For the first time, something flickered in Magnus’s eyes. Surprise, brief, fleeting. Gone just as quickly. Then Vance stepped closer, leaning in toward him, his voice low, meant only for Magnus.

"I found Roman in her bed."

Estelle didn’t hear the words fully, but she didn’t need to because she knew. Her spine straightened instinctively, her expression tightening as she faced Magnus again.

He looked at her differently now. "So," Magnus said slowly, "you think one night in your bed is enough to change who Roman is?" His jaw hardened as he spoke.

Estelle shook her head. "I don’t think it changes anything," she replied, her voice steady despite the lie sitting heavy on her chest. "But he deserves to know." She paused briefly. "He’s my husband."

Magnus let out a short laugh, unexpected, almost amused, but it faded as quickly as it came. "And if I say no?" he asked.

Estelle held his gaze. "Then you’ll be making a costly mistake," she said quietly. Then she turned her head slightly, looking past him. "I’m ready to go." 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Vance hesitated, glancing at Magnus, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he waited for instruction. Magnus didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on Estelle, his nostrils flaring slightly, something unreadable passing through his expression.

But Estelle didn’t wait. She had already turned her gaze away.

The man holding her shifted his grip and carried her toward the door, the cool night air brushing faintly against her skin as they stepped outside, leaving Magnus standing behind in the silence.

—

Magnus stood still, his fists clenched at his sides, his gaze fixed on the door Estelle had just passed through. The foyer had fallen quiet again, but the tension lingered, thick in the air.

Vance watched him carefully, his own pulse faintly audible in his ears. "I think you’re giving her too much liberty," he said at last, his tone measured.

Magnus didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he crossed his arms slowly, his gaze still distant, a muscle ticking along his jaw.

"First, he snoops. Now he’s in her bed," he murmured, almost to himself. He paused, looking at Vance briefly before turning back to the closed door. "When did they get that close?"

Vance exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. Then his brows drew together as a thought rushed in. "Does that not work in your favor?" he asked. "For the plan?"

Magnus’s brows drew together as he let out a low breath. "It would have, if she hadn’t just challenged me." His eyes darkened, focus sharpening. "They’re getting too close," he continued, his voice calm but edged with something colder. "And I think it’s time to adjust things."

Vance’s brows furrowed. "Adjust how, Sir?"

Magnus turned his head slightly, finally looking at him. "I wanted them married," he said, "but not close enough to start thinking for themselves. Not close enough to plot behind me." His tone hardened just a fraction. "If that happens, everything falls apart."

He took a slow step forward, his expression settling into something deliberate. "I need to put space between them," he added. "A temporary rift. Something that forces them back into line."

A faint, almost amused breath left his lips. "They can get close," Magnus said, "but only on my terms." His lips curved slightly. "And I must admit, I prefer them when they’re at each other’s throats."

Vance’s mouth tilted into a knowing smile. He nodded once. "I’m at your service, Sir."

—

And now, minutes before the game—

Estelle sat upright on the hospital bed, the crisp fabric of the gown rustling faintly as she shifted. The room smelled sterile, sharp antiseptic, and something faintly metallic, cool against her skin.

A nurse adjusted the edge of the gown, then gently secured a hair cover over Estelle’s head, tucking away loose strands. "I’ll inform the doctor that we’re ready," she said softly, already turning toward the door.

Estelle nodded, her fingers curling lightly against the thin hospital sheet as she watched the woman leave. Silence settled in as the door clicked shut. She exhaled slowly, her chest rising and falling as her heart continued to pound, fast, uneven.

This was it. The surgery. The one thing she had been holding onto, fighting for. And yet, her chest felt hollow. Like something deep inside had been scooped out, leaving behind an aching emptiness.

I hope you’re okay, Roman. Her eyes closed for a brief moment as she steadied her breathing. Then she opened them again, and her gaze drifted, almost unconsciously, to the television mounted on the wall. Her pulse jumped.

The game was already on, and there he was. On the ice.

"Roman..." she breathed, the name barely more than a whisper.

Her chest tightened as she watched him skate, his movements sharp, focused. He looked so close. Close enough to reach, and yet impossibly far.

Then, she heard a distant roar. "Boooooooo!" The sound vibrated faintly through the ceiling, low and muffled, but unmistakable.

Estelle’s eyes snapped upward instinctively. He was there. Right above her. Just floors away, and he had no idea. Her heart began to pound harder, the rhythm loud in her ears as she dragged her gaze back to the screen.

Roman moved fast, too fast. She saw the shift in him instantly. The way his body tensed, the way his eyes burned.

"No..." she whispered, her fingers tightening against the sheets.

On the screen, he charged toward the opponent, fury written into every movement.

"No, Roman, don’t," she murmured under her breath, her voice barely audible in the sterile room. But he couldn’t hear her.

On the screen, he charged and slammed into the opponent. Estelle gasped, her hand flying to her chest as if she could physically steady the frantic pounding beneath her ribs. The impact echoed faintly through the speakers, and her stomach twisted.

Just then, the door opened beside her, and two nurses stepped in, their soft shoes brushing against the polished floor.

Estelle’s head snapped toward them, her hand lifting shakily as she pointed at the television. "He’s losing control! Look at him!" she said, her voice tight with urgency. "This is my fault. I should have told him. I should have—"

"Please, try to remain calm," one of the nurses said gently, stepping closer. "The last thing we need is your blood pressure rising. It could delay the surgery."

Estelle shook her head, frustration flashing across her face. "I need my phone," she said, sharper now. "Get my phone. Now."

The second nurse didn’t hesitate. She turned and hurried out of the room.

Estelle’s chest rose and fell unevenly as she dragged her gaze back to the screen. Roman was still moving, still burning, unraveling right before her eyes.

Seconds later, the door opened again, and a doctor walked in, a practiced smile on his face. "Hello, Estelle. We need to proceed now. If the nurses could—"

"I need to talk to him!" Estelle cut in, her voice slicing through his words. "I’m not going anywhere until I do."

The doctor paused, looking at the screen before turning back to her, his smile fading slightly. "He’s on the ice," he said carefully. "He can’t take a call right now."

"Then get Magnus on the phone!" she said, her voice shaking now. "Before it’s too late!"