His Father Bought Me-Chapter 50: I Can Explain

Just like that. They were only a few feet from the door, the low murmur of voices and movement from the pressroom bleeding through, but everything around them seemed to pause.

"What do you mean by that?" he pressed, stepping closer. "We agreed to work together," he continued, anger creeping in now, raw and unfiltered. "When did you decide to go behind my back and work with my father?"

Estelle finally turned her head slightly. "Why are you stopping?" she asked instead, ignoring every word.

Roman’s jaw clenched harder, and in one quick step, he moved in front of her, blocking her view entirely. He gripped the armrest of the wheelchair, tight enough that his knuckles whitened. "What the hell do you mean by that?" he snapped, his voice rising despite himself.

A few steps behind them, Magnus’s posture shifted, his arms slowly uncrossing as his eyes locked onto the scene. "What’s wrong with him?" he muttered under his breath, irritation slipping through. "Don’t be stupid, Roman.

"

Vance leaned forward slightly. "Do you want me to step in?"

Magnus didn’t take his eyes off them. "No." The single word was enough to keep Vance in place.

Back at the door, Roman’s breathing had grown heavier, uneven. "Answer me, Estelle," he said, lower now but more dangerous. "Or I walk away from all of this. Right now."

Estelle’s chest rose and fell slowly. She leaned forward just slightly, closing the distance between them. "Don’t threaten me, Roman," she said quietly, her tone was too calm, but the fire beneath it was unmistakable.

"It’s not a threat," Roman shot back, his voice tight. "It’s exactly what will happen if you don’t—"

"I know you told your father that I asked for the Whitehall ring in exchange for helping you fool him," she said, the words slipping out before she could soften them.

The accusation hung between them.

Roman’s anger faltered, and something else replaced it: shock, maybe guilt. He swallowed hard, the tension shifting in his throat. Damn it, Lena. "Estelle, it’s not—"

The door burst open before he could finish, and light spilled out, bright and blinding, voices surged. And then the rapid, unmistakable sound of cameras snapping filled the air.

Estelle looked at him, the weight of the truth settling in her chest. He really did it. The realization sank heavy, like a stone dropping into still water. For a brief second, something fragile cracked beneath it, but she didn’t let it show. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

Instead, a polished smile curved onto her lips. "Everyone’s watching, Roman," she said lightly, her voice smooth despite the tension in her chest. "Time to put on the act." Her eyes flicked up to him. "Why don’t you make sure your wife’s hair is in place?"

Roman stared at her, thrown. For a moment, he didn’t recognize her. The ease of the shift, the way she slipped into the role as if it was her second nature. Still, he raised his hand even though it trembled slightly. His fingers brushed lightly against her hair, fixing nothing in particular, lingering just a second too long before he pulled back.

Then he smiled, straightening as he stepped behind her and took his place.

Across the hall, Magnus watched them, satisfaction curling slowly in his chest. Good. Keep going, Estelle, show me what you’re capable of.

The doors opened wider, and Roman pushed her forward into the pressroom. The atmosphere changed instantly, with bright lights, the sharp scent of equipment, and perfume mingling in the air.

Rows of faces turned toward them, watchful, expectant. They looked hungry, like predators waiting for movement.

Roman guided Estelle toward the front, where two chairs had been set. Two chairs.

Estelle’s eyes flicked to them, a brief flare of something hot and sharp passing through her, but her expression didn’t break. Roman noticed, and without hesitation, he reached out and shoved the extra chair aside, the legs scraping faintly against the floor as if it had offended him. Then he positioned her properly and took his seat beside her.

The room went still for a moment. Pens hovered. Cameras adjusted. Every eye was on them.

Roman leaned closer, his shoulder brushing hers, his breath warm against her ear as guilt burned hot in his chest, tight and relentless. "Listen, Estelle, I promise you, it’s not—"

"Stop it, Roman," she cut in under her breath, her smile never faltering as she faced forward. "This is not the time." Her fingers rested lightly on her lap, steady despite the tension coiled inside her. She turned her attention fully to the press.

But Roman wasn’t done. He leaned in again, closer this time, urgency creeping into his voice. "You have to hear me out," he insisted. "I can explain. I never said that to my father, you have to believe me."

Estelle kept smiling. From the outside, it looked effortless, composed, perfect. She gave the smallest nod, just enough to keep up appearances, but she didn’t look at him, didn’t respond. And that silence? It wasn’t enough, if anything, it triggered Roman.

"You have to talk to me," Roman pressed, his voice tightening, the strain finally showing through his expression. "Or everything is going to fall apart."

Estelle’s eyes narrowed, but her smile never wavered. She could hear the faint rustle of clothes, the low murmur of voices spreading through the press like a ripple. No. We can’t afford doubt. The thought settled sharply in her mind, and she turned to Roman, their faces now only inches apart.

The cameras caught it instantly, flashes bursting like small explosions of light.

Roman froze, his breath catching. His eyes dipped, just for a second, to her lips, but Estelle didn’t let that linger. Her fingers tipped his chin up until his gaze was fixed on hers. His throat moved as he swallowed, something unsteady flickering behind his eyes.

"If you ruin this moment for me," she said under her breath, her smile still perfectly in place, "you’ll be dealing with more than the consequences of your betrayal." Her grip tightened slightly, just enough for him to feel it.

"Remember," she continued softly, "I know something the world doesn’t. And I can tell Magnus anytime I want, and rewrite this entire game."