A/N: Sorry for the wait everyone! Been having a busy month. In other news, it's my birthday tomorrow! Turning 32. We are at 112 views so far, so let's keep this story going strong!

By dawn, the story had taken over every news outlet across the country. The flashing lights of news vans lined the perimeter of John Milton's sprawling Hollywood mansion, their antennas extending like skeletal fingers into the hazy Los Angeles morning. Reporters jostled for position behind yellow police tape, cameras rolling, microphones poised as they delivered the grisly details to a world hungry for scandal.

The headlines were splashed across every screen, every front page:

"Hollywood Horror: Producer John Milton Unmasked as Ghostface Killer!"
"Fifth Ghostface Strikes Again: A Night of Bloodshed in Tinseltown."
"Beloved Anchorwoman Gale Weathers and Officer Dewey Riley Among the Dead."

News anchors, with carefully rehearsed solemnity, recounted the chilling events of the night.

"In a shocking twist straight out of the horror franchise Stab, Hollywood producer John Milton has been revealed as the fifth iteration of the notorious Ghostface killer," one anchor intoned. "Milton, known for his role in launching the careers of numerous stars, is alleged to have gone on a murderous rampage, killing nearly his entire cast and crew."

The screen cut to footage of body bags being wheeled out of the mansion, the camera lingering on a distraught Sidney Prescott and a visibly shaken Roman Bridger, both being ushered into ambulances by EMTs.

"Among the victims were famed anchorwoman Gale Weathers, known for her work with Total Entertainment, and Dewey Riley, the Woodsboro sheriff-turned-consultant on the Stab franchise."

Another news outlet added: "Also killed in the tragic spree was Detective Mark Kincaid of the LAPD, a decorated officer who was reportedly investigating the scene prior to the murders."

The tabloids, less restrained in their reporting, plastered lurid headlines across their covers:

"Slaughter at Milton Mansion: Ghostface Returns!"
"Murder on the Stab Set: Gale Weathers Dead!"
"Sidney Prescott: Final Girl, Again!"

Below the headlines were dramatic shots of the mansion lit by police floodlights, paired with grainy images of Sidney Prescott, her face pale and tear-streaked, being helped into an ambulance. Roman Bridger's somber expression as he spoke briefly with officers was also prominently featured, his role as the Stab 3 director adding another layer of intrigue to the story.

Talk shows buzzed with speculation, their panels of pundits dissecting every detail of the massacre.

"John Milton was a Hollywood heavyweight," one commentator said, gesturing emphatically. "But he had skeletons in his closet—a reputation for shady dealings and rumors about his treatment of young actresses. Could this have pushed him over the edge?"

Another panelist chimed in. "Or maybe it's something even darker. Let's not forget, the Stab movies themselves have a history of attracting violence. This is the fifth Ghostface to date!"

The camera cut to archival footage of Sidney Prescott, a younger version of herself standing amidst the chaos of the original Woodsboro murders.

"Sidney Prescott has survived every single Ghostface attack," the panelist continued. "How much more can one person endure?"

A third voice added: "What's truly heartbreaking is the loss of Dewey Riley and Gale Weathers. They were the heart of this story, weren't they? It's devastating to think they won't be around to see its conclusion."

As speculation continued, Sidney Prescott and Roman Bridger were being hailed as survivors. The story was everywhere, dominating the news cycle and capturing the nation's attention.

As the week progressed, more details emerged about John Milton's dark past, painting a picture of a man whose actions had been hidden under Hollywood's glitzy veneer for decades.

The first revelations centered on how Milton had been questioned by Gale Weathers in the weeks leading up to the massacre. According to investigators, Gale had uncovered that Milton had assaulted Maureen Prescott during her time in Hollywood as Rina Reynolds. This assault had resulted in the birth of Roman Bridger, a secret that had haunted Maureen for years and led to Roman's estrangement from her.

The second wave of revelations shocked the public even further. It wasn't just Maureen Prescott who had been victimized by Milton. Numerous actresses, both young and old, came forward with their own stories, attesting to Milton's long history of abuse and exploitation. Each account added another layer of horror to the narrative, exposing a pattern of behavior that had gone unchecked for far too long.

Third, investigators pieced together the sequence of events that led to the massacre. Milton, fearing that his past was about to be exposed, had snapped. Donning the Ghostface mask, he embarked on a killing spree to silence those who could destroy him. In the climax of his rampage, Milton saved Sidney Prescott and Roman Bridger for last, revealing to them their connection as half-siblings. Sidney and Roman ultimately united to take him down, ending his reign of terror.

