Chapter 166 Forgive Me, Roman Roman Of all the things I feared might ever stand between Savannah and me, I never thought it would be this. A baby. If she had asked for the moon, I would have built her a ladder to the sky. If she wanted the ocean, I’d have drained my veins and poured them at her feet. But this… this wasn’t just about what she wanted. It was about what I could lose. About what I couldn't give her. The idea of her carrying my child should have filled me with joy. Once upon a time in my imagination, it did. I have pictured it sometimes—tiny versions of her crawling through the house, her laughter echoing down the hall, her hair in little curls. I would see her standing in the kitchen, her belly round, her cheeks glowing, and think God, that’s home. That's where I belong. Where we belong. But those imaginations always disappear when I remind myself that love and life in my family come at a price. She sat on the bed, hands braced on each knee, her eyes hopeful and soft. The light from the lamp painted her skin gold like a fucking goddess, and for a moment, I almost caved. I wanted to give her everything she wanted. I always do. “Roman,” she said quietly. “You’re not saying anything.” Her voice trembled, not with anger, but with fear. She wanted to hear me say yes—to give her the words she could hold onto, the promise she’s been building her dreams around. I stared at her for a long time. I couldn’t lie to her. Not about this. “I love you too much to take that risk, baby,” I said finally, my throat tightening with the weight of the words. The way she looked at me then… It broke me. Her eyes turned glassy, shimmering with tears she was too proud to let fall. “Roman, you’re hurting me. Please.” “I’d never want to hurt you, my love.” I reached for her, but she flinched away like my touch might burn. Her shoulders quivered. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and shook her head. “That’s bullshit, Roman,” she snapped, her voice cracking. “You know why? Because this so-called Blackwood curse doesn’t exist! It’s not some ancient force—it's your father! He's putting fear in you all! The almighty General Blackwood is the one killing off his own future generation!” I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s not him.” She scoffed, disbelief written all over her face. “And what makes you so sure?” I hesitated. I hadn’t told her this part of my family’s story before. There was no need to. It was a memory I buried deep. But her words opened the grave. And honestly, I wanted to be a better man for her. An honest man. “Because there was one time,” I said quietly, pacing the floor, “when my father couldn’t have been the reason.” Her brows knitted, confusion softening her anger. “My father had a sister. Felicia.” The name felt strange on my tongue after all these years. “She lived in Scotland. They never spoke—hadn’t for decades. She didn’t come to weddings, funerals, or holidays. They hated each other. She always said she pitied us who had him as a father.” Savannah stayed silent, listening. “She used to write letters once a year. Always in December. She’d tell us about her life, her husband, her home. I used to look forward to those letters, mostly because she was the only one who didn’t treat the Blackwood name like a curse. She wrote like it meant something good. Like we were something good.” I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down my face. “One year, her letter came early. My father was in Paris for political reasons and I was the one who read it. Inside, she’d written something different. She was pregnant.” I paused. “She was scared, Sav. She’d kept it from everyone—including my father. She wanted it that way.” I remembered the night I burned the letter, the fire melting into the paper until it became ash. “I destroyed it,” I said bitterly. “I thought I was protecting her. I thought if my father never found out, maybe the curse wouldn’t reach her. Maybe she’d finally be safe. And I'd finally be certain that it was him.” Savannah’s eyes softened. “But the next letter wasn’t from her,” I continued. “It was from her husband. He wrote that she’d died during childbirth. She and her baby girl. They both didn't make it to morning.” Savannah’s breath caught. She pressed her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God.” I turned away before she could see the look in my eyes. “So no, Sav. It’s not my father. It’s not a coincidence. It’s something else. Something that doesn’t care about reason or love or science. Every woman in our family who’s tried… died trying.” The silence that followed was thick enough to drown in. I walked to the closet and pulled on a pair of sweats, just to do something with my hands. “I’d give you anything in the world, my love,” I said, facing her again. “Anything. Except your death.” Her lips quivered. “Roman…” “I mean it, Savannah. I’d burn every Blackwood property to the ground if it meant keeping you safe. But I will not put a child in you if it means I’ll bury you next.” For a second, she didn’t move. Then she whispered something that made the room tilt. “Forgive me, Roman.” The words were wet with tears, trembling on her lips. “What?” I asked, my chest tightening. She was crying now—shoulders shaking, fingers twisting the edge of the blanket. I tried to take a step toward her, and that’s when I saw it from the corner of my eye. Something small and white was half-hidden beneath her suitcase in the closet. I frowned and crouched down. The second my eyes landed on it, the world