury.

There were flowers on either side of the sparkling-clean, spacious compound, but they didn't look like the bunch of normal, on-the-verge-of-withering flowers you'd see at every other house planted to beautify.

They looked different—plump, alive, rich, like treasures.

Roseline shivered from the heavy aura the atmosphere in the Thomases’ mansion carried.

"This is heaven!" she whispered under her breath, looking around.

"Let's go," Thompson beckoned with a shaky voice after parking the car properly in the garage, which had about seven other different cars of impeccable value and prestige.

"Are you okay?" Roseline asked, concerned.

Exhaling heavily, failing to hide just how nervous he was to see his father for one of the most important meetings that would determine his fate as a son of the Whites, Thompson replied in a tone too low for how he'd normally sound.

"Of course I am. Let's go."

Unsure of why Thompson was acting strange, but occupied with the thought of just how much better being inside of the Thomases’ mansion would be, Roseline clicked her tongue against her teeth before walking forward to meet Thompson.

But instead of walking towards the entrance of the mansion, Thompson turned and started to walk around it.

"Uuhm! Isn't that the main entrance of your father's house?" Roseline asked, pointing towards the door she thought they would be passing through.

"We're going to go in from behind," Thompson replied, grabbing her hand gently and continuing to walk towards the backside of the house.

"Why?" Roseline asked, surprised, but more curious about what his reason could be.

Clearing his throat silently, Thompson replied,

"I need to grab something quickly from my room before heading to meet my father."

"Oh, okay," Roseline nodded, disappointed at how her simple dream from minutes ago—which was walking through the front door, under a self-conjured spotlight, into the mansion—had been shattered.

Without any further question, she followed Thompson's lead until they got to a door just by the side of the building. Pulling it open silently, Thompson motioned for her to get in and followed suit immediately before gently closing it behind him.

Something was off about him going through a door different from the main entrance and how he acted discreet about it, keeping his steps gentle and his voice down the whole time, but Roseline did not bother to ask anyway.

They walked through an empty, dim-lighted passage that smelt heavily of fresh lavender before turning towards an open door that revealed a space livelier and more well-lit than where they had come from.

Just before they crossed the door, Thompson let go of Roseline's hand to adjust his tie. Then, taking a deep breath, he turned to her, his face melting into a wide smile.

"Let's go, shall we?" he whispered to her, the smile still plastered firmly on his face.

Not sure of the cause for his sudden smile, Roseline rubbed her neck uncomfortably, fighting the urge to sit him down and have a proper conversation as to why he had been acting weird since they got there.

"Let's go," she whispered back instead, forcing herself to smile too in order to reduce how awkward it had turned between them.

Slipping her hand back in his, her face turned away from his ridiculous, smile-infested face, they walked through the door.

It was like a whole different world.

The beauty of the interior was way beyond Roseline's imagination.

Whosoever did the interior decoration of the space could as well become a magician, Roseline had thought.

She was still lost in the beauty of the area surrounding her when Thompson's voice rang out loudly through the silence, cracking against her solemn focus on admiration.

"Dad, I'm right here!" he spoke out excitedly, raising the hand with which he was holding Roseline's up in the air and swinging it dramatically.

Following Thompson's eyes to see who he was talking to, Roseline failed to notice the row of stairs before her, causing her to miss a step and slip over to the next.

She gasped out of shock as she grabbed onto the rail to save herself from falling.

Thompson had rushed over to her, but instead of saving her, he had pulled a hand over her mouth to muffle any sound she could have made.

When she regained her balance, she shot him a surprised look that was more of a silent question.

"What are you doing right now?"

But Thompson continued to descend the stairs.

"C'mon, darling. C'mon," he beckoned to her like he did not just see her miss her balance.

Shaking her head, Roseline made to keep moving down, but her ankle went stiff. The pain was unbearable, and she couldn't help but crouch down to massage the area.

Her eyes saw glittering stars as soon as she pressed down on it in an effort to ease the pain she felt. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She had hurt her ankle on her first visit to her would-be father-in-law's house.

She looked up to see that Thompson was already down the stairs, almost out of her view. Standing up, she made to walk but only succeeded in limping with so much effort down the next stair.

"Where's Dad?" she heard Thompson ask, and barely a second after, another voice, firm and masculine, spoke from behind her.

"Young lady!"