From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 433

Chapter 433

Chapter 244: Don’t Be Late

Savannah

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When the call with Lizzie ended, I stared down at my phone long after the screen went dark.

For a moment, I just stood there, the night wind brushing against my skin, the distant thrum of helicopter blades still echoing in my bones. Guilt sat heavy in my chest, thick and suffocating, like something lodged there that refused to be swallowed.

I hope you’ll forgive me someday, Lizzie.

I hadn’t lied to her. Not really. But I hadn’t told her the full truth either. I just left it to Reese because he knew what to do. And somehow, that felt worse.

I was protecting her. I knew that. I believed it with everything in me. If something happened to her–if she got pulled into this twisted, dangerous world Roman came from–I would never forgive myself.

And I knew, deep down, that this was exactly what Roman would have done.

He would’ve shut the door gently. He would’ve smiled, reassured, taken the burden onto his own shoulders without hesitation. He would’ve carried it alone if it meant keeping the people he loved safe.

That was who he was.

I closed my eyes briefly and exhaled. “I hope I’m doing the right thing,” I whispered to no one.

When I opened my eyes again, Blackwood Manor loomed before me.

It was… unreal.

And suddenly, every ounce of stubbornness and fight I had inside me earlier had disappeared.

I was in General Blackwood’s territory now. And I practically knew no one in this huge place.

Huge didn’t even begin to cover it. Massive. Monstrous. This was the kind of place that didn’t just exist–it completely dominated.

The manor rose out of the darkness like something alive, its sprawling structure illuminated by hundreds–no, thousands–of carefully placed lights that cast long, sharp shadows across the grounds.

It reminded me of a museum. Or a castle. Or one of those old estates you only ever saw in movies–the kind where terrible secrets lived behind locked doors and nothing good ever happened after sunset.

The haunted kind.

The helicopter had barely touched down before I felt it.

That wrongness.

It slid under my skin the second my feet hit the ground, prickling along my spine tightening my chest. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, every instinct screaming that this was not a place meant for warmth or comfort.

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09:50 Sat, Jan 10 SC

Chapter 433

These was thong rates are: Something deeply, irrevocably wrong that made me understand why Roman treated this place the way he did.

16/1 kw fare to explain it.

There’s just something wrong here. Something very wrong. You can just…. feel it is the air

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1 bugged my arms around myself and forced my breathing to dow as I took in the grounds properly. The first thing that caught my attention was the rose

garden

God It was breathtaking

Yow after sow of massive rose bushes bloomed in perfect symmetry, their petals deep, violent red that almost looked black under the night sky. They were meticulously maintained, not a single wilted leaf in sight, the scent was faint but heavy in the air.

They were beautiful in the way sharp things often were. Then my gase drifted to the fountain. At its center stood a statue–tall, imposing. That stature and cane are unmistakable

General Blackwood.

Even carved from stone, be radiated authority. The sculptor hadn’t softened a single line. The sharp jaw, the unyielding posture, the black and grey hair, the cold, distant expression. Water cascaded sound him, but he semained untouched elevated above it all. A man immortalized exactly as he was.

And then there were the cars. These were so many of them that I was scared of imagining what all that would have cost.

An entire section of the man was dedicated to them–glass–fronted garages line with vehicles so expensive it made my head spin. Different models. Different brands. Den ny

A pink Porsche sat body under the lights, gleaming Beside it, a lime green Lamborghini practically screamed for attention.

I swallowest

Those definitely didn’t belong to the General Anyour could tell that.

No–those were Komman’s siblings. The Blackwood beirs. The unseen ghosts behind the walls who were probably living lives of excess and indulgence while Roman.. while Roman had been forged into something else entirely.

Standing there, surrounded by all that wealth and power, I suddenly felt very smal

I realized I had stopped walking.

I must have looked ridiculous–just standing there, turning in slow circles, my mouth slightly open as I tried to process the scale of it all. This place I’d heard about in tension filled conversations, was suddenly real

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