Villain Hiring: Help! Author Wants Me Dead-Chapter 85 : Run?

Venus exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple as if warding off a headache. His gaze flickered to me, his black eyes unreadable. Then, without a word, he stood.

I watched him cautiously. "What now?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned toward the grand doors of the throne hall. The air between us was heavy—thick with everything unsaid.

Then he spoke.

"Come with me."

I hesitated. "Where?"

"You'll see."

Something about his tone made me uneasy. But I followed.

Venus led me out of the hall, his steps slow and deliberate. The palace was quiet, the echoes of our footsteps the only sound.

At first, I assumed we were heading toward the estate's deeper chambers—the place where all the decisions of the Romero clan were made.

But we didn't.

Instead, we walked a different path.

One I hadn't taken in years.

It was only when we stepped outside, passing through the estate's private gardens, that realization struck.

My breath caught.

I knew this path.

Knew where it led.

Venus remained silent as we walked, but I could feel his gaze on me, watching, waiting for the moment I would understand.

Then I saw it.

My steps faltered.

A house stood before me, nestled against the estate's outer grounds.

My childhood home.

A place I hadn't seen since my parents died.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

The house was the same.

Untouched by time.

Dark wooden walls, small windows with drawn curtains, a balcony where I once sat, waiting for father to return from his travels. Even the old lantern by the door was still there, hanging slightly crooked, just like I remembered.

I swallowed hard. "Why…"

Venus spoke softly. "I never let them tear it down."

I turned to him, my hands clenched at my sides.

He stared at the house, his expression unreadable. "I kept it maintained all these years. I couldn't bring myself to erase it."

The words hit harder than I expected.

This place… was my real home. Not the grand halls of the estate, not the cold training grounds, but this.

Where my mother's laughter once echoed. Where my father's hand ruffled my hair after long days of work.

My throat tightened.

It had been so long.

Too long.

Venus finally looked at me. "Go inside."

I hesitated.

The past was a dangerous thing.

But my feet moved on their own.

The door creaked as I pushed it open. A rush of air, warm and familiar, greeted me.

The inside was exactly as I remembered.

A small living space, a fireplace with a few stacked logs beside it.

A wooden table near the kitchen where we once ate together. The scent of aged wood and faded memories hung in the air.

I stepped further in, my fingers grazing the edge of a chair.

The ache in my chest deepened.

Everything was the same.

And yet, it wasn't.

Because they weren't here.

My parents.

They would never be here again.

I let out a slow breath, forcing the knot in my throat to loosen.

I wouldn't break.

Not here.

Not now.

Venus entered behind me, his steps quiet. He walked over to the fireplace, running a hand over the mantle. "You were always so small," he murmured.

"I remember watching you sit right there"—Gesturing to the old armchair, the old man continued, "with that ridiculous oversized book, trying to read before you even knew how."

A faint, almost bitter smile tugged at my lips. "I wanted to be like my father."

Venus nodded. "He was a good man."

Silence settled between us.

Then he placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I didn't want to lose you too."

The words were quiet, but they carried a weight that I hadn't expected.

I glanced up at him.

His usual sharp, calculating presence had softened, just for a moment.

It was strange.

Venus Romero, my grandfather, the man who cast me out… looked at me not as an enemy.

Not as an heir.

But as family.

The tension in my chest eased, if only slightly.

I exhaled. "I'm still here."

His grip on my shoulder tightened for a second before he pulled away.

"You're stronger than I thought," he admitted.

I scoffed. "You thought I'd break?"

"You nearly did," he said bluntly. "But you held yourself together. That's good."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.

Venus smirked. "You should appreciate it. I don't say things like that often."

I snorted. "I've noticed."

Venus exhaled, his gaze lingering on the dimly lit room.

"You expected me to stay the same?"

"No," Venus admitted, turning to face me. "But I didn't expect you to carry yourself like this."

I frowned. "Like what?"

"Like someone who's already seen the worst the world has to offer."

I didn't respond.

Because he wasn't wrong.

Venus studied me, his sharp black eyes searching for something—maybe an answer, maybe a confirmation of what he already suspected.

Then he said, "After all, you're still a Romero."

Something in me tensed.

That name.

That damned name.

I had spent years trying to push it away, to pretend it didn't mean anything. Yet here he was, dragging it back to the surface.

I let out a dry chuckle. "Is that supposed to comfort me?"

Venus raised a brow. "Is it not?"

I clenched my jaw. "You exiled me. Stripped me of everything. And now you want to say I'm still a Romero?"

His expression didn't waver. "Names don't define what we are, Noah. Actions do."

I stared at him, unblinking. "Then what do my actions say about me?"

Venus was silent for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he pulled out a chair and sat down, resting his arms on his knees.

"They say you're a survivor." His voice was quiet, but firm. "That you're strong enough to stand even when the world tries to break you."

I didn't move.

Venus glanced at the worn-out table, his fingers tracing its edges. "I exiled you because I thought you needed to learn. That you needed to suffer before you could truly understand what it meant to live." His eyes flicked back to me. "I was wrong."

The admission stunned me.

Venus Romero. Admitting a mistake?

I almost didn't believe it.

"What changed?" I asked, my voice softer than I intended.

He leaned back slightly, watching me. "You did."

I let out a slow breath, stepping further into the room. "So what now?"

Venus's lips twitched slightly, but there was no humor in his gaze. "Now, we move forward."

I didn't know what that meant.

Did he want me to come back? To reclaim my place in this family?

I wasn't sure if I wanted that.

Venus must have seen the hesitation in my eyes because he sighed, rubbing his temple. "No matter if you were a Romero or not," he said, his voice quieter now, "you will always be my grandson."

His eyes softened, just for a moment.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper—one that felt more genuine than anything I had heard from him before—he spoke again.

"...Noah."

My breath hitched.

Not a boy.

Not a child.

Not an heir.

Just Noah.

For the first time in years, I didn't feel like I was standing in front of the Clan Head of the Romeros.

I was standing in front of my grandfather.

And for once,

I didn't feel the urge to run.

***