From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 447

Chapter 447

Chapter 252: Remember What?

Savannah

“Why did you do that?”

Riley’s voice barely reached me. It slipped between the clink of

cutlery and the murmur of conversation like a secret never meant to

be heard by more than one person.

Around us, dinner continued normally.

Plates were lifted. Forks scraped porcelain. River laughed–soft,

polite, rehearsed. Wine glasses tilted. Servants moved in silent,

efficient patterns, refilling water, adjusting napkins, smoothing

wrinkles that didn’t exist. Then they were gone.

Just like ghosts.

It was as if the moment from earlier had never even happened. As if I hadn’t just been accused–indirectly, of course, because Reginald

seemed to never dirty his hands with direct blows–of infidelity. Of

deception. Of trapping his son with a pregnancy that didn’t belong to

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Chapter 447

him. Nor did he even want.

And even though I was furious at Reginald, a part of me felt guilty.

In honesty, I did force the child on Roman. He had one rule and I

broke it. He didn’t want children.

Could it be possible that deep down, Roman still wasn’t entirely

comfortable with this? The baby? Being a father?

Was he only going along with this and pretending because he knew it’d

make me happy?

Was he just agreeing to everything because he didn’t want to lose me nor

see me cry?

God, what have I done?

I looked around the room. Everyone was eating. Everyone except me.

I sat rigid in my chair, spine straight, shoulders tense, hands folded

tightly in my lap as if that alone could keep me from shaking. My

plate sat untouched before me, steam long gone, the food cooling

into something unappetizing and foreign.

I wouldn’t eat here. Not a single bite. Not after that. I wouldn’t even

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be surprised if Reginald poisoned my meal.

Anger burned hot and sharp in my chest, but beneath it was

something worse–something humiliating and raw. I felt flayed open.

Examined. Reduced to a problem that needed solving.

I had been discussed like an object. Like a liability. That arrogant,

narcissistic, pompous old bully.

Who the hell did Reginald Blackwood think he was?

“Do what?” I asked Riley quietly, turning my head just enough to

acknowledge her without drawing attention.

I knew exactly what she meant. The paternity test.

“Refuse to take it,” she said, her voice careful, controlled. Too

controlled for someone her age.

I let out a slow breath and looked at her fully now. Riley’s face was

composed, but her eyes were sharp and watchful in a way that didn’t

belong to a sixteen–year–old girl. She had learned, somehow, how to

survive in this house.

“Your father implied I was cheating on Roman,” I said softly. “He all

but called me a liar. A thief. A gold digger who basically slept her way

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into his family.”

Riley’s gaze flicked instinctively to the right, toward the head of the

table. Toward Reginald.

He sat exactly as I guessed he always did. Perfect posture. Calm

expression. Utter control. He looked like a man enjoying a perfectly

ordinary dinner, not someone who had just detonated a bomb and

watched everyone scramble to avoid the fallout.

“I know what it sounded like,” Riley whispered. “And I know how it

felt. But Savannah… I also know what I believe.” She paused, as if

weighing whether to continue. “I believe that baby is my brother’s.”

My chest tightened.

“Sir knows it too,” she went on. “He just doesn’t care. He wants to use

this.”

I swallowed hard.

“But do you really want to walk away?” she asked quietly. “Leave

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