Chapter 141 Cursed By Blood There are people you meet once and they leave a mark that fades with time. You even completely forget you ever met them. And then there are those who imprint themselves on your soul in ways you never asked for. The ones you find your thoughts drifting towards for no reason whatsoever. But not Reese. Reese wasn’t just a mark or a memory. He was a shadow that shifted shapes. A chameleon of sorts. As fascinating as he was deceitful. A man whose words could cut, whose smile could soothe, and whose existence felt like danger wrapped in charisma. He was bad news. I knew that the very first day we met. And yet—when he told the general that day that he didn’t touch her, I believed him. Even now, knowing who he’d meant when he said her, I still believed him. Strange, isn’t it? To believe a liar? Only fools do that. But not that Roman was lying either. He wasn’t. He was finally opening up to me, peeling back the thick, ugly layers of his family’s history, and it was messy. Complicated. Like the Blackwoods themselves were an endless puzzle, each piece uglier and more tragic than the last. And I was determined to solve that puzzle. “Did you ever confront Reese?” I asked softly. “Did you let him know that you were aware about what he planned with Dahlia? Did he know he was the father of the baby?” Roman’s gaze lifted to mine. His eyes were dark, hollow pools of exhaustion. “He denied everything,” he said, voice flat. “Every single thing. And I almost believed him. Reese has always had a way of making people see what he wants them to see. He’s cunning, charming. So charming he talked his way up a nun’s skirt and even made her thank him for it. It was disturbing.” A humorless laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “What if he was right, though?” I asked carefully. “What if he never touched your wife?” He gave me a look that made my heart lurch. “Don’t make the mistake of believing Reese, Savannah. He’s my brother, but I wouldn’t trust a single word that comes out of his mouth.” I wanted to argue, but I stopped myself. There was something fragile in his tone—something that told me I’d be crossing a line if I pushed further.“I wasn’t even allowed to see Dahlia’s body after the accident,” Roman said suddenly. His voice had gone quiet, almost trembling. “They said it was too horrific. She was only identifiable by her wedding ring and dental records.” The air left my lungs. I looked at his hands—resting on his knees, but trembling just slightly. The image of her burned into my mind: Dahlia, trapped, broken, alone. My chest ached imagining the horror she must’ve felt in those final seconds. And how miraculous it was that that tiny baby survived an accident that took her mother's life. “And the baby?” I whispered. “Did you hold her?” Roman’s throat bobbed. “I saw her,” he said. “I couldn’t bring myself not to. I went to the hospital every day, just to see her. To hold her.” He paused, like he had to force the next words out. “She weighed next to nothing in my arms, Sav. So tiny. So fragile. And she looked just like Dahlia. Same nose. Same mouth. Her name was Naomi.” I wiped the tears that fell from my eyes. He smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We picked names after we got married. Naomi if it was a girl. Landon if it was a boy we had first. She… still called her Naomi, even though…” He swallowed hard. “Even though she wasn’t mine.”My throat tightened. “I can’t believe I was once excited at the thought of being a father,” he whispered. I stepped closer, my voice barely above a breath. “Nothing stops you from being excited again, Roman. You’ll be a father one day. And it won’t be the same. I’m not Dahlia. And none of your future children will be like Naomi, or end up like Naomi.” He looked up sharply, horror flashing through his eyes. Then his gaze dropped—to my stomach. Burning past my robe. “Savannah…” His voice broke. “Are you pregnant?” The words hit me like a slap. I stepped back. My hand moved instinctively, clutching my stomach as if to protect something that wasn’t even there. “No,” I said quickly. “I’m not pregnant.” He exhaled, his relief so sharp it almost sounded like pain. “You don’t understand,” he said hoarsely. “It’s not just Dahlia and Naomi. It’s everything. Everyone. It always happens.” A chill slid down my spine. “What happens?” He clasped his hands together, pressing them to his mouth as though in prayer. His eyes were far away when he spoke again. “Why do you think Ryan unknowingly fathered a child with your sister while he had a wife who could give him one?” My brows knitted. “Because his wife