From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 141

**Chapter 89: Blackwood Manor**

**Roman**

The moment Reese had declared he was suffering from a migraine this morning, a sinking feeling settled in my gut.

How could I have been so blind? The bastard had orchestrated the entire charade, a ludicrous little performance designed solely to buy himself more time. It was classic Reese—always scheming, always plotting. And now, because of his antics, my sanctuary had been breached.

My malevolent father and his shameless wife had invaded my home. They were here, within my walls, breathing the same air I did, standing on my goddamn floor. And to make matters worse, they had cornered Savannah during my absence.

I had stepped out for a quick run, hoping to clear my head and warm up. A brief detour to visit Penny followed, and I made a stop at the store to pick up a few essentials for Savannah, including her medication. Reese knew exactly where I was headed; he was acutely aware that I wasn’t giving him the luxury of overstaying his welcome. He should have been long gone by the time I returned. Instead, I pulled into my driveway to find sleek black cars lined up like a funeral procession, ominous and foreboding. My stomach twisted in knots, rage clawing at me from every conceivable angle.

As I stepped inside, the atmosphere felt suffocating. My father’s presence loomed large in the living room, as if he owned the place. Savannah stood in the center, her wide eyes flitting nervously between him, Cassandra, and Reese.

God help me, if I hadn’t walked in at that precise moment, she might have uttered a yes to their insidious invitation. I could see it etched clearly on her face, the slight lean of her body betraying her temptation. She was drawn to Blackwood Manor.

Drawn to that accursed place.

This was precisely why I had kept its existence hidden from her. All my efforts to shield her from that darkness had crumbled in an instant. And it was all Reese’s fault.

I despised Blackwood Manor more than I could articulate. It stood as a monument of cruelty, a structure dressed in marble and glass that whispered of past horrors. To me, it was nothing more than a mausoleum filled with bad memories and terror. If you had asked me just a week ago, I would have sworn that nothing could ever compel me to return there. Not God, not money, not even the Devil himself.

Nothing good had ever emerged from that house.

Except for her. My sweet, innocent flower.

But even she had been taken from me, and Blackwood Manor played a significant role in that tragedy.

And now, because of Savannah, I found myself with an unexpected reason to revisit that cursed place.

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