Estelle’s heart seemed to stutter, then slam hard against her ribs. She looked at Vance, her gaze sharp, demanding.

"Okay? Go on," she said, the eagerness in her voice barely contained.

Vance opened his mouth, but Magnus lifted a hand, stopping him with a small shake of his head.

"No, Vance. Not now," he said, his tone low, almost careful.

Vance exhaled and stepped back.

That hesitation only made Estelle’s stomach knot tighter. Something was wrong, deeply wrong. Her eyes moved between them, searching their faces, trying to read what they weren’t saying.

"No, please," she said, her voice thinner now, edged with urgency. Her gaze locked on Vance. "I need to hear it. What about Roman?"

Beside her, Noah remained still, but his attention sharpened. His eyes flicked between Magnus and Vance, unease settling into his expression. Whatever this was, it wasn’t going to help her.

Vance drew in a breath to speak, but Noah shook his head. "If this is something that will hurt her, then you shouldn’t say it," he said firmly. He turned to Magnus. "Bad news will only worsen her condition. It could slow her recovery. We don’t—"

"No." Estelle’s voice cut through, firm despite the tremor beneath it. She lifted her hand slightly, stopping Noah before he could continue. Her breathing had quickened, shallow but steady enough.

"Whatever it is," she said, her eyes never leaving Vance, "I want to hear it."

Noah hesitated, then stepped back with a quiet sigh, though the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease.

Vance moved forward again, something faint and unreadable flickering in his eyes. "Well," he began lightly, "it’s not something to tell you, it’s something to show you."

Estelle’s pulse thudded painfully in her chest as she watched him pull out his phone, his fingers moving quickly across the screen. The faint glow reflected in her eyes as he stepped closer and held it out to her.

She swallowed, her throat dry, and looked down.

"Roman asked that you be given this," Vance said.

For a moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Then her eyes began to scan the screen.

The first line hit, and something inside her cracked.

Estelle Rutledge, I’m glad that you finally decided to leave—

Her fingers curled slightly against the bedsheet, her nails pressing into the thin fabric. The room felt colder somehow, the air heavier against her skin, as though the walls had inched closer without her noticing.

—I have decided to focus on my life. Forget about me, Estelle—

Her vision blurred for a second, moisture gathering at the edges, but she blinked it back stubbornly. Her chest tightened, each breath shallow, forced.

—I have decided to get back with Lena. She is the woman for me, the only one. Good luck, Estelle.

The words lingered long after she finished reading, echoing in her mind like a cruel refrain.

Silence settled in the room, thick and suffocating, but Estelle didn’t speak. She just stared at the screen, her expression still as the weight of the words slowly sank in.

A faint ringing filled her ears, drowning out everything else. For a moment, she wasn’t even aware of the men in the room anymore, only the message, the finality of it, the coldness in every line.

Her grip on the sheets loosened gradually, her fingers going numb, as if her body no longer knew what to hold on to.

Something warm slid down her cheek, catching her off guard. For a second, she didn’t understand what it was until she felt the damp trail against her skin. A tear.

Before it could fall any further, she lifted her hand and wiped it away, her fingers brushing quickly, almost impatiently. Her chest ached, tight and hollow at the same time, but the softness in her eyes didn’t last. It hardened, cooling into something sharper, steadier.

She lifted her gaze. First to Magnus. Then to Vance.

A quiet breath left her lips. "Roman wrote that," she said, not a question, not even uncertainty. Just a statement.

She didn’t wait for either of them to confirm it. Instead, she turned her head toward Noah, her voice calmer now, stripped of everything unnecessary. "We can carry on."

Magnus’s brows drew together for a brief moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes before he smoothed it over. Vance, however, stepped forward, reaching as though to take her hand.

"Estelle, I know—"

She cut him off with a look. A small shake of her head followed, firm and final. "I don’t need your pity," she said quietly. Then, with a slight tilt of her chin toward the door, "I just need you to leave so Noah can do his job."

The room seemed to be still for a beat.

Magnus studied her, his gaze lingering as though trying to peel back whatever she was hiding. When he couldn’t, his lips curved into a measured smile. He stepped closer, his presence heavy at her bedside.

"He replaced you quickly," Magnus said quietly. "That’s what happens when a woman becomes inconvenient."

His gaze dipped briefly to her legs before returning to her face. "Now the question is, what are you going to do about it? Remember, with every passing day, your list of betrayers grows."

Estelle held his gaze, unflinching. Slowly, she lifted her chin. "I know exactly what I need to do."

Then, without looking at him again, she turned slightly. "Noah, shall we?"

There was nothing left to say.

Magnus exhaled through his nose, then turned and walked out, Vance following close behind. The door clicked shut behind them, the sound soft but final, sealing the room in a fragile quiet.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Noah watched her carefully, his brows drawn together, concern settling into his expression. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

Estelle let out a small breath, then shook her head, a faint, almost ironic smile touching her lips. "Optimistic," she said.

He blinked, caught off guard. "Optimistic?"

She nodded, her gaze drifting briefly to the door before returning to him. "Roman didn’t write that," she added, more firmly this time. "They did a terrible job lying."

Noah frowned slightly. "You’re sure?"

"Yes." Her gaze didn’t waver. "He doesn’t explain himself like that. He acts first." She paused for a beat. "And he wouldn’t give me an exit. Not like this."

Noah nodded slowly at first, and then his brows furrowed. "And what if he did write it?" he asked carefully. "Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think. Just maybe."

The words landed, heavier than she expected.

For a split second, something flickered in her eyes, doubt, sharp and unwelcome. She looked away, swallowing past the tightness in her throat. The possibility lingered, clawing at the edges of her certainty.

But she didn’t let it stay.

She turned back to him, her expression set again, resolve settling into place. "Then help me prove it," she said, her voice quieter now, but unwavering.