stopped.A pregnancy test kit. My pulse slammed in my ears. I stared at it for a heartbeat too long, as if maybe if I blinked, it would disappear. But it didn’t. It just sat there staring back at me. I turned back to her slowly, the sound of my heartbeat roaring in my head. “Savannah.” My voice came out low. “What is this?” She sobbed harder. “Forgive me.” I moved to her, kneeling in front of her, trying to keep my voice calm even though my insides were unraveling. “What’s wrong, my love? Tell me.” Her tears fell faster. “I should have told you earlier.” The air in my lungs turned to glass. “Told me what, Savannah?” She finally met my gaze. “I haven’t been taking the pills, Roman,” she whispered. It felt like the ground vanished beneath me. Every memory—every time I’d held her, kissed her, made love to her, came inside her—it all rewound in my head, scenes flashing like lightning. Every time I thought we were being careful, every moment I believed her when she said she was safe—it was all a lie.I stood up, my chest heaving. “You… you what?” She cried harder. “I’m sorry, Roman! I just— I just wanted a child.” Her words hit me like blades. “You kept me in the dark all this time, Sav. You… you used me.” “No! I would never do that to you, Roman. I love you. I just wanted to have a life with you,” she cried. “A real one. A family. You promised me forever, Roman. What’s the point of forever if we can’t build anything in it?” I ran a hand through my hair, pacing, trying to breathe through the storm tearing through me. “You don’t understand what you’ve done.” “I understand perfectly,” she said through her tears. “You’ve let fear rule you. You’ve let a myth decide what kind of person you are, what kind of father you could be.” “It’s not a myth, Savannah!” I shouted before I could stop myself. The sound echoed off the walls, and she flinched. I hated myself for raising my voice at her, but the panic was suffocating. “You think I don’t imagine this? You think I don’t dream of it every damn day? But I won’t lose you. Not to this. Not to something I can’t control.” She stared up at me, her face streaked with tears. “Then you’ll lose me another way.”I looked at her—at the woman I would die for—and I realized I already was. Slowly, painfully. “I can’t believe you did this,” I whispered. My throat burned. “You lied to me.” “I did,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “But I did it because I believed in your love for me more than anything. Because I believed our love could win.” I sank onto the bed, elbows on my knees, head in my hands. My chest felt too small for the chaos inside it. Love. Fear. Rage. Desperation. All tangled together, pulling me apart. For a moment, neither of us spoke. When I finally looked up, she was watching me—eyes swollen, face streaked, but still so unbearably beautiful. “What if I lose you, Sav?” I whispered. “What if I wake up one morning and you’re gone? What do I do then? Bury you next to every other woman this family has lost? I can’t, Savannah. I can’t.” She shook her head, crying softly. “Then maybe stop seeing death where there could be life.” Her words broke something open inside me—something fragile, something ugly. Because for a second, I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that maybe she was right. That maybe love was stronger. That maybe if anyone could survive this curse, it would be her.But hope is a cruel thing for a man who’s buried enough of it. I stood and walked toward the window, gripping the frame so tightly my knuckles went white. “Do you even know what you’ve done?” “I know exactly what I’ve done,” she said behind me. “I’ve chosen to believe in us. Even if you won’t.” I turned around slowly, the words clawing their way up my throat. “You’ve deceived me, Savannah.” She flinched, as if the truth itself had struck her. “I did it out of love,” she whispered. “Love?” I laughed bitterly. “Love doesn’t hide. Love doesn’t lie. You’ve taken the one thing I swore to protect and made it your battlefield.” She looked at me, broken but defiant. “And I’d do it again if it meant you’d stop living like you’re cursed.” The pain that surged through me was unlike anything I’d felt before. Not even the first time I buried the woman I loved. This was different. Because this time, the death wasn’t literal—it was in trust. I took a slow step toward her. “Savannah…” My voice shook, and I hated how weak it sounded. “What if you’re already pregnant?” Her lips parted, but no sound came out. That silence was all the answer I needed. I closed my eyes. The curse, the fear, the love—it all tangled together until I couldn’t tell which one was which. And when I opened them again, she was still there, trembling, clutching her hands together like prayer might save her. I wanted to hold her. To forgive her. To believe her. But all I could feel was the hollow ache of betrayal sitting cold in my chest. I sank to my knees in front of her and reached out, my hands hovering just shy of touching her. “If anything happens to you…” I swallowed hard. “Sav, if anything happens to you because of this—because of me—I’ll never survive it.” Her tears fell onto my hands. “Then love me enough to believe that nothing will.” I closed my eyes. I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But deep down, I already knew. The curse had never been about bloodlines or ghosts or fate. The curse was love itself—this endless, vicious thing that always found a way to take what I loved most. And now it had her. The only thing worth living for.