From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 387

Chapter 387

Chapter 220: The Serena Case

Reese

“The Serena Case.”

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Those three words hit me like a punch to the ribs–sharp, unexpected, meant to hurt. Even after Roman stopped talking, they echoed in my head, circling, taunting, refusing to let me breathe.

I tried to keep my face neutral, casual even, because that’s what I do when shit gets bad. I joke. I pretend. I

deny. But inside, my chest tightened until the pressure clawed up my throat.

Most people go through life thinking they’ve got problems — bills, breakups, heartache, loneliness. Me? My

entire existence is one giant problem sealed with the Blackwood name. I didn’t ask to be the son of

General Blackwood. Didn’t audition. Didn’t sign up. Yet here I was, stuck with it like a brand I could never

scrub off.

But Serena? If the Serena he meant was the Serena I knew… then I was screwed. Utterly, hopelessly,

catastrophically screwed.

“Reese.” Roman’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “Did you hear what I just said?”

I blinked. Then forced a nod. “Yeah, yeah. Of course I did.” My voice cracked, and I coughed to hide it. “How did you hear about that? I mean… what even is that?”

“I heard it from Paula.” Roman stood, stretching like his whole body was braced for war. “She told me to ask my father about the Serena Case. She should explain it better.” He turned to leave. “Hold on. I’ll bring

her.”

“Yeah. Sure, Go fetch her. I’ll wait.”

My voice wobbled on the last word.

He looked at me, brow furrowed, like he could sense something was seriously off. Roman wasn’t stupid. He was annoyingly perceptive when it came to everything. And for a second, I could tell he wanted to question me, pry open whatever expression I was failing to hide,

But he didn’t. He walked out.

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Chapter 387

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And the moment he left, I felt everything inside me–fer, memory, guilt–surge up like a wave I couldn’t

outrun.

Should I tell him?

Should I just… say it? Lay everything bare?

But what if I was wrong? What if this entire Serena Cas had nothing to do with the Serena I knew? What

if I opened my mouth and confessed something he wasn’t even asking about?

No. No, who was I kidding? Of course it was the same Serena.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Not now. Not yet.

I heard footsteps–two sets, one heavy, one uneven–and I looked up.

Roman walked in first. Behind him was the short–haired girl from earlier. And she walked with a limp so

pronounced it looked painful. Her right leg was heavily bandaged, the white dressing spotted faintly with

dried blood. A bullet wound. Definitely. I’d seen enough of them to recognize the shape, the posture, the

wince she tried to disguise.

“Paula,” Roman said, motioning toward the couch. “Sit.”

She lowered herself slowly, breathing out through her teeth. Once settled, her gaze flicked around the

room. “Nice house.”

“Thanks,” Roman replied stiffly. “Need anything? Water”

“No.” She paused. “Not now. Maybe later.”

I stared unapologetically at her leg. “Let me guess,” I said dryly, “he shot you?”

Roman answered before she could. “Yes. She wasn’t always this cooperative.”

Paula rolled her eyes. “It’s a bullet wound. I’ll live. I’ve urvived worse.”

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