From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 513

Chapter 513

Chapter 291: I Raised Daughters

Roman

Luck must have been on my side today. Or maybe something darker

had decided I hadn’t suffered enough yet.

Luck had never been something I totally believed in. Not truly. Not in the way people spoke about fate aligning or invisible hands guiding outcomes. My life had never been shaped by fortune–only by

consequence.

And yet, as I pushed open the heavy doors to my father’s office and saw Ryan standing there, I almost reconsidered because he wasn’t

exactly who I had come to find.

But he was someone I was desperate to get my hands on.

Laptop tucked under one arm. Crisp baby–blue shirt perfectly pressed. Those same glasses perched on his nose like he was about to give a lecture instead of breathing my air. All together he looked composed and untouched. As if nothing in the world had changed. As if I hadn’t nearly died. As if he hadn’t stepped into my life like a replacement.

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For a few seconds, he just stared at me. Completely still.

His eyes widened slowly, disbelief rippling across his face. He looked

like he was seeing a ghost–and in that moment, I suppose I was one.

A man he thought was out of the way. A problem he thought was

solved.

Then the silence snapped.

Rage took over before thought could intervene.

“Bastard!” My fist collided with his face with a force that reverberated through my bones. The crack of impact echoed sharply against the

office walls.

His head snapped back. The laptop slipped from under his arm and slammed against the polished floor with a dull, final thud. He staggered, clutching his nose as blood spilled between his fingers.

I didn’t give him time to breathe.

I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him forward, fury roaring in my ears like a storm breaking loose. “You fucking scoundrel!” I

shouted, my voice raw. “I’ll kill you!”

My fist drove into his stomach. He doubled slightly, breath leaving

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him in a harsh grunt, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. Every ounce of

anger that had built inside me over the past weeks poured into my

fists.

But Ryan was never one to fold quietly. Even stunned, even bleeding,

he shoved at my chest with surprising force.

I barely felt it.

He shoved me, trying to break free, but rage had turned my body into

something heavier, harder. I barely moved. I struck again. And again.

And again.

The world narrowed to impact and breath and heat. Then he

retaliated viciously. Ryan had always been violent. Cold violence.

Precise violence. The kind that didn’t waste motion.

His knee drove directly into my abdomen. Straight into the bullet

wound.

The pain was instantaneous–white–hot, blinding, electric. My body

reacted before pride could interfere. I released him with a sharp

intake of breath, instinctively clutching my stomach as fire spread to

that point.

For a split second, the world stopped existing and only pain reigned.

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But the distraction was short–lived.

Rage swallowed the pain whole.

I lunged forward again–only to be held back from behind. Strong

arms locked around my chest, unknowingly pressing against the

wound there.

Hudson.

“Get off me!” I snarled, struggling against his grip. He held firm,

immovable as a wall. I twisted free once, only for him to hold me back

again, stronger this time.

Across the room, Ryan straightened slowly. Blood ran freely from his

nose, streaking down over his lips and chin.

He pulled out a handkerchief with trembling fingers and pressed it

against the wound, eyes blazing behind his upside down glasses.

I pointed at him, chest heaving. “I’ll kill you for laying a hand on

Savannah!” The words tore out of me like a promise I was sure I’d

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