From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 275

**Chapter 161: Don’t Act Innocent**

Reese

My jaw tightened, a reflex against the absurdity of her words. “Come again?”

She held my gaze without flinching, a spark of defiance igniting in her eyes. “Roman told me himself. He said you were screwing Dahlia behind his back. He said you were the one who got her pregnant.”

The casualness of her tone struck me like a lightning bolt, igniting a firestorm of disbelief within. Pregnant.

A laugh escaped me, sharp and incredulous. “That’s cute. Roman’s rewriting history again. Seriously, he’s losing his grip on reality.”

“Don’t play innocent.” Her voice quivered now, a cocktail of anger mixed with something deeper, something raw and vulnerable. “You were always in that house. Always with her. You looked at her like—”

“Like what?” I interjected, my voice rising with irritation. “Like I cared about her? So now that’s a crime? You really think I’d betray my brother like that?”

“Stop acting innocent,” she shot back, her frustration palpable. “You and Dahlia were too close—way too close.”

“So what?” I leaned in, my voice low and challenging. “You think that just because we had a friendship, I’d sleep with my brother’s wife? Do you really believe I’m that reckless?”

For a brief moment, she hesitated, her resolve flickering. “Roman believes it. And honestly, I can’t blame him.”

“So you’re willing to take the word of a man who’s hell-bent on destroying you?” I scoffed, the bitterness in my tone unmistakable. “You’re not the person I remember, Penny.”

“I’d rather believe that than trust anything that comes out of your mouth, Reese.”

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to maintain a facade of calm. “Isn’t it amusing how everyone loves to rewrite history when it suits their narrative? I was the villain. Dahlia was the victim. And Roman? The poor, heartbroken husband. It’s all so convenient, don’t you think?”

Her expression softened, just a fraction, but it was enough to catch my attention. “Then tell me, Reese. What really happened?”

I leaned back, a smirk playing on my lips. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

“Try me,” she urged, a challenge lacing her words.

“Look at me,” I repeated, softer this time, desperation creeping into my tone. “Please, baby.”

She tried to pull away, but I caught her arm gently—not hard, just enough to halt her retreat. The brief contact sent a flicker of warmth coursing through me.

“Search my face,” I murmured, my voice low and sincere. “If I’m lying, you’ll know.”

For what felt like an eternity, she searched my eyes, her breathing becoming erratic, her lashes glistening like morning dew. The defiance in her gaze began to dissolve, replaced by a sudden wave of grief—sharp and overwhelming.

“She was my sister,” she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. “And she’s gone. None of this should even matter anymore.”

“I know,” I replied, my voice surprisingly gentle, even to myself. “But she’s gone because of him, not me.”

A trembling hand pressed against her mouth, her shoulders shaking as the weight of her sorrow bore down on her. Seizing the moment, I reached out, and when she didn’t pull away, I drew her closer.

Her forehead rested against my chest, and the familiar scent of her hair enveloped me, a bittersweet reminder of all that had transpired. For a heartbeat, the world around us faded, reduced to the sound of her muffled breaths and the rhythmic bass thrumming beneath our feet.