From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 179

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**
**Chapter 179**

I press my lips gently against her temple, taking care to avoid stirring her from her slumber. As I carefully extract my arm from beneath her, she lets out a soft groan, a subtle protest against the absence of my warmth. Yet, as I replace my arm with a pillow, she instinctively curls around it, as if she’s still holding onto me in her dreams.

How utterly adorable she is.

For a fleeting moment, I find myself frozen in place, captivated by the sight before me. I take in every detail—the delicate curve of her cheek, the graceful slope of her neck, and the way her body instinctively curls in trust, as if the world outside no longer exists. I wish I could freeze time right here, encapsulate this image in my heart forever, but I know all too well that peace is a fleeting thing. It’s always just out of reach.

As I step out of the bedroom, my phone feels unexpectedly heavy in my palm, a weight that pulls me down as I navigate the eerie silence of midnight. The stillness of the house feels almost sentient, as if every corner is eavesdropping, holding its breath while I dial a number I haven’t touched in what feels like an eternity. Six years? Seven? Maybe even a decade. I’ve long lost track of the time spent trying to erase his voice from my mind, and yet here I am, standing on the precipice of a conversation I never wanted to have.

It rings once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth, it connects.

“Roman.” His voice is smooth and controlled, layered with the sound of clattering keyboards in the background. He doesn’t sound surprised at all. Instead, he says, “What a pleasant surprise. Didn’t know you still had my number.”

The smugness in his tone sends a shiver down my spine, igniting a fire of irritation that I struggle to contain.

“I’m not here to mend bridges,” I retort sharply, cutting through his arrogance like a knife. “What business did you have with Asher Kingston?”

A silence stretches between us, thick and heavy, broken only by the crackling of the fireplace in Blackwood Manor. I can vividly picture it—the grotesque dragon-headed mantle, ancient and imposing. He sits there, surrounded by opulence and decay, a king presiding over a kingdom of ashes.

“Is this your way of returning to the family?” he asks, his voice dripping with condescension.

My grip on the phone tightens, knuckles whitening. “Is this your way of sinking even lower? Associating with rapists now?”

“We’re all defined by the same terms, just different spellings,” he drawls, his voice languid and infuriating.

“Asher Kingston was a fucking rapist!” I snarl, my voice rising with each word. “Did you know that? Imagine my surprise when he casually mentioned my father in a familiar tone. Do you have no limits? How disgusting can you be?!”

He chuckles, a cold, mirthless sound that makes my blood boil. “The woman he raped is your flavor of the moment? What a small world we live in.” I can hear the creak of leather as he shifts in his chair. “She’s quite an interesting woman. Very bold… Very disrespectful.”

His words strike me like a punch to the gut, the air leaving my lungs in a rush. Rage floods my system, faster than I can contain. “You knew?” I manage to choke out.

“Rape,” he says slowly, savoring the word as if it were a fine wine. “That’s a convenient accusation for women who regret a night of passion.”

My vision narrows, the world around me fading as I focus on his deranged logic. “You must be out of your mind to think she’d lie about something like that—”

“Be careful, my boy,” he interrupts, his tone shifting to something more sinister. “The girl you’ve chosen? She’s trouble. Women like her always are. One day, you’ll find that accusation turned back on you.”

My pulse quickens, a wave of nausea washing over me. “You make me sick,” I spit, my voice trembling with unrestrained hatred. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were human. I can’t believe I didn’t see your true nature from the very beginning.”

“And what is that?” he inquires, his voice laced with mocking curiosity.

“A monster,” I reply, the word escaping my lips like a curse.

He laughs again, as if my words amuse him. “Believe it or not, you’ve always been my replica after Ryan. You take after me in more ways than you realize.”

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