Milton's past deeds alone were more than enough to rile up the masses. Voices from every corner called him a disgusting human being, worse than any of his Ghostface predecessors. His crimes, spanning decades and destroying countless lives, were seen as a new low even in the brutal history of the infamous mask.

The media bought the narrative hook, line, and sinker. And why wouldn't they? Sidney Prescott had survived every Ghostface attack, after all.

Sidney and Roman were hailed as the tragic survivors of yet another horrifying chapter in the Ghostface legacy. The story of the producer-turned-murderer and the siblings who fought back captivated the nation, ensuring John Milton's name would be remembered not as a Hollywood mogul, but as a monster.

Sidney Prescott sat under the bright studio lights, her expression carefully composed into a blend of quiet resilience and soft vulnerability. Beside her, Roman Bridger mirrored her calm demeanor, his posture slightly slouched to project the air of a man still recovering from tragedy. Cameras surrounded them, capturing every angle as Diane Sawyer sat across from them, poised and professional, her face radiating empathetic curiosity.

For years, Sidney had run from this—the press, the spotlight, the endless questions about her survival. She had shunned interviews, declined book deals, and lived her life as quietly as possible. But now? Now she understood.

Fame wasn't something to fear. It wasn't the monster she had imagined. It was exhilarating. Addictive. The people wanted a good survivor story, and she and Roman had given them the ultimate one.

"So," Diane began, her voice warm but direct, "you had never met each other before that night. What went through your minds when John Milton revealed that you were half-siblings?"

Sidney tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a soft smile that conveyed just the right amount of hesitation. "Honestly, I didn't know what to think at first," she said, her voice gentle and measured. "It was so surreal… I'd spent my whole life thinking I was an only child. And then, in the middle of all that chaos, to find out I had a brother?" She glanced at Roman, her expression shifting to something almost wistful. "It was overwhelming. But in a strange way, it felt… right."

Roman nodded, his jaw tightening just enough to suggest lingering pain. "For me," he began, his voice low and steady, "it was like a missing piece of my life finally clicked into place. I'd spent years feeling… disconnected. Like there was something out there I was supposed to find. And then, there she was. My sister."

Diane leaned forward slightly; her hands folded neatly in her lap. "But to have that revelation come from John Milton, a man responsible for so much pain in both of your lives… That must have been difficult."

Sidney lowered her gaze briefly, a calculated pause. "It was more than difficult," she said, her voice soft but firm. "It was devastating. To learn what he had done to my mother, to find out the truth about how Roman came into this world…" She shook her head, letting her voice trail off, her silence more powerful than any words.

Roman exhaled slowly, his expression hardening as he took his cue. "When Milton revealed everything, I felt… angry. Hurt. I've spent my entire life wondering about the circumstances of my birth, and to learn that I was the product of something so… evil…" He paused, his voice catching slightly, then continued. "It's something I'll carry with me forever."

Diane's brow furrowed; her voice tinged with sympathy. "That must be incredibly difficult, Roman. To know that your existence is tied to such trauma."

"It is," Roman admitted, his voice quiet. He glanced at Sidney, his expression softening. "But finding Sidney has given me something I never had before: family. And knowing that we were able to stop Milton together… it gives me strength."

Sidney reached over and placed a hand on Roman's, her gesture tender and deliberate. "We couldn't have done it without each other," she said, her voice steady. "Roman saved my life that night. And I'll always be grateful for that."

Diane's questions continued, each one more probing than the last. How had it felt to see John Milton finally fall? Did they feel justice had been served? How were they coping with the loss of Dewey Riley and Gale Weathers, two people so deeply connected to Sidney's life?

Sidney answered each question with care, her words weaving a narrative of strength and sorrow. Roman chimed in with his own reflections, his voice balancing Sidney's with a perfect blend of vulnerability and resolve.

The interview was a masterclass in performance. They played their roles to perfection: Sidney, the weary but unbroken survivor; Roman, the wounded but resilient brother. Together, they crafted a story that was both tragic and triumphant, a tale the world couldn't help but devour.

As the cameras panned out and Diane wrapped up the interview with a somber, "Thank you both for sharing your story," Sidney and Roman exchanged a knowing glance.

The lights dimmed, and the crew began packing up equipment. Sidney leaned back in her chair, letting out a soft sigh as she looked at Roman.

