TW: This chapter contains content that might be upsetting, including mention of toxic behavior and abuse. Read at your own discretion.

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Her house was silent as usual but she knew her brother was home, judging by his car parked in the driveway. That knowledge made her more cautious and though she could not avoid passing by Romero's room, she made sure to keep her distance from being pulled in again.

Pushing the door open to her room, she stepped in and locked it, switching on a dim lamp. Her clutch was placed on her vanity table and she opened it but saw that the bracelet was missing. Instead, there was another box placed beside it that she didn't need to open to guess what was inside.

Tim suspected that her brother was sending her death threats and that was quite a plausible suspicion. At first, she had thought that too.

But what would Romero get from killing her? 

He was not interested in being the sole inheritor of their father's wealth, contrary to what others might believe. He already had enough on his hands to keep in check and he knew very well that Roxanne had willed her share of wealth to be given to his son Colin Donnelley after her.

He was in no hurry to snatch what was hers too soon.

Besides, she also knew very well that she was the only thing teetering him to sanity. If he killed her, he would no longer be able to keep himself sane.

He had a lot to lose if he lost Roxanne.

"You didn't see the present," his voice reached her and she froze, realizing that he had been there the whole time.

"Why haven't you gone to bed yet?" She asked, picking up the box from the vanity table to see what was inside.

It held an even more expensive bracelet than the one she had agreed to be given to his men if they succeeded in their task. But it wasn't thick enough to hide any bruises, it was just a bracelet; thin gold chains holding together a string of gems.

"I was waiting for you," he replied, "I wanted to hear if my men did well on their task or should they be punished."

"They did well," she remarked, "thank you for letting me borrow them."

He stood up from the couch and she stepped back, the wall behind her blocking her from retreating further. 

"I heard he beat them up quite well," he remarked, "not what I would expect from a boy like him."

"Why are you bringing him up again? I told you there's nothing serious..." But her voice trailed off, catching the murderous glint in his eyes. 

"You're going to ruin him, Roxy," he had taken the bracelet from her hand, holding it up to fasten on her right wrist, the one that held no bruise.

At least not yet.

"For better or for worse, that's my choice not yours."

"At least for the time that I am in Gotham, stay away from him," he whispered, dark brown eyes piercing through her.

Roxanne knew she was taking a risk. Her hand was still held in his and he could twist it enough for it to break if he got angered. But she took that risk nevertheless.

"I don't forbid you from bringing your women into my home. Why do you have such a problem then? This is not Dublin, Rom, this is my turf."

He let go of her hand but didn't step back, eyes glaring still as he voiced out those poisonous words, "it's just that he reminds me so much of Adrian. Polite, charming, and way too good for you..." 

Every time he brought that name up, it would slice through her heart akin to a cold dagger plunged through. And then Tim's words flashed in her memory: Don't let your brother kill me then.

"Why do your lovers have to be so damn infuriating?"

"You will not kill him," she spoke up, her hands closing onto his shirt, "you will not do anything to hurt him, understand? Promise me, you won't."

He laughed at her getting frantic, "why though? You just said he's nothing serious."

"But he is mine, okay? I get to do what I want with him," she remarked, grip tightening although he did nothing just yet, "whether I keep him, ruin him, or kill him, that's none of your concern. He is none of your concern."

"He's not my concern but you are." 

He tore her hands away from his shirt, spinning her around as he held her in a chokehold. He had always been more powerful than her in terms of physical strength and she knew she wouldn't be able to break free even if she tried.

"Rom, don't do this. Please," she gasped as his hold tightened, making it difficult for her to move even.

"I will kill him if he dares to take you away from me," he threatened, his grip relentless and making her struggle to breathe, "feed it in this pretty head of yours."

Her nails dug into his forearm, scratching his skin to make him let go of her and when he did, she fell to the floor, feeling suffocated. He had bent down too, his hand brushing back her hair from her face, wiping the furious tears that had spilled from her eyes.

"Necklaces always look good on you," he remarked as if he hadn't almost choked her right then, "maybe you should wear the one I got you. The alexandrites on it were very costly and I had to go out of my way to get it."

Her brown eyes were full of hatred as she drew back from him; she was sick of that repetition of anger and abuse she had to suffer at his hands. All for the cost of him not hurting other people when he had one person he could take out all his anger on.

"Get out of my room," she spoke up, her voice reduced to a rasp, "leave..."

He stood up but left an envelope in her lap. It was an invite to Wayne Enterprises' much-awaited Fall Gala. "You have to go with me. And wear that necklace, I know you have plenty of dresses that could match with it."

"I don't want to..."

"Tim will be there," he replied with a sly smirk, knowing that would get a reaction out of her.

She stood up, pushing him out of her way, "go to hell."

"You have to come," he repeated, "you must if you don't want me to cause a scene."

She had crossed over to the bathroom and slammed the door shut, locking it as right then it seemed the only way of separating her from the beast outside.

It hurt because she knew she had as much of a part in turning him into the beast she was now afraid of. If she hadn't silently borne his rage earlier and gotten him the help he needed, perhaps things would not have come to that point.

Her hands closed onto the sink to keep herself standing, her breathing unsteady as she splashed her face with water. She was too tired to soak herself fully in hot water until it numbed out all the pain. 

So when she heard her brother's footsteps retreat and the door of her room fall shut, she came out at last, checking that he wasn't still in there as she went up to lock the door.

Exhausted from everything she had to deal with, she slipped out of her dress and got into her bed, wrapping herself up with the blanket. Tears were still gathering up on her lashes as she thought of what to do to stop feeling so terrible.

At last, she picked up her phone and dialed Tim, feeling he would be awake.

He picked up after two rings and she let his voice seep into her, "Hello?"

"Hey, I hope you were not asleep," she mumbled, keeping the phone close to her.

"I wasn't," he replied but then spoke up, "is everything alright?"

"Yeah. I just... Can you talk to me?"

There was silence on the other line until he asked, "are you okay?"

"Of course," she replied, keeping her voice as steady as she could, "I heard you guys are hosting the Fall Gala again. I have never been to one so I was just wondering if you could tell me what I should prepare myself for."

"Oh..." His voice seemed slightly dubious and she knew he had that habit of looking past her acts. Perhaps he had guessed something was wrong and she had just called him to distract herself from it, "so you're attending this year?"

"I have to," she remarked with a soft sigh, "tell me what it's like. Please."

He definitely knew something was wrong with her as his next remark proved it, "I can tell you in person if you want to."

"I just want to hear you talk," she mumbled, "I feel like it would put me to sleep. But if you're busy, I can hang up."

"No, it's alright," he replied and she felt a strange sort of comfort to hear that, "I guess I should start by telling you why the Gala is held."

She hummed in reply, listening to his voice as he told her about the event, the guest list, the management and everything in between. And as he talked, she felt her frayed nerves relax, her mind focusing only on the sound of his voice.

She could easily listen to him speak for hours, she thought, her eyes falling shut at last. It was no doubt the softest lullaby she had ever heard.

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