From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 259

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**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**

**Chapter 259**

“No,” he replied, his tone steady and unwavering. “What I’m trying to convey is that you need to tread carefully with this. If it goes south in a public spectacle, it’s not merely Penny who will take the hit—it’s you too. You’ll be painted as the villain who obliterated a woman’s career simply because she dared to challenge you. And let’s not forget, you were married to her twin sister, who tragically passed away while still bound to you.”

The weight of that final statement struck me with an unexpected force. For a fleeting moment, the atmosphere in the room stilled, as if the air itself held its breath. Terry’s words lingered like the remnants of smoke, curling and twisting in the silence.

I exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in my chest ease just a fraction. “Go on,” I urged, my curiosity piqued.

He nodded, a spark of encouragement igniting in his eyes. “Listen closely. You have every justification to despise her. But if you act hastily, if you choose to go public with your grievances, she’ll craft herself into the victim. The headlines will practically write themselves: ‘Powerful man annihilates female lawyer for daring to speak out.’ You’ll unwittingly play right into her narrative.”

Terry leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were piecing together a complex puzzle. “But if you choose to proceed with caution… quietly… that’s an entirely different game. You can dismantle her life in ways that will leave no trace back to you. You can make her question everything—her friendships, her firm, even her own sanity—without ever having to raise a finger in public.”

A smile threatened to break free from my lips, the corners twitching upward. Now he was articulating my thoughts. “Go on,” I said, my interest fully captured.

“You know this woman better than anyone else. You’re acutely aware of her vulnerabilities, her deepest fears, the secrets she hides even from herself. That’s where you strike. Not at her reputation, but at her psyche. You drain her from within. Slowly, so imperceptibly that she won’t even realize she’s crumbling until she finds herself on the floor.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What’s the one thing that makes Penelope weak?”

That question reverberated in my mind long after he posed it. What truly makes Penelope weak?

It certainly wasn’t money. She had already demonstrated her ability to thrive without it. Status wasn’t her Achilles’ heel either—she was far too ambitious and stubborn to allow a title to define her worth.

But people? That was where she faltered. She placed her trust in the wrong individuals. She believed in the unworthy. She loved those who didn’t deserve it.

I felt a sense of clarity wash over me. I knew precisely how to make her shatter. I knew exactly who to manipulate.

Turning back toward the window, I gazed out at the sprawling city, my reflection mingling with the skyline as I contemplated my next move.

“She thinks she’s invincible,” I murmured, almost to myself. “But even queens bleed when you strike the right vein.”

Terry let out a humorless chuckle, the sound devoid of any real mirth. “I’m betting you already have a plan brewing in that mind of yours.”

I glanced over my shoulder, locking eyes with him. “I always have something up my sleeve.”

He scrutinized me intently, and for a brief moment, I could see the internal struggle playing out on his face—whether to caution me once more or to remain an observer. Ultimately, he simply nodded, his expression serious. “Whatever you’re plotting, ensure it’s clean. Leave no breadcrumbs.”

I smiled faintly, a flicker of confidence igniting within me. “I never do.”

He stood up from the couch, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I’ll check in later. Just try not to set the world ablaze before breakfast.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, the silence in the office morphed into something thicker, more oppressive.

I moved to the bar and poured myself another drink, the amber liquid catching the light as I swirled it in the glass. I wasn’t truly thirsty; I simply needed something to occupy my hands before I succumbed to recklessness.