Roman shoved the phone back into his pocket and pushed forward, quickening his pace.

The iron gates loomed ahead, and as he stepped through them, the cool air outside hit him, carrying the distant hum of traffic.

A cab was already waiting, its engine running, as if it had been expecting him.

Roman didn’t stop to question it. He yanked the door open and slid inside. "14th Street," he said, breath still uneven.

The driver nodded once and pulled off immediately, the car lurching forward before settling into speed. The city blurred past the windows, buildings, lights, passing figures, all smeared into motion.

Roman leaned back slightly, his fingers drumming once against his thigh, his thoughts racing ahead of the car.

Within minutes, they slowed as the Saunders’ house came into view.

Roman glanced at the driver as the car eased to a stop a few blocks away. Questions pressed at the back of his throat, but there was no time.

"Wait here," he muttered, already reaching for the door.

He stepped out and pulled his hood lower, dipping his head as he moved, keeping to the shadows as much as he could. The air felt heavier here, quieter.

As he approached the house, his steps slowed.

Then he stopped, his breath stalled in his chest.

There, right in front of the house, was Leo, sitting outside beside his father. Alive. Awake.

Normal.

Roman’s chest tightened so sharply it almost hurt. For a split second, anger surged, hot, immediate. He wanted to step forward, to call it out, to tear the lie apart right there.

But he stopped himself. Not yet. Not like this. So he swallowed it down, forcing himself still. This wasn’t the moment to get emotional.

Carefully, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His fingers steadied as he lifted it, angling it just enough.

A quiet tap and the camera opened.

Roman pinched the screen, zooming in. For a second, the image warped, blurred by motion and distance, then it sharpened. Much clearer now, and Leo’s face filled the frame, relaxed, almost cheerful.

Roman’s breath hitched, just for a moment, and then instinct took over. He tapped the capture button.

Once. Twice. Again, quick, precise movements as he adjusted the angle, taking several more shots while Leo and his father sat there, talking like nothing had ever happened, like none of it existed.

Roman shifted his footing, taking a careful step closer, the faint scrape of gravel making him pause. He stilled, listening. No reaction. Good.

I need to keep these safe. The thought came sharp and urgent.

His fingers moved fast, uploading the images to his cloud storage, watching the progress bar crawl forward for a second before it completed. Secure.

Only then did he reopen the camera and switch to video. The screen flickered as it adjusted. He steadied his hand, angling the frame, first catching Mr. Saunders’s profile, then sliding slowly to Leo.

Perfect.

He started recording. Time stretched.

Their voices drifted faintly through the air, punctuated by soft laughter, light, easy, completely at odds with everything Roman had been dragged through. He kept filming, jaw tightening as each second passed.

After a few minutes, he stopped the recording and saved it, his chest rising with a slow, controlled breath as he glanced down at the evidence.

Now he had solid, undeniable proof, and that should have been enough. He should have left.

But as he turned, the sound hit him again. Laughter. Clearer this time. Louder. Easy.

It slipped under his skin, sharp and deliberate, like none of this had ever mattered. Like everything he had just endured was nothing more than a joke to them.

Roman stopped. His grip tightened around the phone, his jaw locking as something hot and reckless pushed past the restraint he had been holding onto.

No. This wasn’t enough.

His eyes narrowed, something darker settling behind them. "Happy, right?" he muttered under his breath, the words low, edged. "Let’s see how happy you’ll be about this."

He unlocked his phone again, his thumb moving quietly as he opened his social media. The Go Live button glowed on the screen.

He hovered over it for a second and then tapped, taking a breath in. Then the stream connected.

Reactions started pouring in almost immediately, flooding the screen with movement, emojis, and comments, curiosity spiking all over again.

Roman lifted the phone slowly, steadying his hand as he framed the shot on Leo’s face. He held it there for a beat, watching the screen as the audience caught up.

Then the comments began to flood in.

Is that Leo?

Wait—what?

Is this recent?

Did he wake up already?

That looks like him.

The reactions piled on, confusion bleeding into curiosity, then hesitation.

This has to be old footage.

No way this is real.

This is edited. It has to be. This has to be fake. Oh, shameless Roman. Shame!

Roman’s eyes narrowed as the comments continued to spiral. Not enough. He needed more.

He stepped forward, closing the distance, angling the camera for a clearer shot, closer, sharper, undeniable.

The gravel shifted faintly under his shoe, and a sound escaped, small but loud enough.

Both heads turned instantly, and Mr. Saunders and Leo looked straight at him.

Roman didn’t flinch. He lifted the phone higher, the camera catching their faces clearly now, the surprise, the tension, the shift.

"Who is that?" Mr. Saunders demanded, his brows knitting as he pushed to his feet.

"Roman?" Leo’s voice came quieter, disbelief rippling through it.

Roman let out a short breath, stepping fully into view now, the glow of the screen lighting part of his face.

"Yeah," he said, his tone edged, controlled but burning underneath. "You got it right."

He tilted the phone slightly, making sure the live feed held them both. "It’s me," he continued, taking another step closer, "and the world is watching."

The words hung heavy in the air.

"Now tell them," he pressed, his voice sharpening, "why you lied. You’re here, healthy, and yet you told the world you were in a coma."

He took another step closer.

"Why?" His chest rose and fell, breath tighter now. "What did I ever do to deserve that?"

"Get that camera away from us!" Mr. Saunders snapped, already stepping back, his hand half-raised as if to block the lens.

Roman didn’t stop. If anything, he moved closer, his grip steady, the camera unwavering as it captured every flicker of their expressions.

Leo froze for a fraction of a second, long enough for something unreadable to flicker across his face. Then he turned and ran.

"Hey! Leo!" Roman shouted, the word tearing out of him as he lunged forward after him.

Mr. Saunders shifted into his path, trying to block the camera with his hand, but Roman barely registered it. He twisted past him, pivoting sharply as he locked onto Leo’s retreating figure.

"Why are you trying to destroy my career?" Roman called out, his voice louder now, his breath breaking as he gave chase.

His heart hammered against his ribs, each step jarring through him as he ran, the phone still raised, still streaming.

Behind the screen, the comments exploded, faster, louder, but Roman didn’t look, didn’t slow, didn’t stop.

And ahead of him, Leo didn’t stop either.