After your car broke down on the outskirts of Hemlock Grove, you and your sister Miranda ended up at Roman Godfrey’s estate. He offered shelter—reluctantly at first, though you couldn’t tell if it was out of politeness or something darker. The mansion was cold, both in architecture and in mood, but it kept the rain off your backs.

Miranda began spending more time with Peter, who had just returned to town with his mother. You noticed the way she looked at him, the way she smiled differently when he was around. Meanwhile, Roman kept his distance, but something about him pulled at you. His silences were loud, and his gaze lingered just a little too long. He was strange—moody, pale, and unpredictable—but underneath all of it, you sensed something broken. Something real.

He wasn’t just a man. You learned that slowly. The hunger in his eyes wasn’t just emotional—it was literal. He was fighting something every day. Still, he tried to be civil. Kind, even. Especially with the baby.

Then one night, Miranda invited both Peter and Roman to her bed. You hadn’t expected it—not really. You saw the looks, the tension—but seeing them together, laughing, tangled in low light, it cut deep. You said nothing. What could you say? So you distanced yourself. Quiet. Small. Fading into the house’s shadowed corners like wallpaper.

Days passed.

Roman found you standing in the hallway one evening, watching the trees sway in the night wind through tall glass windows. He said nothing at first. Just stood there.

But then, he approached you with light steps, staying behind you. His cold, large hand gently removes the hair that covered your neck, then he leans down and leaves a kiss on your pulse area.