"Not bad for my first real interview," she said, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Roman chuckled, reaching over to ruffle her hair. "You're a natural, sis. The world's eating it up."

Sidney laughed softly, brushing his hand away. "Let them. We deserve this."

Roman's grin widened. "Damn right we do."

The siblings stood, their movements in sync as they exited the studio together. Behind them, the cameras still lingered, capturing their retreating figures as the world hung on their every word.

The view from Roman's luxury apartment stretched over the glittering lights of Los Angeles, the sprawling city alive with activity even as the night deepened. Inside, the atmosphere was calm, almost serene. Roman lounged on a plush leather couch, a tumbler of whiskey in one hand, his robe loosely draped over his shoulders. Across from him, Sidney reclined in an armchair, a glass of wine balanced delicately between her fingers.

It had been a long day, and the weight of their performance during the Diane Sawyer interview still lingered in the air like a faint charge of electricity. But now, with the cameras off and the world outside, the siblings allowed themselves a moment of quiet.

Sidney leaned back, her eyes scanning the room before settling on Roman. "So," she began, her tone light but curious, "are you going to turn this into a movie?"

Roman looked up from his drink, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Funny you should ask," he said, leaning forward slightly. "I've already been getting offers."

Sidney's eyebrows rose. "Really? That fast?"

Roman shrugged, the grin on his face widening. "What can I say? Hollywood loves a good tragedy. They're practically lining up to hand me the reins." He swirled his drink, watching the amber liquid catch the light. "I was thinking about calling it Stab 3: Hollywood Horror."

Sidney considered the title for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line. "It's not bad," she said, leaning forward to pick up her glass. "It's got a good ring to it."

Roman's expression shifted, a mock sigh escaping him. "But?"

Sidney smirked, her tone playful as she swirled her wine. "Drop the Hollywood Horror part. Just Stab 3. People don't like added titles. They like it simple. Clean. Direct."

Roman laughed, leaning back against the couch. "You're impossible, you know that?"

Sidney raised her glass in a mock toast. "And yet, I'm usually right."

Roman shook his head, the laughter still in his voice. "You might have a point. Stab 3. Simple, classic." He raised his own glass, tapping it lightly against Sidney's. "To Stab 3, then. Our story on the big screen."

Sidney smiled, her expression equal parts mischievous and satisfied. "The world won't know what hit them."

Roman grinned, reclining further into the couch as the siblings basked in the glow of their shared triumph.

The morning sun filtered through the wide glass windows of Roman's apartment, casting a golden glow over the sleek kitchen and dining area. Sidney sat at the counter, idly stirring a cup of coffee as the smell of freshly toasted bagels filled the air. Roman, still in his pajamas, leaned against the counter, his hair slightly disheveled from a restless night.

They had survived another day in the spotlight, their story cemented in the public consciousness, and now the world seemed to be at their feet.

Roman took a bite of his bagel, chewing thoughtfully before breaking the silence. "So," he said, his tone casual, "what's next for you?"

Sidney looked up from her coffee, arching an eyebrow. "Next?"

Roman nodded, setting his plate down on the counter and crossing his arms. "Yeah. You've got the world's attention right now. What are you going to do with it?"

Sidney leaned back in her chair, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "Funny you should ask," she said. "I've been getting book offers. A lot of them."

Roman raised his eyebrows. "Oh? The great Sidney Prescott, an author. I like it."

Sidney shrugged, but there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "Why not? If Gale could make money off my life, why shouldn't I? Might as well cash in on my own story instead of letting someone else tell it."

Roman laughed, nodding approvingly. "Now that's the spirit. If anyone deserves to profit off all the crap you've been through, it's you."

Sidney took a sip of her coffee, smiling over the rim of the mug. "Glad you approve."

Roman hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting toward the floor before looking back at her. "You know," he began, his tone awkward, "if you're not in a hurry to go anywhere… you could stay here. I mean, you don't have to, but, you know, if you want to."

Sidney blinked, momentarily surprised by the offer. Then her expression softened, and she laughed, the sound light and genuine. "The big bad Ghostface," she teased, "afraid of his baby sister's answer? That's adorable."

Roman rolled his eyes, though the faint blush creeping into his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. "Don't make it weird," he muttered, turning away to refill his coffee cup.

Sidney smiled, finding his timidness unexpectedly endearing. "I'll take you up on that," she said simply, her voice warm.

