From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 442

Chapter 442

Chapter 249: You’ll Understand

Savannah

It was about five minutes later when Reese finally stepped out of Roman’s room. He had a handkerchief clenched in one fist.

I didn’t ask where it came from. I didn’t ask if he was okay. I didn’t ask anything at all. Some grief didn’t need commentary, and Reese’s was the kind that demanded silence.

We walked side by side down the hallway, the space between us filled with unspoken words and a tension so thick it pressed against my chest. The manor felt different now. It was even colder and heavier. Every step echoed too loudly against the marble floors.

“You know,” Reese said suddenly, breaking the silence, “I want to be mad at you.”

My stomach dropped.

“I want to cuss you out. I want to hurt you for being anywhere near that gun that left Roman in that state.”

I swallowed hard, my throat burning.

“But I can’t,” he continued, jaw locked. “My brother would hate me forever if I ever laid a hand on you. He’d never forgive me. He’d never speak to me again.” He scoffed under his breath, disbelief threading through his voice. “Hell, he might even physically attack me.”

He shook his head slightly, as if the thought stunned him.

“I don’t know what you did to him,” he went on. “I don’t know how you suddenly became the center of his entire existence. But one thing I do know, Savannah-” He finally looked at me. “If anything goes wrong, you’re the one I’m coming for. I will hunt you down like an animal. And that’s a promise.”

I froze.

There was no rage in his eyes. Just truth.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I would never consciously hurt him. I love him.”

“I know,” Reese replied immediately.

Then he picked up his pace. “Come on. We wouldn’t want to arrive after my father.”

I hurried to keep up. “What happens if we do?” I asked, partly out of curiosity, partly out of dread.

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9:57 Tue, Jan TS

Chapter 442

He didn’t even took back.

“Pick around and you’ll find out, Savannah,” he said casually, shoving his hands into his pockets.

The Journey to the dining room felt endless.

Twisting corridors. Staircases layered in red carpet. Hallways lined with portraits of men who all shared Roman’s face in some form–se eves, same jaw, same aura of cold authority.

It was fascinating how Reese navigated the manor without hesitation. He didn’t slow. He didn’t pause. He knew this place the way one knows scars on their own body.

Eventually, we descended a grand staircase and stopped before a massive double door flanked by two armed security men. They didn’t glance at us. Didn’t even acknowledge us. They just stood like statues.

I knew instantly that this was the dining room. And that everyone was already inside.

My stomach twisted violently.

My palms were slick with sweat, and I rubbed them down my pants, trying—and failing—to steady myself. My heart thudded so hard I wondered if the others could hear it from inside the room.

Then Reese pushed the doors open.

This was not a dining room. This was a banquet hall. A long table stretched across the room, gleaming beneath massive chandeliers. Gold dominated everything–gold tablecloths, gold–rimmed chairs, gold cutlery so polished it reflected the light like mirrors.

Platters of food covered the table. More food than any family could possibly eat in one sitting. This wasn’t dinner. This was a display.

Red and gold decoration. Again.

Blackwood Manor might as well have been built on excess. And for a brief moment, I forgot how to breathe.

If someone had told me a place like this existed in this country–on this continent–I would have laughed loudly. This felt like I’d stepped into a medieval castle straight out of a Victorian nightmare.

Then I heard it. The whispers around me from the people I was yet to pay attention to.

“Is that her?”

“Oh my goodness… she’s really not blonde.”

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9:57 Tue, Jan 13

From Best Friend To Fiancé