His Father Bought Me-Chapter 39: Walk Away Or Lose

Roman stood there, his chest heaving. Guilt tugged at his chest as he watched her retreat. "Remember, this was your idea," he said aloud as if he hoped it would ease the guilt in his chest. "So you don’t need to be upset." Yet even as the words left him, they sounded hollow.

Estelle didn’t look back; she kept moving forward, her shoulders stiff, her chest tight, every roll weighed down by the heaviness in her heart. She reached the door and glanced once over her shoulder, catching Roman’s gaze lingering on her. She swallowed hard, her fingers trembling slightly as she turned the knob.

The door closed softly behind her, cutting him off completely, and she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady the rapid drum of her heartbeat. "It was all just for show," she murmured, her voice barely audible, catching in her throat. "So why does it feel like this? Why am I mad at him?"

Her mind drifted, unbidden, to the kiss. The weight of his hand in hers, the warmth of his presence beside her when the cameras were on, the way he made the world shrink until it was just the two of them. Damn it, Estelle, you shouldn’t have trusted a single word.

Then Magnus’s words slithered back into her thoughts: Align yourself with the one who can help you stand again, or stand beside the one who will push you a second time.

Estelle let out a long, shuddering exhale, her eyes narrowing as she fixed them on the framed photo of Roman in his Whitehall jersey. "You want to do what’s right for you," she whispered. "Fine. I’ll do exactly that."

—

Outside the door, Roman remained rooted to the spot. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. "I don’t understand why she is mad. Leah is the one I want, I already made that clear. Right?" he muttered, attempting to convince himself, to build a wall around the gnawing feeling inside.

But a small, insistent voice crept into his mind, soft yet undeniable. If you’re so sure, then why do you feel this way?

He exhaled sharply and pressed a hand to his chest, rubbing slowly, like he could smooth out the tight, restless feeling lodged there. "I made the right decision," he muttered, more to himself than anything else. "I know I did."

But the words didn’t settle him, they just echoed in the empty hallway. "But then why is she reacting like that?" he added under his breath, his brows drawing together. He exhaled, pacing once, then stopping again. "Maybe I should go to her. Just check to make sure she’s fine."

He took two steps toward her door and stopped. He shook his head. "No." The word came out sharper this time. He turned away, running a hand through his hair. "I shouldn’t. My focus is Lena," he said, grounding himself in it. "I need to get her away from my father before he poisons her mind against me."

With that decision made, he moved, his strides quicker now, even if the unease still lingered under his skin.

—

Meanwhile, inside Magnus’s office, the tension was almost palpable.

Magnus moved to his side of the desk, the soft creak of leather following as he settled into his chair. He gestured casually toward the seat across from him, but Lena didn’t move. She stayed where she was, her arms loose at her sides, her eyes narrowed slightly as she watched him.

"I hope you’re not waiting for me to pull the chair out for you," Magnus said, leaning back, one brow lifting faintly.

Lena let out a quiet sigh, shaking her head. "Let’s not pretend," she said, her tone calm. "I only walked in here because I wanted to get back at Roman. That’s all." She tilted her head slightly, studying him.

Magnus’s lips curved into a slow, calculating smile. "Is that so?"

"Yes, Mr. Whitehall," Lena replied, her voice steady. "And you, of all people, should know that there’s nothing you can offer me that would make me betray Roman. Not even your most prized possession."

Magnus leaned forward then, his cuff scraping faintly against the table, and his voice dropped. "Even if it gives you everything you’ve ever wanted?" he asked, fingers interlacing loosely on the desk.

Lena’s confidence faltered just slightly.

"On the team," he added, watching her closely. That was enough to make her hesitate.

Then, slowly, she moved to the chair and sat down, her posture no longer as relaxed, her attention sharpened. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

Magnus didn’t answer immediately. He let the silence stretch, just enough to pull her in further. Then he continued. "How does being the first female captain of the Avatars sound?" he said, his tone smooth. "It comes with everything you’ve always wanted, recognition, authority." He leaned back slightly, watching the shift in her expression.

"And more than that," he continued, "a guaranteed first spot in next season’s draft."

Now she was listening fully.

Magnus’s smile deepened, subtle but satisfied. "But," he added, lifting a finger slightly, "I’ll need two things from you."

Lena leaned back slowly, the leather of the chair creaking beneath her as she crossed one leg over the other. Her eyes narrowed slightly, studying him. "This is a very tempting offer," she admitted. Her fingers tapped lightly against the armrest in a quiet rhythm. "I won’t lie, it’s exactly what I’ve wanted for a long time."

Then her gaze sharpened. "But tell me," she said, leaning forward just a fraction, "what do you want from me?"

Magnus’s expression shifted, his smirk faded, replaced by something colder. "I want you out of Roman’s life." The words detonated in the room.

Lena’s jaw dropped before she could stop herself. "What?" she breathed. "You can’t—"

"He’s married now," Magnus cut in smoothly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And I won’t have the NHL seeing him in the kind of position I saw earlier." His gaze held hers, unblinking. "Walk away from him," he said. "Let him remain married to Estelle."

Silence stretched between them for a moment.

Lena’s chest tightened, her breath catching slightly as the weight of his words settled in. She looked down at the polished surface of the table, her reflection faint and distorted beneath her.

Then she shook her head. "No." The word came out softer this time. Her fingers curled slightly against the edge of the table. "You can’t seriously be asking me to do that. You know exactly how I feel about him."

Magnus didn’t react. "You need to ask yourself what matters more," he said, his voice calm, almost detached. "Roman, or your career." He leaned back, watching her. "Do you want to stay exactly where you are, while he moves on? Thrives? Builds a life with Estelle?"

He paused, letting the words sink in. "And you lose on every front?"