Cronus Romano
"Cronus, aren't you coming?" Gerald's voice broke the stillness as he leaned into the doorway. I didn't look up, just gave a brief shake of my head.
Ever since that woman left, everything feels flat. The room, the people—it's all lost its edge.
"It's your car, right?" he persisted like he was testing me. "The one Rose mentioned earlier?"
"Go now, brother," I replied, my voice as cold as ice, cutting off any further questions. He finally understood and left.
I hope his right. If Rose had been talking about my car—a red vintage Ferrari. To be exact, it's a Ferrari 275 Nart Spyder. She must have caught sight of it in the parking lot when she got here.
Sharp eyes, that one. She knows how to spot the finer things.
I can't help but wonder what she'd think if she knew it was mine. I made sure she got the plate number, so by now, she should've figured it out. The thought brought a hint of a smile to my lips—one that barely touched the surface.
I've started to think this place is making me relive my life. Back home, I barely cared about anything besides work. My days were an endless loop: sleep, eat, work, gym, and repeat. There was no room—or need—for anything else. I never felt the urge to clutter my life with meaningless distractions.
But moving here has stirred something in me. It's as if this place has woken me up, making things a bit more... different. I wasn't thrilled when I was ordered to relocate. I was used to the life I had, the routine I built. I was working hard for the company, for my father. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to be the next heir to the company. I want it, and I want it bad. Not for the money, not for the fame, but for my father's recognition.
I've always admired him—maybe because my mother drilled that into me. She loved him, perhaps too much, but he didn't feel the same. She died when I was seven, and it didn't take long for my father to remarry. He said it was to give me a mother figure, but I've always wondered if that was the real reason.
My stepmother came with a son, same as my age, but to my surprise, he was my father's biological child. I never asked my father about it—not once. I knew better. Some questions could shatter what little we had, and our relationship was already hanging by a thread.
I worked hard, relentlessly, just to prove a point to him—that without me, the company wouldn't reach its full potential. Maybe I was too confident, thinking that my value was obvious. So when he decided to put me in charge of a new project, I wasn't sure what to make of it. But one thing's for sure—I won't give him any reason to find fault in my work.
My mind keeps drifting back to the office. I miss the stacks of papers on my desk, the familiar rhythm of deadlines, and the sound of Jack's endless sighs from his office. Maybe it's time to head back. I moved to the glass wall, staring down at Alexandra, who looked like she was living her best life. She was smiling, and I couldn't help but smile too. I've never seen her this happy.
At home, our father was strict—especially with raising us. Alexandra never really got to experience the freedom she's finding here. Maybe we should stay a bit longer. All of this—clubs, friends, girls—it's all new to me. I never paid much attention to any of it before, but now it's like it's all pulling me in.
Still, knowing myself, I'll probably return to what I know best. I'm not one for change. Sure, I might take an interest in something new, but I always end up craving the familiar. New things, new interests—they're just temporary distractions for me.
And speaking of distractions, Fire Rose Hillson was the best one. I’ve seen countless beautiful women in my life—women who flaunted themselves for attention, who thought their looks could get them anywhere. But Fire? She outclassed them all.
