His Father Bought Me

Meanwhile, Roman stormed down the hallway, each step striking hard against the polished floors, the sound echoing after him. His thoughts ran wild, tangling over themselves, the sting of Estelle’s rejection burning in his chest.

He didn’t slow down as he pivoted to Magnus’s private waiting room. The office door stood open, a soft spill of warm light stretching into the dimmer waiting area.

Roman stepped inside without knocking. "Why the hell did you lie to Estelle?" he barked, his voice sharp enough to cut through the room.

Magnus, still on the phone, glanced at him once, brief, assessing, before letting out a quiet sigh and turning slightly away. "Yes, I’ll call you back shortly," he said into his phone. "I need to deal with something."

He ended the call and set the phone down, then lifted his gaze to Roman, calm as ever. "What is this about?" he asked.

"Stop playing the fool, Father!" Roman snapped, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "You lied to Estelle, and now she hates me!"

For a split second, Magnus’s jaw tightened, but the reaction vanished just as quickly, replaced by that same controlled composure. "And you’re losing your temper over that?" he asked mildly, tilting his head.

"Interesting." A faint, knowing look crossed his face. "Tell me, Roman, why do you care so much?"

The question hit harder than expected.

Roman hesitated just for a heartbeat. The heat in his chest faltered, before he forced himself upright again, his voice sharpening.

"That doesn’t matter," he said. "I just want you to stop interfering with my life. I’m doing everything you want, so why won’t you just let me live the way I choose?"

Magnus leaned back slightly, folding his hands together, his gaze steady. "You are the heir to this empire and I can’t afford to let you lose focus." He paused for a breath.

"By the way, I didn’t lie to Estelle," he added. "I simply didn’t mention that you threw her under the bus with Lena to make yourself look good. Or perhaps to win her back?" He scoffed lightly. "How foolish."

Roman’s jaw clenched. "Lena is the woman I’ve chosen," he said, the words firm. "But I’ll stay with Estelle since that’s what you want." A second passed. "But a man can have a mistress," he added coldly. "Right?"

Magnus’s gaze sharpened, something darker settling behind his eyes. "Does Lena know that’s the role you’ve assigned her?" he asked quietly.

Roman’s expression hardened. "That’s between Lena and me," he said. "Just stay out of it."

"I thought you were wiser than this," Magnus said, his expression hardening, the air around him turning cold. "Estelle is the key to everything you want, and more than that, she is everything you need to rise to the top. Yet here you are, still clinging to childish dreams."

Roman let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Nonsense," he shot back. "She’s nothing more than a means to an end, and you made her that, not me."

He took a step forward, his chest rising and falling with restrained anger. "I am the king of the ice," he continued, his voice firm, almost defiant. "And I deserve a queen. That’s how you build an empire."

His lips curled slightly. "The last thing I want is to end up as miserable as you were. I will be with the woman I love. Only her."

The words hung in the air.

Magnus’s fists tightened against the polished surface of the table. "Your mother," he said slowly, his voice lower now, "was the love of my life, even if we didn’t always see eye to eye."

Roman scoffed again, the sound sharper this time. "Oh, please, Father," he said, pacing a step to the side. "Remind me again why she’s not here with us."

The room went still for a moment.

Magnus’s jaw locked, a flicker of something dangerous passing through his eyes. "Be careful what you say to me," he warned, his voice controlled, but trembling just beneath the surface.

Roman didn’t stop. "Or what?" he pressed, his tone rising. "You’ll murder me too, like you did to—"

"Enough!" Magnus shot to his feet, his palm slamming hard against the table. The sharp crack echoed through the room, vibrating in the air between them. "You will stay away from Lena," he said, each word cutting.

"You will face your marriage. You will face your wife. And if you insist on this nonsense—" He leaned forward slightly, his gaze burning into Roman. "Then be prepared to face the consequences."

Roman swallowed, his heart jolting at the intensity in his father’s eyes. For a brief second, something like unease passed through him, but it didn’t last. Because his jaw tightened the next second, his spine straightened as he forced the feeling down.

"Keep hiding behind that mask," he said, his voice low, dangerous. "But the day I take my life back, I will come for answers." He took another step closer. "About Mother’s death. About everything you ever did to her." His eyes darkened. "And when that day comes, you’ll wish you never dared to stand against me."

With that, he turned sharply and stormed out, the door slamming behind him with a heavy, final thud.

Magnus remained standing, his chest rising slowly, his hand still pressed against the table. "That day will never come," he swore, his voice cold enough to freeze the air. "Over my dead body."

He stood still for a moment, his jaw tight, the silence around him was suffocating. Then he reached for his phone, his grip firmer than necessary, and pulled up his call log. He dialed. The line clicked, and he lifted the phone to his ear, his gaze already hardening.

"Vance, leave everything you’re doing and send the anonymous tip," he said, his voice low, but ominous. "Roman just grew wings, and I need to cut them before he starts flying and ruins everything I’ve built."

"Understood, Sir," Vance replied, his voice faint but steady through the speaker.

Magnus ended the call without another word and placed the phone down on the table with a soft tap. His eyes drifted slowly, almost unwillingly, to the framed portrait on the wall. To Margaret Whitehall’s picture.

The room seemed to grow colder as he stared at her painted smile, at the familiar curve of her eyes. His jaw tightened, an unreadable expression flickering beneath the surface.

"I hope you can save him," he murmured, his voice rough around the edges. "Because I will break him until he understands that I am in charge, not him."