CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SEROTONIN

( — a neurotransmitter, derived from tryptophan, that is involved in sleep, depression, memory, and other neurological processes. )

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          ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WERE TWO PRINCESSES. Rhiannon and Stephanie Ford took great pride in knowing the faith their parents had in them, and both took purposeful turns in their paths just to ensure things stayed that way. Excelling in academics and extracurricular activities (while Rhiannon had taken up modeling, being slightly taller and slimmer, Stephanie was the pride and joy of the debate club), it felt like nothing could ever go wrong.

          Even though Christopher and Madeleine certainly didn't approve of Rhiannon's social circle (or, better yet, the main and most important part of it), they had other aspects of her life to focus on and, somehow, that sort of balanced things out a little bit. As long as she kept being successful on said domains, they would allow themselves to close their eyes whenever anything involved the Sargents.

          Stephanie, on the other hand, was the picture perfect daughter in more ways than one. Sociable, with brains that easily rivaled some of the most brilliant minds the Fords had ever worked with, and knowing how to keep her mouth shut regarding any of their parents' dirty affairs, it was no surprise she had always been the favorite (and the much better daughter, like Mr. and Mrs. Ford enjoyed reminding Rhiannon of). Her group of friends was composed of the children of the Fords' closest friends. None of her steps ever made her dangle to the wrong side of the tightrope.

          Unfortunately, she wasn't the one who had taken a particular liking to the Fords' legacy, preferring to study the human sciences instead. Rhiannon, much to their parents' relief, pushed through every lecture about Biology, Chemistry and the pharmaceutical industry they gave them without ever rolling her eyes, and she could almost burst with excitement whenever they referred to her as their little prodigy just thanks to that.

          Being renowned medicinal chemists, they were ecstatic to know at least one of their daughters was minimally interested in what they had spent years of their lives doing, researching and turning laboratories into their second home. They were more than happy to feed Rhiannon's interest in it, pushing her to always demand to know more, as knowledge was limitless, and, even though her heart had always beat harder for Neurosciences, they let it slide, arguing it was 'close enough' to what they wanted her to turn into.

          They wanted her to turn into them, but there was one seemingly small inconvenience, commonly known as Jude Sargent. If it weren't for that, she would have been the perfect miniature of Christopher and Madeleine, sharing their looks and enthusiasm for science. Unfortunately, she kept finding new ways of escaping from the mold they so desperately wanted her to fit into and, slowly, they came to their senses. She would never be like them, even if all three of them shared the same love for their major field of studies.

          Nevertheless, she was still brilliant enough for them to let her help them with their research and visit their laboratories. Everything was always so pristine, so white it was blinding and Rhiannon always left with a pounding headache drilling against the walls of her skull, but, in the end, it was worth it, especially when they let her experiment with the compounds. Though that was certainly risky, they still chose to take it, trusting her enough to not make any potentially destructive mistakes.

          Hell, there are some medicines out there in the market that Rhiannon herself helped produce, which will never not be one of the biggest achievements of her life so far. Even though it had never been her main interest, Rhiannon decided to pay more attention to pharmacology, especially neuropharmacology, in a way of trying to shorten the distance between her and her parents.

          Rhiannon poured her heart into everything she did whenever she sat inside those laboratories, wearing a white coat and all. As she pretended to know exactly what she was doing (with the scientists surrounding her often whispering words of encouragement because, after all, she was merely eighteen or nineteen and definitely didn't have the training they did), she could almost picture ditching her original plan and work for her parents.

          Almost. That was until the day Connor Duncan came along and left a trail of destruction wherever he walked past; Christopher and Madeleine didn't mind letting her spend time with him as long as she kept her mind focused on things that truly mattered (unlike Jude, even if she still found time to hang out with him, Isla and Matteo), and simply let her be.

          Coincidentally, that happened right around the time when the Fords were meticulously studying the preparations for the pre-clinical trials of a medication they had spent months working on. Any mistakes could be deadly, so they closed themselves in their laboratories for hours, flipping through heavy textbooks, one after the other, and the countless experiments they conducted left everyone exhausted.

          They let her study through the heavy load of their notes about lead compounds, making her sick to her stomach as they described the effects they had found after administrating the medicine to animals, and left her in charge of studying the physicochemical properties of the substances used, what effects they had on the body and what the body did to them.

          The Duncans worked for a rival company, but, somehow, both families made it work, as they had been friends for decades, which explained why Connor was allowed inside the building. He helped Rhiannon study and write down her notes, as there was no way she would have been able to manage her time as well as she did without him, and that brought them closer together.

          She didn't want to admit it, but he saved her, in some twisted way. He saved her from the embarrassment of having to tell her parents she wasn't ready or strong enough to complete the tasks they had trusted her with. The problem is that he wanted her to want more—he wanted her to know she was able of doing what they did, even though she was only nineteen and had next to no training, especially lab skills. Thus, he asked her for a copy of her parents' notes, arguing it would help him help her.

          A little ambition had never hurt anyone, but he took it to the next level, never fearing to have to knock other people aside to succeed; he prided himself in knowing he could easily outsmart anyone he wanted and wished Rhiannon was a bit more like him, no matter how risky his plan was. If one of them got caught, they'd get in serious trouble, but Connor had always known how to get inside her head and twist everything for it to work out in his favor. Never in theirs.

          Naturally, it backfired, though Rhiannon had spent plenty of time in agonizing anxiety as she waited for him to come back. When he did, it was too late, with the Duncans releasing the medication themselves for their company and taking all the credit for other people's hard work; the Fords, on the other hand, were worthlessly kicked aside and ridiculed for having let it happen and trusted the wrong people, drowning in betrayal.

          The rest is history.

