ROCKY - Operation Vengeance

Chapter 3- Return of the forgotten

THE WHITE MANSION

The estate was breathtaking.

Beyond the massive iron gates stretched an endless garden, glowing under the soft shimmer of golden lights. Well-dressed men in crisp suits and elegant women in gowns worth more than a year’s rent filled the space, laughing, sipping wine, and murmuring in hushed tones.

The air smelled of roses, champagne, and wealth.

But at the entrance—

Chaos.

Elizabeth stood at the gates, her hands clenched into fists. Her husband, Jonathan, stood beside her, silent as ever.

And in front of them, an unimpressed security guard blocked their way.

“I already told you,” the guard said, his voice firm. “No invitation, no entry.”

Elizabeth’s face twisted with rage.

“Do you know who I am?” she seethed.

The guard didn’t even blink. “I know you don’t have an invitation.”

Jonathan sighed, rubbing his temple. “Look, we left it at home. You can check the guest list, we’re—”

“No exceptions,” the guard interrupted.

Elizabeth’s nails dug into her palm.

She was about to snap—when suddenly—

“Mum?”

A voice rang out from the crowd.

Heads turned.

A young woman stepped forward, her silk dress flowing like water as she moved. Her beauty was effortless, her presence commanding.

Sophia.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Sophia?”

For the first time that night, surprise flickered across her face.

Sophia’s red lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she murmured.

Elizabeth straightened, quickly smoothing out her dress. “We, uh… of course we’re here. It’s an important night.”

Sophia’s gaze shifted to the guard.

Her expression darkened.

“And you…” She tilted her head, her voice sickly sweet. “You dare harass my parents?”

The guard stiffened. “I-I was just following protocol, ma’am—”

“Open the gate.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The iron doors swung open immediately.

Elizabeth exhaled in satisfaction, stepping forward with her chin high.

As they entered the grand estate, Sophia leaned in close, lowering her voice just enough for her mother to hear.

“Behave yourself,” she muttered. “Every important person in this state is here tonight.”

Elizabeth scoffed. “I know how to act, Sophia.”

Sophia gave her a pointed look but said nothing.

The moment they stepped inside, they were greeted by a pair of wealthy guests—an older couple dripping in diamonds and power.

Sophia smiled smoothly.

“Oh! I must introduce you.” She gestured toward her parents.

“This is my mother and father. The King and Queen.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught.

Jonathan blinked.

The couple gasped. “Oh, what an honor!”

Jonathan shot Sophia a sharp look.

What the hell was she playing at?

Sophia’s smile never wavered.

She simply looped her arm through Elizabeth’s and whispered,

“I told them we’re royalty.”

Elizabeth’s heart nearly stopped.

Sophia’s grip tightened.

“So now,” she murmured, “you just have to act like it.”

Elizabeth hesitated.

For a brief moment, she considered snapping at Sophia, demanding an explanation for this absurd lie.

But then—

She saw the look in the guests’ eyes.

Awe.

Respect.

Power.

It was intoxicating.

So, with the grace of a woman born into royalty, Elizabeth smiled.

She lifted her chin, let out a light, practiced laugh, and extended a delicate hand toward the wealthy couple.

“Oh, it’s such a pleasure to meet you,” she cooed. “We don’t usually attend public gatherings like this, but how could we refuse our darling Sophia?”

The guests practically melted.

“Oh, of course! Royalty must be so busy with important affairs,” the woman gushed, her jeweled fingers fluttering excitedly.

Elizabeth nodded sagely. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Jonathan, standing stiffly beside her, barely held back a scoff.

But before he could ruin it, Elizabeth subtly pressed her heel against his foot.

He straightened immediately.

Fine.

He would play along.

The guests, completely fooled, beamed with admiration.

And just when Elizabeth thought she had pulled it off—

A noise.

A commotion outside.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as heads turned toward the entrance.

The guards struggled to contain a man who had forced his way in, dodging their hands, slipping past their grips.

Sweating.

Panting.

Desperate.

Then—

A voice.

Loud.

Unrelenting.

“Mother-in-law!!”

Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat.

That voice.

No.

No, it couldn’t be—

Her head snapped toward the entrance, eyes wide.

And there he was.

Rocky.

Standing in the center of the grand hall.

Disheveled.

Breathless.

Completely out of place.

Elizabeth’s stomach dropped.

She gripped the fabric of her dress, her nails nearly piercing the silk.

This wasn’t happening.

Not now.

Not here.

Jonathan’s voice was tight with dread.

“Tell me you hear that.”

Elizabeth swallowed.

She did.

Oh, she did.

The murmurs began.

Guests whispering.

Staring.

Judging.

She turned back toward them, her face carefully blank, her heart pounding against her ribs.

She needed to act fast.

Before this ruined everything.

Rocky pushed through the last of the guards, his breathing ragged.

His eyes locked onto hers.

Elizabeth stiffened.

And then—

With the entire room watching—

She tilted her head, arched a perfectly groomed brow, and said,

“Who… is this poor-looking thing?”

Elizabeth blinked slowly, her lips parting in exaggerated confusion.

“I’m sorry…” she said, her voice ringing through the hall. “Do I know you?”

Rocky froze.

His chest rose and fell, breath still heavy from running. His clothes—cheap, wrinkled, stained with sweat—clashed horribly with the pristine luxury around him.

A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd.

“Who is he?” someone whispered.

“Did he just call her mother-in-law?”

A sharp laugh cut through the tension.

It was Sophia.

Her red lips curled in amusement as she turned toward the guests, shaking her head.

“Oh, don’t mind him,” she said airily. “We get… all sorts of people begging for attention.”

A chuckle. Then another.

Elizabeth caught on quickly, pressing a hand dramatically to her chest.

“Oh dear, is that what this is?” She tilted her head, studying Rocky like he was a pitiful stray dog. “Oh, poor thing. Did you think if you caused a scene, we’d take you in?”

More laughter.

Rocky’s fists clenched.

Elizabeth took a delicate step forward, voice dripping with false concern.

“You must be confused, young man,” she said, loud enough for all to hear. “I don’t recall having any… associations with someone like you.”

The laughter grew louder.

“Someone like him?” a man snorted. “Good heavens, look at his clothes! Did he sneak in through the servants’ entrance?”

“Maybe he’s a beggar!” a woman gasped, eyes gleaming with cruelty.

Rocky’s jaw tightened.

Elizabeth sighed dramatically, shaking her head.

“Guards, please,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “Escort this unfortunate soul out before he embarrasses himself any further.”

The guards stepped forward.

Rocky’s breath quickened.

His legs refused to move.

Then—

A loud, sharp voice cut through the laughter.

“Enough.”

Silence.

The entire room stilled.

standing at the top of the marble staircase, was an old man.

Dressed in a suit finer than anything in the around.

Eyes cold.

Expression unreadable.

His presence alone was enough to kill the noise.

The guests exchanged uneasy glances.

Then, slowly, he descended the steps.

Each click of his polished shoes against the marble sent tension through the air.

He stopped at the front , gaze sweeping over the crowd.

“The party,” he announced, his voice smooth but firm, “is over.”

Murmurs of protest rose.

“Effective immediately,” the man added, tone leaving no room for argument.

More silence.

And then—

His gaze fell on Rocky.

Rocky, still standing there, fists clenched, shoulders tense.

The man’s expression shifted.

Barely.

But enough.

His breath hitched.

His pupils shrank.

Fear flickered in his eyes.

His lips parted slightly—

And then, barely above a whisper, he muttered—

“R..Rocky?”