From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 274

**Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**

**Chapter 274**

**Chapter 160: In The Flesh, Darling**

**Reese**

Life feels deceptively simple when you know, without a doubt, that victory is already yours. There’s an intoxicating thrill in that realization—an ego boost that comes from the knowledge that everything unfolding before you is destined to collapse just as you envisioned. It’s reminiscent of the Penelope case—or rather, the Penelope predicament.

Penny, my ex. Six years my senior, two shades more aloof, and a formidable woman to dismantle. Most men find themselves trembling in the presence of a woman like her, but not me. I learned early on that power can be intimidating until you uncover its vulnerabilities. Find the right pressure points, and suddenly, they’re the ones who unravel before your eyes—those who come undone faster than anyone else.

That’s the real thrill: witnessing the self-assured lose their grip and thanking you for it. Tonight, she was my target. My chess piece in this elaborate game. My next conquest.

I nestled into a booth at the back of the club, the dim lighting casting a sultry red hue on the whiskey glass cradled in my hand as I observed her from the shadows. From this vantage point, she was blissfully unaware of my presence. But I was acutely aware of every detail—every flick of her hair, every fleeting glance of disappointment directed at the door, each agonizing moment she spent pretending she wasn’t waiting for someone who would never arrive.

Her date—a married man with four children—had abruptly canceled just an hour ago. And I might’ve had a hand in that little twist of fate.

Earlier, I had spotted the scoundrel lingering outside, and I cornered him near the parking lot. I made it abundantly clear that if he didn’t hightail it out of there, I would ensure his wife learned every sordid detail of his plans for the evening, which he had disguised as a “business trip.” The man had nearly stumbled over himself in his haste to flee to his car before I could finish my warning.

What a shame. I had been looking forward to watching Penny rip him to shreds upon discovering his betrayal.

But this was just as satisfying.

Penelope was blissfully unaware of her date’s marital status. She had no inkling that she had narrowly escaped a scandal. And she certainly didn’t know that she was about to step into a different kind of mess altogether.

Tomorrow, she had a significant case on her hands—she was part of the defense team for Senator White’s golden boy, who had turned drunk driving into a lethal hobby, resulting in a tragic death at a bus stop. The hearing was set for 9 a.m., and my objective for the evening was crystal clear: ensure that Penelope wasn’t at her sharpest.

Ideally, I wanted her to be too sore or too wrecked to even think about stepping foot in that courtroom. And if she did manage to show up, I wanted her to regret every moment of it.

I took a long sip from my drink, watching her over the rim of the glass. She looked stunning in that effortlessly elegant, yet unapproachable way that women like her possess when they think no one is paying attention. Her beige trench coat hugged her figure perfectly, glossy black heels accentuated her long legs, and a delicate shimmer of gold sparkled at her collarbone, catching the light just right. She had dressed to impress, anticipating a night filled with flirtation, perhaps even passion. Instead, she was met with disappointment—and me.

“Geness yet date flaked,” I overheard someone whisper, and I couldn’t help but smirk.

At that, she froze. A subtle shiver coursed through her body. Then she turned, and for a heartbeat, my heart nearly stopped.

For just a fleeting moment, it wasn’t Penelope sitting there.

It was Dahlia.

In that split second, my chest tightened. The same lips. The same jawline. The same eyes that once looked at me as if they could see right through my bravado. Those eyes that had once reflected a belief that I was worth saving. But this time, the woman before me was not truly Dahlia. She was merely a shadow—a bitter, angry, and very much alive echo of the woman I had loved.

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