Meanwhile, a few doors down at the far end of the hallway, Magnus sat in silence, already three moves ahead.

Roman thought he had exposed the truth. He had only made the first mistake.

That had bought him time. Time to think, to move pieces into place. As far as he was concerned, Roman was already several steps behind, either scrambling or chasing the wrong trail.

Magnus leaned back slightly in his chair, his fingers resting against the armrest, his thoughts settling into a quiet rhythm.

Then—

A sharp knock cut cleanly through the stillness, and Magnus lifted his gaze to the door but said nothing.

A second passed, then the handle turned, and the door opened just enough for Vance to lean in.

"The physiotherapist is here," he said, his tone as composed as ever.

Magnus’s eyes shifted, focus sharpening again. He gave a small nod, straightening slightly in his seat. "Send him in."

Vance inclined his head and stepped back, opening the door wider.

A man entered, steady, self-assured. He gave Vance a brief nod before walking further into the room, the soft tap of his shoes echoing faintly against the floor.

As he approached the desk, he extended his hand. Magnus rose just enough to meet it, clasping it in a firm handshake.

"I’m Noah," the man said. "Noah Carpenter. The physiotherapist."

Magnus studied him for a brief moment, then nodded. "Please," he said, gesturing toward the chair opposite him. "Have a seat."

Noah sat, adjusting slightly, posture straight but relaxed. "Thank you, Mr. Whitehall."

Magnus didn’t waste time. "So tell me, Noah, how long will it take for you to get Estelle walking again?"

Noah shifted subtly in his chair, a polite smile touching his lips. "Well, sir, I’ll need to assess her first before I can give you a definite answer."

Magnus’s expression cooled almost immediately. "And that’s not what the medical report was for?" he asked, his tone tightening. "I would have thought—"

"With all due respect, sir," Noah cut in.

The interruption hung in the air.

Magnus’s brows drew together slightly, and Vance shifted where he stood near the door, but neither of them spoke.

Noah continued, calm and unshaken. "The reports are useful. I’ve gone through them in fact," he said. "But they’re only part of the picture. I need my own assessment. That starts with a physical examination."

A quiet pause followed.

Magnus leaned back slowly, his gaze drifting to Vance for the briefest second before returning to Noah.

Noah exhaled softly, folding his hands together. "I understand you don’t know me," he added. "But there’s a reason I was recommended. Out of thousands, I was chosen because I know what I’m doing."

The confidence wasn’t loud, but it was steady. Grounded.

Magnus watched him for another moment, then let out a measured breath. Finally, he nodded. "Very well," he said. He pushed his chair back, the legs gliding softly against the floor as he stood. "We’ll go to her together. I want to see this myself."

There was a quiet insistence in his tone now, controlled, but firm. "I need to be certain I’m hiring the best man for the job," he added, adjusting his cuffs. "Because I want her walking within a week, if that’s even remotely possible."

"That’s impossible," Noah said, the words slipping out before he could soften them.

Magnus paused mid-rise, one hand still gripping the back of his chair. The leather creaked faintly under the sudden halt. The room cooled.

"What do you mean, impossible?" Vance snapped, stepping forward, his voice sharp enough to cut. "If it’s impossible, then why are you here wasting our time?"

Noah didn’t react immediately. He glanced at Vance, then shifted his gaze back to Magnus, steady and unflinching.

"If you’re looking for someone who will tell you what you want to hear," he said, rising from his seat, "then I’m not your man."

He bent slightly, picking up his briefcase from the floor, the metal clasps clicking softly as it swung into his grip.

"I don’t overpromise," he continued. "I don’t give false hope. That’s not how I built my reputation."

He nudged the chair back into place and turned toward the door.

But Vance moved first. He took a step forward, blocking the path. "Mr. Whitehall hasn’t dismissed you," he said, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument.

Noah stopped. He exhaled quietly, then turned back to Magnus without a word, waiting.

For a brief moment, Magnus said nothing. He simply watched him. Measured him. Something calculating flickered behind his eyes.

You’ll be useful, he thought.

"You’re either very confident," Magnus said slowly, "or very foolish."

Noah held his gaze. "Only one of those keeps clients alive."

Then, slowly, Magnus’s expression shifted. The tension eased from his face, replaced by a smile. Almost too smooth.

"I think," Magnus said, glancing briefly at Vance before returning his gaze to Noah, "we’ve just found the perfect man for the job."

Vance frowned slightly, caught off guard by the sudden change, but he said nothing.

Magnus stepped forward now, closing the distance between them. "You’ve got the job," he added.

Noah’s brows lifted a fraction, but he didn’t interrupt.

Magnus placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm pat, friendly on the surface, but weighted with intent. "But there’s one condition," he continued. "Confidentiality. Absolute confidentiality."

His voice dropped slightly. "No one, especially my son, must know why you’re really here."

Noah paused. He studied Magnus for a moment, something cautious settling into his expression. "Is there a reason for that?" he asked.

"You’re asking—" Vance began, irritation already rising.

"Of course there is," Magnus cut in smoothly, waving him off. He let out a quiet breath, shaking his head as if burdened by the thought. "My son," he began, his tone shifting, softer now, almost regretful. "He won’t let her recover."

Noah’s gaze sharpened.

Magnus held it, leaning into the lie with practiced ease. "You’ve seen cases like this before," he said quietly. "Patients who don’t recover. Not because they can’t, but because someone benefits from it."

The words settled heavily in the room.

"So this isn’t just about doing what I ask," Magnus added, his voice low, persuasive. "You’d be helping her. Giving her back her life."

A brief pause.

"Can you do that?"

Noah hesitated for a second, weighing the words, then gave a small nod. "As long as it’s what she wants," he said, "I have no problem with it."

Magnus’s smile returned, subtle this time, satisfied. "Good."

They began to move toward the door together.

Behind them, Vance slipped a hand into his pocket as his phone buzzed faintly against his thigh. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

For a split second, his expression shifted. Then a slow smile spread across his face. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

He locked the screen again and followed after them, quiet, composed, but with something darker settling beneath the surface.