From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 91

**From Best Friend To Fiancé**

**Chapter 91**

**Chapter 59: Test Drive**

I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, fixing Chloe with a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Why don’t you just ask your virile fiancé?” I sneered, letting each word drip with disdain, relishing the way it stung.

The hit landed with the force of a slap. Her eyes widened in shock for a fleeting moment before narrowing into slits, her lips compressing into a thin, furious line. She sensed the mockery woven into my words.

“You’re insane,” she shot back, venom lacing her voice. “Am I really supposed to stand here and listen to a bitter ex spew lies?”

A low, humorless laugh escaped my lips, echoing in the tense air between us. “Oh, Chloe. You know, denial looks particularly ugly on you. But we both know the truth, deep down.”

“Yeah, we both know you’re desperate. And delusional,” she retorted, her voice climbing in pitch, the anger radiating off her like heat waves. “Dean never got a vasectomy. That might just be another lie he told you to keep you from clinging to him. I wouldn’t put it past him. You’ve always been a pest.”

With a sharp turn on her heel, she attempted to dismiss me, just like she always did. But the words tumbled out of me before she could escape.

“It’s Zane’s, isn’t it?”

She froze mid-step, her shoulders tensing up like a coiled spring. The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy, before I continued, my tone soft yet sharp enough to cut.

“I kept wondering why Zane was at the mall that night. It didn’t make sense… until last night. You’ve been sleeping with him behind Dean’s back, haven’t you? And let me guess…” I inhaled sharply, the weight of my words pressing down on us both. “That night was when you told him you were pregnant.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, glancing around like a guilty child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. It was almost pathetic.

“But here’s the part that really puzzles me,” I went on, tapping my chin in mock contemplation. “You’ve been drinking wine all week, Chlo. Either you’re dumber than I thought, or you’re lying through your teeth.”

For a brief moment, her composure faltered. She stumbled back, her face paling as if I had physically struck her.

“What are you talking about?”

Her voice cracked, brittle and fragile. “Can’t I drink wine if I’m pregnant? Is there a law that prohibits me from doing that?”

I felt my jaw slacken in disbelief. Was she really this dense? Or was she just playing dumb to save herself?

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