Chapter 10 - The Sapphire Restored
The snow was falling even thicker when Roman pulled his car into the parking lot of St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital.
He didn't run. He walked with measured, deliberate steps, his mind clearer than it had ever been. He felt lighter, as if a colossal stone that had been chained to his neck since boyhood had finally fractured and fallen away into the abyss.
He took the elevator to the fourth floor and walked down the quiet corridor to Room 412.
The door was ajar. Inside, the soft morning light filtered through the blinds. Rose was sitting propped up in bed, looking frail but remarkably alert, a tray of warm broth resting on the adjustable table in front of her.
Evelyn was sitting in the armchair beside the bed. She had washed her face, and her hair was tied back in a neat, simple ponytail. She was reading aloud from a book of poetry that Rose kept in her overnight bag, her soft, melodious voice filling the room with an enduring sense of peace that the grand manor on the hill had never once possessed.
Roman stood in the doorway for a moment, just watching them.
Rose was the first to notice him. The old woman adjusted her new digital hearing aids—the ones Evelyn had bought with her mother's sapphire—and tapped Evelyn’s arm with a bony finger.
"Look who finally decided to show up," Rose said, her voice crackling with dry humor. "The prodigal son returns from the den of vipers."
Evelyn turned, her eyes widening slightly as she saw Roman. She stood up quickly, smoothing down her navy dress. "Roman? Did you go back to the house? Did you get some sleep?"
Roman didn't answer. He walked into the room, past the hospital bed, and stopped right in front of Evelyn.
Without a word, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the small velvet box from Harrison Pawn.
Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes locked onto the black velvet.
Roman opened the box. The blue Ceylon sapphire seemed to drink in the sterile hospital light and transform it into something radiant, timeless, and pure.
"You..." Evelyn whispered, her chin trembling, her hand rising to cover her mouth. "Roman, how? Harrison said it had already been sent to the regional distributor—"
"—I made him call the courier," Roman said softly, taking Evelyn’s left hand in his. "I made him turn the van around. And I told him that if he didn't have this ring back in my hands by six-thirty this morning, I would tear his shop apart brick by brick."
Roman lifted the ring from the velvet cushion. He slid it gently, deliberately, back onto the fourth finger of Evelyn's left hand, right next to her simple wedding band. It fit perfectly, as if it had never left.
"It belongs to you," Roman said, his voice thick with tears. "Just like your life belongs to you. Not to my mother. Not to Martin. And not to this cursed family name."
Rose watched from the bed, a fierce, vindictive satisfaction gleaming in her pale blue eyes. "Took you long enough, boy," the old woman rasped. "I've been waiting seven years for you to grow a spine."
Evelyn looked down at the ring, then up at Roman, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. "What did you do, Roman? What happened at the manor?"
"It's over, Evie," Roman said, pulling her into his arms, kissing her temple, her forehead, her wet cheeks. "The brunch is canceled. The house is gone. The debts are exposed. I told them everything."
Evelyn stiffened in his embrace, a lingering instinct of panic flaring in her chest. "Roman, your firm... the investors... your mother said—"
"—Let them leave," Roman said firmly, holding her tighter. "I don't care about their investments. I don't care about the firm. I would rather build doghouses out of scrap wood with you by my side than spend another second pretending to be something I’m not at the expense of your soul."
Evelyn buried her face in Roman’s neck, her shoulders shaking as the seven years of suffocating terror, humiliation, and invisible servitude finally washed out of her in a flood of cleansing tears.
May you like
Rose reached over from the bed and placed her frail, paper-thin hand over their joined fingers. "Good," the old woman muttered, nodding to herself. "Now maybe we can finally have some peace."
***
