From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 218

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**

The weight of dread settled in my chest, a sensation I hadn’t felt since the phone call shattered my world. “What?” I managed to utter, my voice barely above a whisper.

He raked a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as if he were trying to pull them out in frustration. “Now her father is adding sexual assault to the mountain of ludicrous charges against me. And they expect me to just waltz in and play along like I’m not being hunted for something I didn’t do!”

The word “rape” lingered in the air between us, a thick fog that refused to dissipate.

I blinked slowly, processing the gravity of his words. “That’s insane. They haven’t even located her… or found a body yet.” I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. That statement felt like a weight pressing down on my chest.

“I know.” His voice trembled, cracking under the strain of his emotions. “My lawyer told me I need to return immediately, or they’ll assume I’m fleeing. But if I go back and they arrest me, I might never get out again.” His eyes locked onto mine, filled with a desperation that made my heart ache. “I don’t know what to do, Sav. I’m… I’m scared, Sav.”

Hearing him say “I’m scared” felt foreign, almost pitiful, coming from someone I had always viewed as strong and unwavering.

I exhaled sharply through my nose, trying to gather my thoughts. “When did this new evidence surface?”

“Yesterday,” he replied, his voice tight. “They claim it looks like the suspect was trying to dispose of evidence yesterday. But that’s impossible, because I was at your place, then at your office. I was with you the entire day!”

I nodded, recalling the timeline he had shared. “You mentioned that.”

He let out a hollow laugh, devoid of humor. “If I were guilty, I would have tossed the evidence into the river, not left it out in plain sight like some kind of fool.”

He had a point, and yet, that wasn’t the crux of the matter. My mind raced, piecing together the fragments of this chaotic puzzle.

Something was amiss.

Dean’s narrative didn’t align—not because he was lying, but because someone else was clearly orchestrating this twisted game. And at the center of it all was Chloe. My sister.

The very sister who had a knack for manipulating situations to her advantage. And her father? The master puppeteer, always lurking in the shadows of malevolence.

I turned my gaze toward the window, watching the city lights flicker against the fogged glass, each glow a reminder of the chaos outside.

“Take me home, Dean,” I said, my voice flat and devoid of emotion.

He blinked at me, confusion etched on his face. “Sav…”

“Dean,” I interrupted, turning to meet his gaze directly. “Take me home. Now.”

He searched my eyes for a moment, perhaps looking for a glimmer of compassion or understanding, but all he found was my exhaustion.

That seemed to cut deeper than a direct accusation ever could.

He nodded slowly, a small, defeated gesture. “Right. Of course you don’t.”

I stepped out of the car without another word, closing the door with a definitive thud that echoed through the empty street. As Dean drove away, I stood there for a moment, allowing the cool night air to bite at my skin, hoping to clear my mind.

I started walking toward my building, each step feeling heavier than the last, my thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm. All I wanted was a hot shower, fresh clothes, and Roman at my side to help me escape the horrors of this day.

But as I reached my door, something caught my eye. A white paper was taped crookedly to the wood, fluttering slightly in the draft from the hallway. Frowning, I stepped closer, straining to read the words.

**24-HOUR EVICTION NOTICE**

For a few agonizing seconds, I stood there, staring blankly at the notice as it seemed to stare back at me.

The overhead light flickered ominously, and my stomach dropped as I reached out, tearing the notice from the door. I examined the bold black letters again— the date, the signature, the cold, official stamp that made it all too real.

Twenty-four hours.

Everything felt as though it was crumbling around me in slow motion.