          Damnatio memoriae, Rhiannon kept thinking to herself. Ironically, that was one of the things that helped her stay minimally sane, as everyone would forget about it eventually and perhaps, in the future, she'd be able to see her life slowly return to normal . . . if there even is such a thing.

          "Damn, Rhiannon," Hailey finally sighs, after a brief moment of silence and incredulity, and all Rhiannon can do is lean a shoulder against the wall next to her to support her own weight. Reliving all those memories is always painful, leaving behind horrible feelings of nausea and failure, and, if she focuses enough, the unmistakable sound of her father's hand hitting her cheek echoes in her ears. "Damn. I had no idea."

          "You knew what they had done," Rhiannon mutters, staring down at her feet, as it's a lot easier than lifting her stare. It always is, making things unravel a lot more smoothly because she can't see the disappointment plastered on her interlocutor's face. "You just didn't know why. It wasn't something anyone ever revealed to the public, not even the Duncans, so, at least, it's relieving to know they still had some decency inside them."

          "Babe, no." Hailey takes a hesitant step forward and slides her arms around her, while Rhiannon takes a little while longer to react. It's not often she's hugged, especially by girls who aren't Isla, but still finds herself returning the gesture, beginning by awkwardly patting Hailey's back. "You made a mistake. It's in the past."

          "Except no one ever lets me move on past it. Especially not my family or . . . or Connor. His family is the one who provided the house we'll be using for the experiment." Hailey drops her arms, stepping back, and her perfectly groomed brows are knitted together, almost forming a continuous line. "I thought I was safe here, but, with him being here . . . even Roman's family knows his. They also know mine. I'm almost certain Roman knows who I am because he must have heard someone call my name and heard me reply."

          "So? Do you think he's like Connor?" Rhiannon merely shrugs, a quick drooping of the shoulders. "I know we know next to nothing about him, but, frankly . . . I really don't think he's that type of person."

          "I also didn't—"

          "You just told me your gut always thought there was something off about Connor, Rhiannon. You said you were constantly on the edge around him, worrying about what he could do to screw you over because you knew that was the despicable human being he was; what does your gut tell you about Roman? Does it tell you anything remotely similar?"

          Rhiannon sighs, brushing her hair away from her face, and hates how Hailey, much like Isla, can be so damn rational all the time. "It doesn't tell me anything. It just tells me maybe I should keep my guard up because his family—"

          "Isn't that what you're so scared he'll think?" Hailey firmly crosses her arms in front of her chest and Rhiannon decides that trying to argue with the girl is simply a lost cause . . . because she's right and Rhiannon hates that she is. "I mean, aren't you scared he'll start making assumptions about you based on your family and the people you're associated to? Because, last time I checked, everyone knows your family and Jude's absolutely loathe one another."

          Without ever waiting for an answer, Hailey adds he's right there in the room (which ends up being, in fact, true, as he's sitting on an armchair with his white cane folded between his hands) and he's easy to talk to when people aren't trying to piss him off, so she should go there and do it.

          She doesn't want to do it. Really, she doesn't. All she wants to do is finally return to her comfort zone, as she has been away from it for far too long, but Hailey gives her a gentle push forward and she knows there's no way of escaping this situation. These are people who are used to getting what they want and she, too, used to be exactly like that.

          Thus, she does it, even though her heart feels about to jump out of her mouth when she stops in front of him.

          "Hi," Roman greets, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. Though he can't see her, he must have heard her arrive, as her boots' heels aren't short in the slightest (because, with it being a Saturday, she didn't have to go outside and face the snowy pavements). "Who is it?"

          "It's Rhiannon." She takes a deep breath. "Rhiannon Ford."

          "Ah. Ah, yes. Please, sit." Rhiannon obeys like a trained dog, sitting as still as a statue next to him, hands closed into fists over her legs. She's not scared of him, but the substances swimming in her bloodstream are absolutely out of control thanks to everything that led to this conversation, and she knows her body is moments away from activating a fight or flight response. "I heard they're taking us to the house later today. I'm sure it's lovely."

          "Oh," she blabbers, unsure of what to say in response to that. "Do you know if they've made it . . . accessible?"

          He nods. "I talked to Professor McCall about it and he let me know the bottom floor had been fixed to fit my needs." Roman purses his full lips together. "I appreciate the concern, since it clearly wouldn't have been practical to build an elevator in such a short period of time, but I'm just glad they took it into consideration. I really wasn't looking forward to taking the stairs every single day just to reach my bedroom."

          "Listen"—she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear—"if there's anything we can do . . ."

          "I can take care of myself, actually"—Rhiannon sinks into her seat, with embarrassment washing over her—"but thank you. Are you going to tell me what you want from me or should we keep making small talk?"

          "Right. I just . . . I just wanted to know what you know about me. Not in a self-absorbed way," she quickly adds, before he can use one of his typical snarky remarks, "but because you must have heard something about what my parents did. Everyone has. And I, uh, know your family knows the Duncans, and they're the ones lending the house for the experiment."

          Roman sighs. "What I heard doesn't matter. I prefer . . . forming my own opinions about people. Truth be told, you've been nothing but nice to me and I know just how ruthless these people can be, especially the Duncans." His lips twist into a wry smile. "I don't wish to associate myself with them. Whatever happened, happened. I think you're a good person, in spite of it all, because, yes, I know what happened. I also think you made a terrible mistake and you paid for it, but they took too much of you. You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry. If you ever need to talk, I'll be there to listen; I've been told I'm particularly good at that."

          She chews down on her bottom lip. "Thanks."

          "Still, if you ask me, I'd watch out if I was part of your hit list." He briefly pauses, visibly amused. "You could kill someone with those heels."