"You’re not in a coma?" The words dragged out of Roman’s throat, thin with disbelief.

Inside, the figure didn’t turn, he didn’t pause, he just kept walking.

"Leo!" Roman called, his voice rising, rough with urgency. "Look at me, Leo!"

Still nothing, the distance between them growing with each step the man took.

"Don’t—"

A shadow moved, and another figure stepped into view, cutting him off completely.

For a brief second, Roman caught a glimpse, sharp eyes, burning, deliberate, and then the curtain snapped shut. The soft swish of the fabric felt deafening.

Roman staggered back a fraction, his breath coming fast, uneven, his vision sharpening. "That’s Leo!" he shouted, his voice cracking under the strain. "He’s right there! Why are you lying to the world?"

Suddenly, the faint rattle of a lock echoed on the front door. Roman’s gaze snapped towards it. With the adrenaline propelling him, he turned and rushed for the porch, taking the steps two at a time, his pulse pounding in his ears.

The door swung open just as he reached it, and he stopped short. He didn’t bother to think before he charged at the door.

"Leo!" he yelled trying to move past Mr. Saunders.

"Where do you think you are going?!" Mr. Saunders said, stopping him.

"I need to go inside! I need to talk to him!" Roman said, pinting a trembling finger past the older man.

But Mr. Saunders stood there, filling the doorway, his expression carved from anger, his eyes hard. "You have some nerve showing up here," he said, his voice low and tight, "after everything you did to my son."

Roman blinked, still trying to catch up with what he had just seen. His gaze flicked back to the window, then returned to the man. Slowly, he lifted a trembling hand, pointing.

"That was Leo’s voice," he said, the urgency in his tone undeniable. "I just heard him. And I saw him. He walked away."

Mr. Saunders’s face darkened instantly. "You’ve clearly lost your mind," he snapped. "Get off my porch before I call the police."

"I saw him," Roman insisted, his voice tightening as frustration crept in. "Why are you acting like it isn’t true? He was right there. He’s not in a coma. So why lie to everyone?"

The older man took a small step forward, his presence pressing, unyielding. "You’re imagining things," he said flatly. "Leo is not here. He’s at a private facility, recovering."

A flicker of emotion broke through, brief, raw. "Thanks to you," he added, his voice roughening, "I haven’t seen my son happy in a long time."

Roman’s eyes drifted back to the window again, his jaw tightening as doubt and certainty warred inside him. Then he looked back, exhaling slowly, some of the fight draining from his shoulders.

"If you don’t want me to tell anyone what I saw, that’s fine," he said quietly. "Maybe this is my punishment for hitting him." He paused. "But I just need a few minutes with him," he added, his voice steadier now, almost pleading. "That’s all. I’ll leave after. I promise."

For a moment, Mr. Saunders didn’t respond, but something in his expression shifted, hesitation, maybe. Then it hardened again.

"If anything happens to my son," he said, his voice dropping into something colder, sharper, "you won’t live long enough to tell that story." The threat lingered in the air between them, heavy and absolute.

"I’m sorry, sir," Roman said, forcing his voice to steady even as his chest tightened. "I just came to apologize to Leo. My career is on the line, and I want to make things right with him." His words hung there, fragile.

Mr. Saunders’s expression didn’t soften. "Get off my porch," he snapped, the anger in his voice sharp enough to cut. "If you’re really sorry, go and give that apology in front of the world like you said you would."

His hand shot out, shoving Roman back a step. "And if this is your strategy to make me drop the lawsuit," he continued, his voice rising, "you’ve failed. Miserably." He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

"That’s not my intention, I—"

"Hello," Mr. Saunders cut in abruptly, already lifting the phone to his ear. His voice shifted, trembling now, laced with urgency. "This is Luke Saunders. Roman Whitehall is here at my house, and he’s threatening to hurt my family and me."

Roman froze. For a second, he just stared, shock hollowing him out from the inside. Then instinct kicked in, and he turned sharply and strode away, his heartbeat pounding loud in his ears. The last thing he needed now was another accusation, another scene.

Gravel crunched under his shoes as he hurried to the cab. He yanked the door open and slid inside.

"Let’s get out of here," he said quickly, his breath uneven, urgency bleeding into every word.

Outside, Mr. Saunders lowered the phone, watching him leave, his jaw set hard.

The car door shut with a dull thud. "What happened in there?" the driver asked, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

Roman opened his mouth, then stopped himself. He could not share what he had just seen with just anyone. "Nothing," he muttered instead. "He wouldn’t let me in."

His gaze drifted back to the house as he spoke, to the window. And then he noticed movement.

His eyes sharpened instantly, locking onto the upper floor. A figure, just a silhouette, stood behind the curtain. Then, just as quickly, it vanished, and the fabric fell back into place.

Roman’s pulse kicked harder. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. That had to be Leo. But if he was fine, if he was standing, moving, why lie? Why build all of this against him? The questions collided, loud and relentless, leaving no room for anything else.

"You shouldn’t give up until you see him," the driver said quietly. "That’s the only way the world will forgive you."

Roman didn’t respond. His eyes stayed fixed on the window, narrowed now, his jaw tightening as the last trace of movement disappeared behind the curtain.

They’re hiding something. And whatever it is, it won’t be hidden for long. The thought settled, heavy and certain.

Slowly, he turned his gaze forward, the decision hardening inside him. So they’d better hide it well, because I’ll be back.

In the front seat, the driver watched him for a brief moment through the mirror, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he faced the road again, the engine humming as the car pulled away.