Roman glanced at her, his expression softening with relief. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sidney said, leaning back in her chair. "I think I could get used to this."

Roman smirked, shaking his head as he returned to the counter. "Well, just don't get too comfortable," he teased. "This is still my place."

Sidney chuckled, raising her coffee cup in a mock toast. "Whatever you say, big brother."

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Roman's apartment, casting long, golden streaks across the polished hardwood floors. Sidney paced the living room, her arms crossed as she glanced at the clock. She was dressed casually but neatly, her hair tied back, her expression tense.

Roman lounged on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, lazily flipping through channels on the massive TV. He was still in his usual state of relaxed smugness, a faint smirk on his face as he watched Sidney fret.

"Are you seriously nervous?" he teased, not looking away from the screen. "You've faced killers, survived massacres, and gone toe-to-toe with the media, and now you're worried about your dad?"

Sidney shot him a sharp look. "I'm not worried," she said, though the edge in her voice suggested otherwise. "I just… It's been a while since I've seen him."

Roman raised an eyebrow, finally turning his attention to her. "What's it been? A year?"

"Two," Sidney admitted, her tone softening slightly. "The last time was when I dropped off the grid."

Roman nodded, setting the remote down and swinging his legs off the table. "And you didn't tell him the whole truth then, did you?"

Sidney's silence was answer enough. She stared out the window, her fingers drumming lightly against her arm.

Roman smirked, leaning back on the couch. "Relax, Sid. It's going to be fine. I'll even behave."

Sidney turned to him, narrowing her eyes. "You'd better. I still love my dad, Roman."

Roman held up his hands in mock surrender, his smirk widening. "Scout's honor. I'll be the picture of charm and grace. Neil Prescott won't even know I'm here."

Sidney sighed, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "I'll believe that when I see it."

The knock at the door came a short while later, and Sidney's heart gave a slight lurch. She hurried to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.

There he was—Neil Prescott, looking slightly older and grayer than the last time she'd seen him, but still carrying the same gentle air of a man who had been through more than his share of hardships. He smiled warmly at her, his eyes softening as he took her in.

"Sidney," he said, his voice tinged with relief.

"Dad," she replied, stepping forward to hug him.

Neil wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly for a moment before stepping back to get a better look at her. "You look good," he said. "Better than the last time I saw you."

Sidney laughed softly, her tension easing slightly. "Thanks, Dad. Come on in."

She stepped aside, letting him into the apartment. Neil glanced around, taking in the sleek, modern décor.

"This is… quite the place," he remarked, his tone impressed.

"It's Roman's," Sidney said, gesturing toward her half-brother, who was now standing near the kitchen, his hands in his pockets.

Neil's gaze landed on Roman, his expression wary but polite. "Roman," he said, nodding slightly. "I've heard about you."

Roman smiled, the picture of calm politeness. "All good things, I hope."

Neil didn't reply immediately, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the man before him. "I wasn't sure what to think when I first heard about you," he said finally. "But Sidney's spoken highly of you. I'm… willing to give you the benefit of the doubt."

Roman nodded, his smile unwavering. "I appreciate that, Mr. Prescott."

Sidney glanced between the two men, feeling the faint undercurrent of tension but deciding to ignore it. "Why don't we sit down?" she suggested, gesturing toward the living room.

As they moved toward the couch, Sidney shot Roman a warning glance over her shoulder.

Roman rolled his eyes but gave her a subtle nod, his expression softening just enough to let her know he understood.

The small café Sidney and her father had chosen was nestled in a quiet corner of the city, far enough from the bustling streets to afford them some privacy. Sidney stirred her coffee absently, her eyes drifting out the window to where a couple walked by, laughing as they shared a pastry. Her father, Neil Prescott, sat across from her, studying her carefully as though trying to read her thoughts.

"I still can't believe it," Neil said finally, breaking the silence. "Your mother… never mentioning she had a son. That she kept something like that from us."

Sidney's hand stilled over her coffee cup, her jaw tightening. A faint sigh escaped her lips as she set the spoon down on the saucer. She didn't want to do this—not now, not here—but the weight of her father's words made it impossible to avoid.

"She didn't want to talk about her past," Sidney said after a moment, her tone measured. "I think she wanted to bury it. To start over."

Neil nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "But still," he murmured, almost to himself. "A child? That's not something you just… forget."

