The days blurred together after his encounter with Freya.Roman moved through them the way a man wades through deep water. Work didn’t pause for grief, or exhaustion, or the quiet unraveling of everything he had built.The lawsuit was bleeding him dry. And if he wasn't as wealthy as he was, he would have been bankrupt. Investors were calling in daily to withdraw their stocks. His board members held emergency meetings he wasn’t always invited to.The press did not help much either, with their news. Roman responded the only way he knew how, which was to bury himself deeper into the grind.But even that did not feel like armor anymore. It felt like weight. Overworking. And the worst part wasn’t the pressure, or the losses stacking up in inevitable columns.It was the silence, the empty apartment he came home to, the unanswered messages, and the way Annabel’s name sat in his phone like a ghost he didn’t know how to speak to anymore.And as if it was some wrong timed thing, Freya started

Roman straightened the cuffs of his blazer as he stepped into the courtroom. Today was different. It was going to be more intense than the last hearing. The press bench was half full, and a few unfamiliar legal faces lined the gallery. They were likely just observers from other firms who smelled blood in the water. Everyone wanted a seat for the show.Kade walked beside Roman silently, while scanning the room. Martin was already seated at their table. There were stacks of binders and a neat yellow legal pad in front of him. He gave Roman a curt nod as he sat.Across the aisle, Ezra Winfield leaned slightly toward Pope and was speaking in low tones. Pope reclined with an expression that looked close to boredom. Prance sat beside him.The room was very tense. At exactly ten o’clock, the bailiff stood. “All rise.”Judge Hauser entered briskly. She adjusted her glasses, surveyed the room once, then sat.“You may be seated.” She said. Everyone settled. She continued immediately. “This

Roman turned around. “So what does winning look like?”Martin stood up to stand opposite him near the window.“It looks like strategy, and not pride. You can’t afford to throw punches in the dark. We need tighter surveillance, counter-forensics, and a full reshuffle of the narrative.”“I don’t have the media behind me.”“We will figure it out.”They both stood in silence for a moment. Then Roman returned to the desk and sat again. “I don’t want to lose anything,” he said.“You won’t,” Martin replied. “But don’t lose yourself trying to save it, either.”Then Roman asked, “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”Martin thought for a long second. “I think you’re at the edge of something. It's either the cliff or the breakthrough. Your answer only depends on what you do next.”Roman nodded. “I won’t settle.” Maybe he was trying to convince himself. “Then let’s start preparing like we mean it.” Martin said. Several days later, Freya found herself standing in front of her bathroom mirror, wi