Words Of Wisdom
The house was quiet. Which wasn't uncommon for Rowan.
He lived alone and sometimes he wished he had someone around but he couldn't bring himself to get one.
The only person while he seems to enjoy her presence hates his guts with so much passion.
Rowan sat on the edge of his bed, staring at nothing, his mind running on an endless loop.
The pain in his side had dulled, but the bandages were fresh, his wounds properly taken care of. His personal physician had come and gone, checking his vitals, re-stitching a wound on his shoulder, and advising him to rest.
He wasn’t going to.
Not when his thoughts wouldn’t shut off.
Not when the memory of the island, of her, was still burned into his mind.
Remi.
Her name sat heavily on his tongue, the taste of her still lingering in his thoughts.
The woman who had saved him. The woman he had saved.
The woman who seemed connected to him in more ways than one.
He clenched his jaw.
She had been distant after they returned. Avoiding him.
Like what happened between them meant nothing.
Rowan wasn’t sure if that pissed him off or if it hurt.
Probably both.
His phone vibrated beside him, but he ignored it.
Then—
Footsteps.
Loud. Familiar.
Exhausting.
His door swung open without a knock, and he knew exactly who it was before he even turned his head.
“Are you just going to sit there all day?” His father’s deep voice filled the room, heavy with disapproval.
Rowan sighed. “I was hoping to.”
His father barely spared him a glance before walking inside, his presence commanding even when unwanted.
Right behind him was his mother, lips pursed, brows furrowed in that way that meant she had something to lecture about.
And then his grandfather, Sebastian Vaughn, moving at a slower pace, his expression unreadable.
Rowan suppressed a groan.
Of course. A full family intervention.
“How are you feeling?” his grandfather asked, taking a seat across from him.
Rowan shrugged. “Alive.”
His father exhaled sharply. “Good. Then we can talk about Gigi.”
Rowan’s head snapped up.
“You’re kidding.”
His father folded his arms. “She’s been coming to see us, pleading for you to give her another chance. You should listen to her.”
Rowan barked out a laugh. “I just passed through a life-or-death situation, and you care about Gigi?”
“She’s concerned about you,” his father said, eyes narrowing. “Unlike some people.”
Rowan tilted his head. “Some people?”
His mother’s lips curled.
“The plague,” she muttered.
Rowan frowned. “What?”
His mother’s cold gaze met his. “Remi.”
Silence stretched between them.
His muscles locked.
His father sighed. “You can’t be seriously considering getting involved with her again, Rowan. This experience. You investing in her. I do not want it.”
Rowan ran a hand down his face, trying to hold onto whatever patience he had left. “I nearly died, and this is what you’re worried about?”
His mother scoffed. “You nearly died because of her.”
Rowan’s eyes flashed. “Excuse me?”
She lifted her chin. “If she wasn’t involved, do you really think someone would have tampered with your plane?”
Rowan went still.
His father nodded. “Think about it, son. This woman—this Remi—she’s nothing but trouble. She always has been.”
Always has been.
Like she was a disease.
A mistake.
Rowan hated that.
He gritted his teeth. “I lost my memory once. I won’t let you rewrite it.”
His mother’s face hardened. “We’re trying to protect you.”
“No,” he said coldly. “You’re trying to control me. That may have worked for teenager Rowan but not for me.”
His grandfather, who had remained quiet, finally spoke.
“Rowan.” His voice was calm, measured. “We just need to know where you stand. Gigi is still waiting. Do you want her or not?”
Rowan didn’t hesitate.
“No.”
His father tensed.
His mother’s jaw tightened.
But his grandfather just nodded, as if he had expected it.
Rowan exhaled. “If this conversation is over, leave.”
His father gave him a long, disappointed look before walking out.
His mother lingered, her stare burning into him.
Then she turned sharply and left.
Only his grandfather remained.
Sebastian Vaughn watched him carefully. “You’re changing.”
Rowan didn’t answer.
His grandfather nodded to himself, standing slowly. “Don’t let it make you weak.”
Then he, too, was gone.
And Rowan sat there, seething.
Because if his mother was right—if someone had messed with the plane—
Then he needed to find out why.
His fingers drummed against his thigh, his jaw locked as the door finally clicked shut.
Silence.
Finally.
His father’s voice still echoed in his head, sharp and grating.
"She’s nothing but trouble. She always has been."
He exhaled harshly, rubbing a hand over his face.
He didn’t need this. Not now.
Not after everything.
The last thing he wanted was another discussion about who he should or shouldn’t have in his life. His parents had done enough deciding for him already.
They didn’t even know Remi.
And yet, they hated her.
That alone made him question everything.
His fist clenched.
He needed facts.
Not opinions. Not vague warnings.
He needed the truth.
A sudden knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts.
Before he could even bark at whoever it was to leave—
“Rowan, my dear.”
His tension eased just slightly.
Only one person spoke to him like that.
Lady Isolde stepped into the room, regal as ever, her cane tapping softly against the floor. Despite her age, her presence filled the space effortlessly, as if she were the only authority that mattered.
She dropped a flask on the table beside his bed.
She took one look at him and sighed. “Still brooding, I see. I brought your favorite mushroom soup. It works magic.”
Rowan leaned back against the headrest, running a hand through his hair. “I just had a family meeting.”
Her lips twitched. “Ah. That explains the storm clouds over your head. Good thing I avoided that grouch of a man.”
She meant his grandfather and that made Rowan chuckled.
She walked toward him, taking her time, her eyes full of wisdom as usual.
Then she settled onto the chair across from him, folding her hands neatly over her cane.
“I hear you survived the impossible,” she said.
Rowan smirked faintly. “Apparently.”
“Hmm.” She tilted her head, studying him. “And I hear that you weren’t alone.”
His smirk faded.
Lady Isolde’s lips curved slightly. “Remi Laurent.”
Rowan exhaled. “You’re not going to start too, are you?”
“Start what?”
“Telling me she’s trouble.”
Lady Isolde gave a soft tsk, shaking her head. “No, no, my dear. Quite the opposite.”
Rowan’s brows furrowed. “What?”
She smiled. “That woman kept me alive, you know.”
He stilled.
“She checked on me when no one else would,” Lady Isolde continued. “She looked after me. Treated me with care. When I was weak, when I was at my worst—she never turned away.”
Rowan’s throat tightened.
He hadn’t expected that.
Lady Isolde sighed, leaning forward. “You’re not asking the right questions, my boy.”
He frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”
She patted his hand gently. “Look deeper.”
He blinked. “Deeper into what?”
But she was already standing, a knowing glint in her eyes.
“Be careful where you step, Rowan. Enjoy the soup.”
And with that, she walked out, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
And his questions.
His many questions.
Rowan exhaled slowly, pulling out his phone.
He scrolled down, found the number, and pressed call.
The line rang twice before a familiar voice answered.
“Callum,” Rowan said.
A pause.
Then—
“What do you need?”
Rowan’s grip tightened on the phone.
“Investigate the plane crash. Anything that I might think it's important. Last camera footage too.”
*****
Readers Do Note:
Sebastian Vance was the investigator Rowan called on to dig up information about Remi. His name is indeed similar to Rowan’s grandfather, Sebastian Vaughn, but they are not the same person. In Rowan’s family, the name Sebastian is a tradition a tribute to a revered ancestor. So while it might seem confusing at first, it's just a coincidence, or rather a deliberate nod to family heritage. The Sebastian working for Rowan is a separate individual, tasked with uncovering the truth about Remi and Rowan’s past, while Rowan’s grandfather, also named Sebastian, is part of the legacy that Rowan has always been expected to uphold.
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