Sidney's jaw tightened further, but she stayed silent. Inside, a storm brewed—conflicted thoughts she'd rather not voice aloud. She had forgiven Roman for what he'd done to their mother, hadn't she? She had to; they were bonded now, siblings united by blood and necessity. But Maureen's death still gnawed at her in the quiet moments.

Sidney missed her mother, despite her faults. Roman's choice to kill her still felt extreme, no matter the circumstances. Infidelity, betrayal—none of that should have warranted the death penalty. But Sidney's own hands weren't clean either. The memory of her own actions—Sarah Darling's death, Tom's fiery end, Dewey and Gale's cold executions—flashed briefly in her mind.

She shoved the thoughts aside, taking a steadying breath. What was done was done. There was no room for regret.

"I don't want to talk about Mom right now," Sidney said finally, her tone sharper than intended.

Neil's gaze softened, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. "I understand," he said gently. "If it's upsetting you—"

"Upsetting me?" Sidney snapped, her voice rising slightly. She immediately regretted the outburst, but the irritation bubbling inside her refused to be silenced. "She had no right, Dad. No right to keep Roman away from me. He's my brother. I had every right to know he existed."

Neil blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in her tone. "Sidney—"

"What did she do?" Sidney continued, her voice low but sharp. "She shut him out. Turned him away when he tried to reach out to her. He came to her, Dad, and she slammed the door in his face. She kept us apart. And for what? To protect her perfect little image?"

Neil hesitated, his expression a mixture of shock and sadness. "I didn't know you felt that way," he said quietly.

Sidney shook her head, her gaze dropping to the table. "It doesn't matter," she said, her tone quieter now. "What's done is done. Roman and I… we've moved on."

Neil reached across the table, his hand resting gently on hers. "I'm sorry, Sidney," he said sincerely. "I can't change what your mother did. But I can be here for you now. And for Roman, if that's what you need."

Sidney looked up at him, her expression softening slightly. She didn't speak, but the faint nod she gave was enough to let him know she appreciated the gesture.

The late morning sunlight streamed through the windows of Roman's apartment, casting long shadows on the sleek furniture. Sidney sat cross-legged on the couch, sipping her coffee as she scrolled through the morning paper. Roman leaned against the kitchen counter, a cup of black coffee in his hand, his gaze distant as though lost in thought.

"Do you ever think someone will try to take up the mantle again?" Roman asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Sidney glanced up, raising an eyebrow at him. "What happened to 'we're the apex; there will never be anyone after us?'" she asked, her tone teasing.

Roman smirked, shrugging as he sipped his coffee. "I'm just saying, Sid. People are predictable. There's always someone who thinks they can do it better."

Sidney set her mug down on the table, leaning back against the couch as she considered his words. She could see his point. There would always be someone chasing the fame, the infamy, or the thrill that came with being Ghostface. But then a sly smile curved her lips, and a glint of mischief sparked in her eyes.

"You know," she began, her voice light but tinged with malice, "now that you mention it… I kind of hope someone does."

Roman raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And why's that?"

Sidney's smile widened, and she leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. "Imagine it," she said, her tone filled with dark amusement. "Some new Ghostface out there, thinking they're hot shit, planning their big debut. They pull all the strings, execute the murders, and get to their grand third act."

Roman tilted his head, a grin slowly spreading across his face. "Go on," he said, clearly enjoying where this was heading.

Sidney chuckled softly. "And then, just as they're giving us their big 'I'm the mastermind' speech, we pull an uno reverse card. We reveal ourselves. The real killers from Stab 3, the ones who got away. Their third act? It's not theirs anymore. It's ours."

Roman laughed, a genuine, hearty laugh that echoed through the apartment. "A Ghostface showdown," he said, shaking his head. "Now that would be something."

Sidney leaned back again, her smile wicked. "Exactly. They'd never see it coming."

Roman raised his coffee cup in a mock toast, his grin wide and approving. "You're devious, you know that?"

Sidney smirked, picking up her own mug. "Takes one to know one."

The two clinked their mugs together, sharing a conspiratorial laugh as they imagined the chaos that such a scenario would bring. In their minds, they were untouchable—predators at the top of the food chain. And if anyone dared challenge them, well… they'd just have to remind the world why Sidney Prescott and Roman Bridger were legends.

A/N: Not much action this chapter, I apologize for that. Hope you all enjoyed! I had a lot of fun writing Sidney and Roman's dynamic. Please feel free to review, I DO NOT CENSOR REVIEWS