His Father Bought Me-Chapter 22: The Timestamp

Estelle shook her head immediately. "Of course not!" she said, steady but firm. "Look, Roman, if we’re going to do this, if we’re going to win, you need to start trusting me." She paused, her shoulders easing just a fraction. "Roman, I need to understand everything," she continued. "And we don’t have the luxury of time. Every second matters now."

"I know, but—" He cut himself off, dragging a hand through his hair before letting it fall back to his side. "I don’t want you judging me without knowing the full story."

For a moment, something in his voice shifted to a more guarded tone. Estelle’s expression softened, and she slowly placed her hand over his. The contact froze him in place.

Roman felt it immediately, the warmth, the steadiness. He should have pulled away, should have said something sharp to break the moment, but he didn’t, he couldn’t.

Her gaze held his, calm and unwavering. "We’re partners now," she said gently. "To the world, you’re my husband, and that means we’re in this together." Her fingers pressed lightly against his, grounding him. "But I need to know what I’m stepping into," she added. "That’s the only way we find a way out of Magnus’s web. We can’t do this without trust."

Roman let out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a little. "I know," he said. "I do." He hesitated, searching for the right words. "But I’d rather tell you myself and not have you piece it together and get the wrong idea," he admitted. His tone had softened now, stripped of its earlier edge.

Estelle watched him closely, her eyes narrowing slightly, not in suspicion, but in assessment. Then, slowly, a faint, knowing look crossed her face. "Should I take that to mean that you care about what I think of you?" she said, tilting her head just a little.

"You’re mine now, aren’t you?" Roman held her gaze, his voice dropping into something quieter. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he stepped closer, bracing one hand against the arm of her wheelchair, and the space between them disappeared.

Estelle’s chest tightened, her heartbeat quickening as it thudded unevenly against her ribs. Instinctively, she tried to roll back, but the chair didn’t budge. His grip held it in place. She tried again, but nothing. Her fingers curled slightly against the armrest as she lifted her chin, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

"I think you’re forgetting that this is just an act," she said, her voice steady at first, then betraying her with the slightest tremor. "I don’t belong to you."

Roman’s gaze dipped, lingering briefly on her lips, the hint of a smile still playing there. Then, just as suddenly, he straightened. The shift left a strange emptiness in the space between them.

"Don’t play that game with me again," he said, his tone sharper now. "We both know what this is, but if you start toying with my feelings," he added, a quiet warning threading through his voice, "you won’t just be worrying about your spine. You might need a surgeon for your heart too."

Estelle let out a short, disbelieving scoff, the tension breaking just enough for her to lean back. "You think too highly of yourself, Roman," she said coolly. "And I can see that your reputation didn’t come from nowhere." Her gaze flicked over him, unimpressed. "Maybe if you stepped down from that pedestal for once, things would go a lot smoother for you."

Roman opened his mouth to respond, but Estelle lifted a hand, cutting him off before he could speak.

"You should go," she said, her tone shifting back to business. "We don’t have time for this." She turned slightly toward the desk, her attention already drifting back to the laptop. "Go see Lena while you still can," she added. "Unless, of course, she’s not that important."

Roman stood there for a moment as the room felt quieter. His thoughts tangled quickly, pulling him in different directions. If he stayed, it would say something, something Estelle would definitely notice.

And maybe she was right. Maybe Lena wasn’t the priority right now. His gaze dropped to her hand near the laptop, and back to her face. Decision made.

Without a word, he grabbed the chair she had pushed aside and pulled it closer, the legs scraping softly against the floor as he sat. Estelle immediately wheeled back a few inches, instinctively putting space between them again. Roman didn’t comment. He simply reached forward and opened the laptop, the screen casting a cool glow across his face.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the screen now.

Estelle frowned slightly, studying him. He was unpredictable. He should have walked out that door without hesitation, but he hadn’t. And the fact that he stayed, that he chose this, chose her in this moment, stirred something uncomfortable in her chest. Something she wasn’t ready to name.

"Are you just going to sit there staring at me?" Roman glanced at her briefly before turning back to the laptop, the screen’s glow reflecting faintly in his eyes. "We don’t have time."

Estelle blinked, as if pulled out of her thoughts. Her chest tightened, something unfamiliar pressing in, but she pushed it aside and turned toward the computer. "I want to know everything," she said.

Roman’s fingers paused over the keyboard. He looked at her again, searching her face, then let out a slow breath. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly. " Are you sure you can handle the whole truth?"

Estelle nodded, even as her chest felt uneasy. "I want to know why your father is blackmailing you," she said. "Why he would send something like that just to keep you in line." Her eyes held his. "I want to know what he has on you?"

Roman swallowed, and without another word, he turned back to the laptop. His fingers moved quickly across the keys, the soft tapping filling the silence. Then he clicked, and a video filled the screen.

Estelle leaned in slightly, her eyes widening.

On the screen, Roman was on the ice, not playing his sport. He was on another player, his movements were fast and aggressive, punch after punch. The other man’s face was already bloodied, but Roman didn’t stop. Rage had taken over completely, his expression was unrecognizable, and he looked almost feral.

Estelle’s stomach twisted as she watched, not because of the image of screen, because of something else. She swallowed, her fingers tightening against the armrest as she tried to steady herself.

Roman glanced at her, then back at the screen. "I know what it looks like," he said, his voice lower now. "I know you probably think I’m a—"

"Roman, stop." Estelle’s voice was a ghost of a whisper. She leaned closer to the glow of the monitor, her eyes scanning the data in the corner. Her blood felt like ice in her veins

"The timestamp..." she murmured, pointing a trembling finger at the digital white numbers. "Why does it say this happened yesterday?"