His Father Bought Me-Chapter 49: Smile, Roman

The faint hum of activity filtered through the door. Voices, movement, everything was already in motion. She had barely pushed forward when Roman’s hand came down on the handles, firm enough to stop her. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

That single gesture caused a shift in the room, and the stylists and makeup artists exchanged quick, knowing glances. One by one, they gathered their things and slipped out, their footsteps quiet, the door clicking shut behind the last of them.

Silence followed.

Estelle looked up at him, her brows drawing together slightly. "What are you doing?"

Roman stepped around her, positioning himself in front of her chair, close enough to block her path. "I’m making sure we’re still on the same page," he said, his voice lower now, tinged with something sharper. "That you’re not about to go out there and throw me under the bus, or say something that ruins everything we’ve planned."

Estelle held his gaze, and for a brief second, her jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. Roman told me. Magnus’s voice echoed loudly in her mind. But her lips curved faintly anyway. "I wonder why you’re so worried," she said, tilting her head slightly, her tone calm but probing, "when you already know we have a plan."

Roman’s eyes narrowed in return, studying her more carefully now. "I’m worried for you," he said after a beat as his gaze flicked over her slowly. "For what you’re trying to achieve, looking like that."

A small smile tugged at Estelle’s lips. Good. Out loud, she only said, "We don’t have time for this." Her fingers brushed lightly against the wheel again. "We need to move."

Roman watched her for a moment longer, something unreadable flickering across his face. Then he exhaled sharply, the tension easing, at least on the surface. "You’re right," he said, a faint smile returning, and then he stepped behind her. "But I can’t have people see you wheeling yourself out there."

Estelle’s fingers froze on the rim. "What does that—?"

"It will look better," Roman said, already pushing the chair forward, his tone casual. "For everyone to see that I’m accepting of your current state."

The words landed heavier than he intended, and even though he felt it, he didn’t take them back. Estelle’s jaw tightened, the muscle ticking faintly. She swallowed once as if pushing down her response and shifted her gaze forward, her posture straight and composed.

Behind her calm, Magnus’s voice echoed again. You’re on probation.

The door opened, allowing light to spill in. And there he was, Magnus. He stood waiting, exactly where she expected him to be, his hands behind his back, his posture relaxed, but his eyes were sharp.

The moment his gaze landed on Estelle, his jaw hardened, just slightly, but it was enough. Estelle saw it, and her smile deepened. Perfect.

"Is that?" Vance’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets. Then he saw her properly, and he placed a hand on his chest. "What the hell is she thinking?" he muttered, his voice low, but not low enough.

The words echoed too closely to Magnus’s own thoughts, but he didn’t respond. His jaw remained set, his expression carefully blank as his gaze stayed fixed ahead. You’re trying to provoke me. A slow, controlled breath settled in his chest. I’ll remind you exactly who controls the board.

Beside him, Vance leaned in slightly, unaware he was pushing further. "Is it just me, Sir, or does she look like Mrs. Margaret?"

For the briefest second, something flickered behind Magnus’s eyes, but it was gone just as quickly, and silence answered Vance. He straightened immediately, taking the hint.

By the time Roman and Estelle reached them, the air had shifted. Roman gave a small, careless shrug, but Estelle smiled.

"I hope I look perfect for the occasion?" she asked, her voice smooth, laced with just enough edge to bite.

Magnus looked at her, and for a split second, the image overlapped, the past and present colliding. His late wife’s face, her posture, that same quiet poise, and then it was gone. But his expression never changed. "I’m glad you understand what’s expected of you," he said evenly.

Then his gaze shifted to Roman, sharpening. "Remember what’s at stake," he continued, his tone firm. "And make sure your wife falls in line, this isn’t the time for tantrums. The NHL is watching." The weight of his words settled in the space between them. "When you walk out there," he added, quieter now but no less commanding, "there should be no doubt left in anyone’s mind."

Roman met his gaze, but said nothing, only his jaw tightened. Estelle watched the exchange closely, and she saw it. That slight shift. That tension. Her little tantrum had landed, and it made satisfaction curl low in her stomach.

"You don’t need to worry," she said, drawing Magnus’s attention back to her with ease. "We’re ready for the cameras."

Magnus’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying her more carefully now. What is that look in her eyes? He didn’t ask, didn’t need to. Instead, he turned toward the door, and that was the signal.

Roman’s grip tightened slightly on the wheelchair as he began to push forward, his brows furrowed as he glanced down at her. His mind was already racing. "Why are you suddenly so friendly with my father?" he asked under his breath, tension threading through his voice.

Estelle didn’t look at him, her gaze stayed forward, fixed, her smile still in place. Whatever she had planned? It was working. "Smile, Roman," she said lightly, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "The cameras are already rolling."

Roman’s face hardened at her reply, the shift in his gaze was immediately visible. "What does that mean?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

Estelle didn’t look at him right away, her gaze stayed forward, calm, almost distant. "Let’s just say," she began, her voice smooth, "I’m choosing my allies wisely."

The words landed exactly where she wanted them to, and Roman stopped pushing the chair.