Roman’s vision blurred for a moment, the comments on the screen smearing into streaks of light as his thoughts crashed into one another. Too many pieces. Too many questions.

Then, something clicked.

His gaze sharpened, breath steadying as an idea cut clean through the noise.

"You all saw it," he said, his voice steady but carrying weight. "Leo is not in a coma."

His gaze hardened slightly. "So if you want answers, come and witness it for yourselves." He took a small breath. "Because the truth shouldn’t be hidden behind closed doors."

For a split second, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, the comment section exploded.

I’m heading there now!

No one is leaving that house!

They played us, and we won’t let them get away with it!

The flood came fast, relentless, charged with anger.

Roman felt it, felt the shift, and a slow warmth spread through his chest, loosening something tight inside him. He exhaled, long and measured, his grip easing slightly on the phone.

Then, his eyes drifted back to the closed door. There’s no escape for you, he thought, jaw tightening faintly. Not until I get the truth.

And after that, it didn’t take long.

Within minutes, movement stirred at the edges of the street, figures arriving, one after another, phone torches flickering on in the dim light.

"Come out, Saunders!"

"Come out, Leo!"

Voices layered over each other, rising, echoing off the walls of the house. The quiet street turned restless, alive with tension. Reporters also began arriving at the scene.

Roman stood still for a moment, taking it in. The noise, the presence, the growing crowd. Then he nodded to himself. This would hold. For now, it was enough.

He lowered the phone and turned away. The chants followed him as he walked away, louder, sharper, growing. For the first time that night, Roman didn’t feel alone.

But he didn’t slow down, because this wasn’t over. His thoughts were already moving ahead, faster than his steps.

A car slowed, and he slipped inside without hesitation.

The ride passed in a blur of streetlights and shadow, his reflection flickering faintly in the window as he stared ahead, silent, focused.

Minutes later, the car rolled to a stop at the estate gates, and Roman was out before the engine fully settled.

The phone in his hand felt heavier now. It was no longer just a device, but proof, leverage, truth waiting to be used, and it drove him forward.

He pushed through the grand doors, the foyer swallowing him in polished marble and muted light. There was no pause, no hesitation.

He took the stairs two at a time, his footsteps echoing as he moved toward Magnus’s wing, and then slowed. A light was on, not in the bedroom, in the private waiting room that led to Magnus’s study.

Roman stopped, his gaze narrowing slightly as he turned toward it. He entered and saw that the study door was open.

He drew in a breath, glancing once at his phone before stepping closer. His knuckles tapped lightly against the wood, and the door creaked wider on its own.

Inside, Magnus was pacing, but he stopped the moment he saw Roman.

For a brief second, something flickered across his face, worry, sharp and unguarded, and Roman caught it. But he didn’t dwell on it.

"Father, I need to talk to you," he said, stepping inside, his voice steady but urgent.

Magnus’s expression hardened almost instantly, the moment gone as quickly as it had appeared. He said nothing at first, just turned away, moving toward his desk, already knowing exactly why Roman was there.

He lowered himself into the chair with deliberate calm, as though the room itself bent to his control. And then he looked up.

"What is it, Roman?" Magnus asked, his voice even, though a faint edge crept in. "It’s late." 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

Roman didn’t ease into it. "I have proof," he said, the words coming out fast, almost colliding. "The Saunders lied. Leo is not in a coma. I saw him with my own two eyes." He lifted the phone slightly. "And as chairman of the panel, I thought you should see it."

For the briefest moment, Magnus’s heart stuttered, but he made sure it didn’t show. His expression stayed composed, a faint, controlled smile settling on his lips as his gaze dipped to the phone in Roman’s hand, then returned to his face.

Magnus leaned back slightly, his gaze lingering on Roman, not the phone. Measuring. Calculating.

"You’re making a serious accusation," he said slowly. "One that could destroy reputations." He paused. Then— "Let me see it."

Roman nodded without hesitation. He unlocked the phone, the screen lighting up between them, and extended it forward.

Magnus reached, and Roman pulled it back abruptly. The movement was small, but sharp enough to hang in the air, and Magnus’s fingers closed on nothing.

His brows drew together, a crease forming between them. "What’s wrong?" he asked, his tone tightening just slightly. "I need to see it if I’m going to speak to the rest of the panel."

Roman exhaled, but it wasn’t relief this time. His gaze hardened, narrowing as something settled into place in his mind. "How do I know," he said slowly, "that you’re not the one behind this?"

The words landed heavy.

Magnus stilled for a fraction of a second, then leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands together as if buying himself a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was measured, almost reflective.

"As much as I hate to admit it, because of how it makes me look, I didn’t expect something like this from the Saunders," he said, the lie slipping out clean, unbroken. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his gaze softening just enough. "But I’m glad this came to light."

A faint smile touched his lips. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to know my son’s name can be cleared."

Roman watched him for a beat, then the corner of his mouth lifted, not quite a smile. "I’m even happier," he said quietly, "because that’s one less thing for you to hold over me."

This time, he extended the phone fully, and Magnus took it.

The glow from the screen lit his face as he scrolled, his throat tightening as he swallowed. The images. The video. Clear. Undeniable.

For once, there was nothing to twist. Nothing to hide behind. Just truth staring back at him.

"Now," Roman said, stepping closer, his voice steadier, firmer, "call the panel members and tell them I’m innocent."

Magnus’s head lifted sharply, surprise flashing through his eyes before it was quickly masked.

"What are you waiting for, Father?" Roman pressed, pointing toward the phone on the desk. "It’s right there."

He leaned forward, placing both palms flat against the polished surface, the faint creak of wood the only sound between them.

"Call them," Roman said, his voice low now, unyielding. He held his gaze. "Or I will, and I won’t be as careful about what I expose."