Roman froze. Even the air in the room held its breath. Slowly, his eyes moved to the top corner of the screen, to the date, the time, and his stomach dropped.
Estelle's breathing grew uneven, her gaze locked on the numbers as if they might change if she stared long enough. "If this happened the same night as my fall, why is no one talking about it?" she asked, her voice barely steady.
Roman swallowed, trying to gather his words.
Estelle's eyes shimmered, tears beginning to gather, and then she turned to him."Unless of course, you knew I was going to fall, and it was the perfect cover-up?" she whispered.
Roman looked at her, something tight and conflicted flickering across his face. He shook his head slowly. "No, I had no idea that you even had a performance at the Whitehall arena," he said. "But… he did."
