His Father Bought Me

Roman didn’t hesitate. He stormed to the door, his fists clenched at his sides, his jaw locked tight. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. Estelle couldn’t have just vanished. She couldn’t have just walked out, and she certainly couldn’t disappear without a trace.

The door swung open, and he stepped into the hallway, his pulse already beginning to climb. He noticed a maid passing by, her steps quick and light against the polished floor.

"You," Roman called sharply. "Where is my wife?"

The maid froze mid-step, her shoulders stiffening before she slowly turned back to him. Her brows knit together, but her expression felt off.

"I—I have no idea, Sir," she said, almost too quickly, before turning to continue on her way.

Roman’s eyes narrowed. He had seen it. The faint tremor in her fingers, the way she avoided his gaze. She knew something for sure.

He opened his mouth to press further, but movement at the far end of the hall caught his attention. The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and Vance stepped out, adjusting his cufflinks as though the morning were perfectly ordinary.

As though nothing was wrong.

"Good morning, Roman," Vance said smoothly, his tone calm, almost pleasant as he walked forward.

Roman turned fully toward him, the tension in his body coiling tighter. "Where is she?" he demanded, his voice sharp enough to cut. "Where did you take her? Answer me."

Vance paused, one hand brushing over his suit jacket as he straightened it. His composure didn’t crack, but there was a flicker, brief and subtle, in his eyes. "Who exactly are we talking about?" he asked, his voice measured.

Roman let out a short, humorless breath. "Don’t play dumb with me, Vance." His fists tightened further, the strain visible in his knuckles. "Tell me where you have her. You handle everything, you must have arranged it."

Vance tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely puzzled. "You’re not making any sense, Roman."

Roman stared at him, something cold settling in his gut. He’s stalling

. The realization hit hard, sharp enough to jolt him into motion. His feet moved before he could think it through, urgency taking over. He couldn’t waste time. Without another word, he turned and stormed past him, his steps quick and heavy against the floor.

And Vance? He didn’t call out, didn’t stop him. If anything, the faintest smile touched his lips as he watched him go.

Roman barely made it a few steps before he stopped abruptly.

Magnus was walking toward him from the opposite end of the hall, already dressed, composed, every detail in place as if the day had been carefully planned. Roman’s brows furrowed, unease prickling under his skin.

"What are you still doing here?" Magnus demanded as he closed the distance. "Why aren’t you at the arena already?"

Roman blinked, the words taking a second to register. Then it hit him. The friendly. The realization hit him a second too late.

Magnus caught it immediately. "Why are you looking like that?" he snapped. "Get moving. The friendly isn’t going to win itself."

Roman’s jaw tightened. How was he supposed to play when Estelle was missing? After everything that had happened between them? After last night? "I can’t—" he started.

"What?" Magnus cut in sharply, his voice rising just enough to carry weight. "Are you serious right now?" His eyes hardened. "Do you want to do even more damage to your already ruined image?"

"Enough of that, Father!" Roman snapped, dragging a hand through his hair as frustration spilled over. "I don’t care about any of that right now."

His chest rose and fell sharply as he stepped closer, his voice dropping but losing none of its intensity. "Estelle is missing. She was with me last night, and when I woke up—" He paused, his jaw tightening. "All I found was her wheelchair."

The words hung heavy between them.

"Unless you’re telling me you took her," he continued, his gaze locking onto Magnus’s, "then I’m sitting this game out. I’m going to find my wife."

For a fraction of a second, something flickered in Magnus’s eyes, annoyance, sharp and fleeting, but his expression smoothed out just as quickly. He let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head.

"Ridiculous," he said, his tone cool, almost dismissive. "The match is in two hours, and this is not the time for tantrums. You need to—"

"Tell me where you have her." Roman cut him off, his voice low now, edged with accusation. "We both know she couldn’t have walked out of here on her own." He took another step forward. "At least tell me you have her, and where, and I’ll go out there and win you your game."

Magnus studied him in silence for a beat. Tempting, but not enough. "Roman," he said at last, his tone sharpening slightly, "the NHL is watching you, and this is what you choose to focus on?"

Roman let out a short breath, something almost like a laugh, though there was no humor in it. "They wanted a family man, didn’t they?" he said, his voice eerily calm now. "Well, that’s who I am now. My wife comes first."

Magnus’s jaw tightened. For the briefest moment, doubt crept in, unwelcome and quickly buried. Was his plan beginning to slip?

"I know you had something to do with this," Roman pressed, his eyes blazing. "And if you don’t tell me where she is, I swear I will tell the world that you kidnapped her."

Magnus’s gaze hardened instantly. "Then you’d better be ready," he shot back, his voice cutting through the space like a blade, "for the world to watch how you threw that game." Silence crashed between them. "Let’s see which scandal carries more weight."

Roman’s mouth parted, but no words came. His throat felt tight, his thoughts tangling as anger and helplessness collided in his chest.

Magnus didn’t wait. "The match is in two hours," he continued, his tone turning cold. "Your team needs their captain. Be there."

Then he paused, letting the weight of his next words settle. "Or I won’t need to lift a finger. The world is already eager to see you banned for nearly killing that boy."

Roman’s fists clenched at his sides. He tried to speak, to argue, but Magnus was already turning away.

"The choice is yours," Magnus said over his shoulder, his voice calm, final. "I trust you’re wise enough to know what matters." And then he was gone.

Roman stood there, rooted in place, his pulse pounding violently in his ears. You did take her then. The certainty settled in his chest like stone. What if he didn’t? No. It has to be him.

"Choose wisely, Roman." Vance’s voice came from behind him, smooth and quiet as he walked past him.

Roman spun around, his jaw tightening as he watched him go. Time was slipping. Every second that passed felt like a distance growing between him and her. His chest tightened, his breath coming faster now.

Where the hell did they take you, Estelle?