From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 266

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**

**Chapter 266**

**Chapter 156: They Built This Hell**

**Reese**

The absurdity of the situation is almost comical if it weren’t so tragic. Roman’s fiancée just stood there, her words slicing through the air like a knife, accusing me of conspiring to murder my own flesh and blood. And as if that wasn’t enough, she insinuated that I had been unfaithful to my brother with his wife, Dahlia.

Dahlia. My brother’s wife.

I would love to feign ignorance about how she arrived at such a ludicrous conclusion. How could anyone, let alone the people I once considered family, come to such a twisted interpretation of reality? But deep down, I know exactly how this all spiraled out of control.

I can see it clearly—the way Father, with his venomous whispers, has always poisoned Roman’s mind. He was the one who first planted those insidious seeds of doubt about my relationship with Dahlia years ago, sowing discord where there was none. And now, with her gone, he must have delighted in using me as his scapegoat once more. The great General has a talent for rewriting history, keeping his hands clean while others bear the weight of his sins.

Roman, ever the obedient son, lapped up every word as if it were gospel. He believed our father’s lies, swallowed them whole without question.

The animosity Roman harbors for me didn’t materialize overnight; it was meticulously crafted over the years. I understood it, even if I didn’t agree with it. He was in mourning, desperate for someone to blame, and I happened to be an easy target, conveniently close at hand.

Yet, what infuriates me most is that he refuses to acknowledge the truth—that Dahlia’s death was not inevitable. The guilt gnawing at him is a festering wound, and rather than confront it, he allows it to infect everyone around him.

If only he had taken the time to truly see her. If only he had loved her the way she longed to be loved. If only he had been present for the woman he vowed to cherish, none of this tragedy would have unfolded.

I prefer to believe that Dahlia faced her final moments in that cold, empty mansion, surrounded by people who sought to manipulate her, to break her spirit, to claim her as their own. And Roman, consumed by his ambitions, was oblivious to her suffering. His relentless pursuit of success paid off in the end, but by then, the woman who had devoted herself to him—his quiet, loyal wife—was lost forever.

This is a secret that once belonged to three individuals: Dahlia, our father, and me.

Now, it’s merely a bond between two—myself and the God of War.

I can’t even pinpoint why I did it—was it loneliness? Guilt? A desire for self-destruction? It hardly matters now. What I do know is that it was wrong. So profoundly wrong that every time I looked at Penelope, I saw Dahlia’s face staring back at me. It was disturbing, the way my mind twisted her twin into a haunting reminder of the woman I had lost.

They were polar opposites, those two. Dahlia was soft and gentle, her words measured and kind, while Penelope was fire—sharp, bold, and fiercely independent. Dahlia wouldn’t raise her voice even if her life depended on it, whereas Penelope never seemed to know when to stop talking. In fact, she once threatened to take Roman down a peg or two, and that’s how I found myself caught in this tangled web.

And yet, somehow, it was Dahlia who bore the brunt of the blame when everything went awry. When chaos erupted, it was her name that echoed in the accusations.

Savannah had spoken with such conviction, declaring that Dahlia had plotted against Roman, that she had been unfaithful, that she was a danger to everyone around her. But where did that notion even come from?

Roman. It had to be him.

But who had fed him those lies?

Father. Always Father. The Great fucking General.