At Logan's funeral, the air was heavy, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tensions. The usual polish of the Roy family's high-society world was stripped bare in the face of his death. It was a somber gathering, one that felt more like a public reckoning than a celebration of a life.

The Roys didn't do grief well—at least, not openly. And though you hadn't been a part of their lives for years, you had still been a part of the family, yet forgotten in the background of their world of power.

The invitation was a surprise. Logan's death was too big to ignore, too important to pretend he hadn't had a hand in shaping the Roys, even if he'd been absent for most of your life.

As you stood at the back of the church, glancing at the familiar faces of your siblings who were mingling throughout the church—undoubtedly networking for the final grab for CEO—there was one figure that stood out.

Roman.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should approach. You hadn't spoken to your brother in years, not since everything fell apart. Not since the last time you had seen each other and exchanged nothing but cold, cutting words.

Without fully thinking it through, you began to walk towards him, the sound of your shoes on the stone floor louder than it should have been. When you were close enough, you stopped, uncertain.

Roman didn't turn around. Not at first. It wasn't until you cleared your throat that he slowly glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening when he saw you.

For a moment, he said nothing. His gaze flickered over you, almost as if he couldn't quite believe it. It was like a ghost had walked into the room—a reminder of the things that had been left unsaid, the things left unresolved.

"You," Roman finally said, his voice a little hoarse, though he tried to mask it with a dry edge of humour. "I thought you'd finally put me out of my misery and stay the hell away."