was infertile, wasn’t she?” He shook his head slowly. “No, Savannah. She’s not infertile. Ryan’s the one pulling the strings.” My pulse quickened. “What are you talking about? Ryan's infertile?” “No.” He leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper that made my skin crawl. “Charlotte goes to the spa that Ryan chose for her every week. But she has no idea that it’s not a spa. She’s being sedated and injected with something. Some kind of contraceptive. I don’t know the full details yet, but I know it’s intentional. He’s been keeping her from ever getting pregnant. And he does it because he’s terrified.” I blinked. “Terrified of what?” Roman’s eyes flicked up to mine. “Of what happens to the women who carry a Blackwood child.” My blood turned cold. “Before,” he went on, “I thought Ryan had a vasectomy, or that he was just… the first Blackwood who shot blanks. That was before Emily. He knew it was too dangerous—that he wouldn’t gamble with Charlotte’s life. So he had to act fast. And it worked. But then Alyssa got pregnant. He told me she was supposed to terminate it immediately.” He stopped. “Emily was a surprise,” he whispered. “A shocking one. The first Blackwood baby to survive since the curse began with our own mother.” The silence that followed was suffocating. Curse. That word echoed in my mind, very loud and heavy, like thunder rolling across a dark sky. “Roman…” I said softly, afraid of the answer. “What do you mean—curse?” He looked at me then, really looked, and there was so much grief in his eyes it made me take another step back. “Our mother died giving birth. She was too old. And her heart was too weak. I was already in college then and Reese was done with high school. So you can understand why it was never supposed to happen. But my father called it a miracle. My mom was excited. But it didn't end well.” he said bitterly. “Every Blackwood woman who has carried a child since has either lost the baby or died with it. My sisters, Dahlia, Aunts, … and before them, others we don’t talk even about. We always celebrate. Have a big feast, then tragedy hits right after. It’s like our blood rejects the idea of life continuing. Like something in this family was never meant to grow.” He dragged his hands through his hair, shaking his head. “Ryan believes it. That’s why he manipulates Charlotte. That’s why he makes sure she can’t conceive. He doesn’t want to lose her the way we’ve lost everyone else.” The kitchen felt colder. I couldn’t move. All this time, I’d thought the Blackwoods’ darkness was about power, manipulation, greed—but it was deeper. Something older. Something rotten that bled through generations, taking mothers and daughters and babies with it. “It all makes sense now,” I said quietly, almost to myself. “Ryan’s obsession with Alyssa. His fascination with Emily. The way he wanted the little girl to himself. He was just… shocked.” Roman nodded slowly. “Emily was an anomaly. A miracle. To the world, she’s just another child born from an affair. But to Ryan—and to all of us—she’s proof that maybe the curse is finally breaking. Or maybe she’s just the calm before the next storm.” His words hung heavy between us. I stared at him, seeing him not as the strong, unshakable man he’d always been, but as someone haunted by ghosts—his mother, his wife, his daughter, his bloodline. He looked tired. So painfully tired. And in that moment, I understood something I never had before… Roman wasn’t the way he was because he wanted to be. He was that way because he was terrified. Because everything he loved had been taken from him, one way or another. I moved closer and stopped in front of him, resting my hand over his. His skin was cold, tense beneath my touch. “Roman,” I said softly, “you can’t keep carrying this like it’s your fault.” He didn’t answer. Just stared at the floor like it might swallow him whole. I wanted to say something else—something comforting, something that might pull him back from whatever dark place his mind had gone—but the words refused to come. Instead, I stayed there, my hand over his, both of us drowning in a silence filled with the echoes of everything that had been lost. When he finally spoke again, his voice was a whisper. “You shouldn’t have come into this all this, Savannah.” “Too late,” I said quietly. “I already did.”He looked up then, his eyes burning with something I couldn’t name—fear, guilt, longing. Maybe all of it at once. And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if the Blackwoods were cursed by blood… or by the choices they made… Or worse, by a puppet master pulling the strings behind the scenes.