The door clicked shut, the sound soft but final, sealing Estelle inside the room once more. Silence followed.

She turned her head toward the small window high on the wall, her pulse quickening as she stared at the thin strip of light filtering through. For a moment, just a moment, hope stirred.

Maybe she would see him. Maybe somehow, impossibly, Roman would be there. But the window remained empty.

Slowly, she pulled her gaze away and drew in a deep breath, steadying herself. The air felt cool against her lungs as she let it out, trying to quiet the restless thrum in her chest.

That was when she saw it. The briefcase. It sat on the table a few inches from her bed, dark and solid, almost ordinary, except for what lay beside it. A phone. Noah’s phone.

Her pulse spiked, loud in her ears. This was it. An opportunity. Maybe the only one she would get.

Her fingers twitched against the sheets as her mind raced. The distance wasn’t far, but for her, it might as well have been. Still, she couldn’t let it slip away. Not now. Not when she was this close.

She closed her eyes briefly, bracing herself, then shifted. Pain flared instantly. It shot through her back, sharp and unforgiving, curling up her spine and settling at the base of her neck. A strained sound escaped her lips as she dragged herself inch by inch toward the edge of the bed.

"Just a little more," she whispered, her breath turning uneven.

The mattress dipped under her weight as she leaned sideways, reaching. Her arm trembled, muscles protesting, but she stretched further, fingers brushing the edge of the briefcase.

Almost. She squeezed her eyes shut, exhaled through her nose, then forced her hand forward again. This time, her fingers closed around the phone.

Relief came in a rush.

She pulled it toward her and pressed it to her chest, her breathing fast and shallow now. Her gaze snapped to the door, then back to the window, as if expecting someone to burst in at any second.

There was no time.

Her fingers slipped. Once. Twice. Wrong keys. Before finally unlocking the screen and typing from memory. Every second felt stolen, fragile.

—

Outside, Roman stood still, his brows drawn into a deep frown as he stared at the name lighting up his screen. Lena.

His thumb hovered over the answer button. For a moment, he glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the quiet stretch behind him, half-expecting Noah to reappear as suddenly as he’d vanished.

But nothing. Just the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the estate.

Roman exhaled sharply and brought the phone to his ear. "Hello, Lena?" His voice came out reluctant.

"Hey, Roman." Her voice was soft, composed. "I’m at the estate. I was hoping to see you."

He turned slightly, gaze drifting once more before settling ahead. "I’m coming," he said shortly, already ending the call.

He had barely taken a few steps when his phone rang again. Roman frowned and glanced down. Unknown number. He slowed. Who could be calling me? Then realization flickered. The press. It had to be.

His jaw tightened. Without hesitation, he pressed the power button, silencing the call. The screen went dark in his hand, and he kept walking.

A second later, it rang again, more insistent this time. Roman frowned. Unknown number again. He silenced it once more, irritation creeping in as he slipped the phone back down.

If he had only known.

—

Inside the recovery room beneath the estate, the air felt close, almost too still.

Estelle’s hands trembled as she pressed the redial button again, the faint glow of the screen reflecting in her eyes.

"Come on, Roman," she whispered under her breath, her voice thin with urgency. "Answer. Please."

The call rang. Once. Twice. Then she heard it. Footsteps. Faint at first, then clearer, echoing down the corridor beyond the door.

Her breath hitched. Her head snapped toward the sound, her eyes widening as her pulse surged, loud and frantic in her chest. For a split second, she froze, caught between hope and fear, then instinct took over.

She looked down at the phone. There was no time.

Her fingers moved quickly, clumsy with panic as she typed out a message from memory. She hit send just as the footsteps drew closer, the sound of them settling right outside the door.

Her heart slammed harder. Think.

She needed to put it back exactly where it had been. Her gaze darted to the table. Too far. Too exposed. If he walked in and saw her reaching.

Just then, the lock rattled, a sharp, metallic sound that sent a jolt through her. In one swift, desperate motion, she tossed the phone toward the table. It landed with a soft, dull tap.

Estelle dropped back against the bed, forcing her body into place, her chest rising and falling too fast as she tried to steady her breathing.

Her eyes flicked sideways, and her stomach sank. The phone sat on the wrong side of the table.

Damn it. She swallowed hard, dragging in a slow breath, willing her expression to smooth out, to look like nothing had happened.

The door opened, and Noah stepped in.

Estelle’s fingers curled slightly into the sheets as she fought to steady herself, forcing her face into something neutral. But his expression gave nothing away. It was calm, unreadable.

"There was no one there," Noah said, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. "Probably just someone passing by."

He moved closer, his gaze briefly dropping to the thin sheet covering her legs. With a small, absent motion, he adjusted it, smoothing the fabric before taking a seat beside the bed.

Estelle nodded, though her heart still pounded against her ribs. "So, can we go now?" she asked, keeping her voice as even as she could.

Noah exhaled softly and turned toward the table. "Let me call and check if Roman is back," he said.

Her pulse spiked again as he reached for the phone, then paused. A faint crease formed between his brows.

"That’s strange," he murmured, picking it up slowly.

Of course, it wasn’t where he had left it. Estelle looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. Her heart threatened to escape her chest.