From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 171

**Chapter 105: Why Do I Face Execution?**

Roman

The moment was palpable, a silent tremor that coursed through the air, and I felt it as her body stiffened in my embrace. It was a subtle shift, almost too delicate for anyone else to notice, yet to me, it resonated like a thunderclap in the stillness. Her heart raced against my chest, a frantic rhythm akin to a bird trapped in a cage, desperate to escape. Each beat echoed her fear, a cacophony of emotions that her lips dared not articulate.

Savannah was terrified. Terrified of me. Terrified of the truth I had just laid bare before her.

And honestly, she had every reason to feel that way.

I had vanished without a trace, only to return with blood staining my hands and a lifeless body that I had left in my wake. If I had been honest from the start—if I had revealed that my absence was due to my quest for vengeance against her abuser, that I would taint my hands with his blood—she would have fled from me. I could already envision the same haunted look in her eyes that I had witnessed that fateful night when she shared the horrors of her past with me. The agony of her memories was etched into her soul, and I couldn’t bear to see that look again.

That was precisely why I had chosen silence.

She didn’t belong in this dark, twisted world. Not in my father’s world. Not in mine. Not in the world we were entangled in.

Her innocence, her gentle spirit, were fragile threads, barely holding together in the face of reality. If I were to shatter them with the weight of my truths, she would break. And I… I couldn’t fathom surviving that devastation.

So, instead of confessing, I resorted to what I knew best. I devised a plan. I orchestrated a strategy. I manipulated the pieces on the chessboard of our lives until they aligned with my intentions.

The day I drove her back to her apartment, my mind was already made up. She wouldn’t remain there for long. Not in a place where she was vulnerable, where the very walls could whisper the memories she should never have to relive. I sought out her landlord, a pathetic, avaricious man with a belly that jiggled like jelly and skin glistening with sweat. It took less than ten minutes of conversation to dangle a sum of money before him, an amount that was triple the value of the building itself. I could see his eyes widen, his hands trembling as greed consumed him. By the time I finished presenting my offer, he was already scrambling for the paperwork.

He believed he had outsmarted me. Thought he had tricked the Blackwood name by selling a building at an inflated price. Poor fool. He had no inkling that what I truly desired wasn’t his property—it was her.

Without a trace of hesitation, I scrawled my name across those documents, the ink drying swiftly, even faster than the smile that faltered on his oily face. Soon, Savannah would receive an eviction notice. And when that moment arrived, where would she turn?

Straight to me.

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