From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 175

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**
**Chapter 175**

A low, sharp chuckle escaped my lips, reverberating in the tense air between us. “You really think I care about my father? The truth is, inflicting pain on him brings me a twisted kind of joy. My purpose here isn’t to safeguard his interests; it’s to shield hers.”

I crouched down, bringing myself to his eye level, the metallic scent of iron from my gloves wafting towards him. “I thought perhaps allowing my men a turn with you would serve as a form of justice. But you’re so perverse—you’d find a way to relish it, wouldn’t you, Asher? You’d savor every moment, even as you bleed. That’s how deranged you are.”

His eyes flickered with a spark of sick amusement, as if he found humor in the depths of his own depravity. “You think you have me all figured out?” he taunted, a smirk playing on his lips.

I shrugged, the motion dismissive, as if his words held no weight.

“So no,” I declared, rising to my full height, my voice steady and resolute. “You don’t get that privilege. You don’t get the luxury of a swift death or the twisted thrill of your fantasies coming to fruition. Instead, you will face what you fear the most.”

I turned my gaze to my men, my voice commanding. “Hold him down.”

They sprang into action, their movements swift and decisive, pinning his broken body against the floor. His shrieks morphed into something primal as the reality of his impending fate dawned on him.

“Please!” he screamed, desperation lacing his voice. “Not that! Anything but that! I’m sorry! I swear I’m sorry!” His breath came in ragged gasps, fear overtaking him. “I admit it! I forced myself on her! I raped her! She never wanted it! I’m truly sorry!”

His voice cracked, spiraling into hysterical sobs as one of my men revealed the knife. I stood back, an observer to the unfolding chaos, cold and detached, my heart unyielding.

“Take it,” I commanded, my tone leaving no room for argument. “Ensure he never harms another girl again.”

And I watched.

His screams pierced the air, raw and unfiltered, before they devolved into wet gasps. Blood pooled dark across the floorboards, seeping into his trousers, spreading like a shadow that threatened to engulf him entirely. He writhed in agony, then finally sagged, utterly broken.

They nodded, understanding the weight of my command.

Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pulled out my phone and scrolled to the one number that represented something far removed from bloodshed and vengeance. When my secretary answered on the first ring, my voice was calm, almost tender.

“Find me the most expensive florist in Philadelphia,” I instructed. “Tomorrow morning, I want the largest, most exquisite arrangement they can create delivered directly to my girl. White lilies, red roses, orchids—make it grand and unforgettable. Spare no expense.”

There was a brief pause on the line, followed by a quiet acknowledgment of my request.

I hung up, sliding the phone back into my pocket, the stench of blood thick and suffocating around me. The corpse at my feet felt like nothing more than an empty shell. The echoes of his screams still reverberated within the walls, but amidst it all, Savannah remained my everything.

Tomorrow, she would be met with flowers so stunning that they would never betray the darkness of what I had done tonight to avenge her pain.