Chapter 197 Clear My Name Savannah The moment those words left Chloe’s mouth, my ears didn’t just ring, they collapsed. A sharp, throbbing pressure swallowed all sound, turning everything into a distant, suffocating noise. My own heartbeat was suddenly the only thing I could hear, pounding against my ribs like it was trying to claw its way out. But her words—those insane, impossible words—kept replaying in my head even though I couldn’t hear anything else. I could still see her lips moving, could still see the twisted smirk stretching across her face, but I couldn’t understand a thing. Everything blurred. Everything tilted. Kingston… touched Chloe? No. No. No. That wasn’t real. She couldn’t possibly mean what she said. I would have known. I would have seen something. How could she say something like that? How could something so monstrous have happened right beside me without my knowing? My chest tightened dangerously. Air refused to come in.“Savannah… baby, breathe.” Roman’s voice cut through like a hand reaching into water. I felt his palms rubbing my arms, slow and comforting, grounding me. “Breathe for me, my love,” he coaxed gently. “Come on. In and out. Just like that, baby. You're doing great.” I didn’t even realize I’d had trouble breathing until he said those words. My throat was closing. My heartbeat was pounding in my ears like fists on a door. But apparently, not even my inability to breathe was enough to silence my sister's rage. She tore into me with venom sharpened by years of pain. “You can’t breathe, Sav?” she taunted, voice dripping with a hatred so sharp it felt like knives thrown at my skin. “Good. Good. At least now you know what it felt like every time I watched you watch me get raped through that glass.” Roman moved so quickly I barely saw him. His body went rigid as he stepped in front of me so suddenly that even Paula flinched. “I swear to God, if you do not shut up right now, Chloe,” he growled, “I will hurt you so bad—” “Go ahead!” Chloe screamed, lunging forward despite Paula holding onto her arm, eyes blazing with madness. “Do it, you prick! I dare you!” Her scream ricocheted off the apartment walls. I had never seen that look on Roman’s face—the kind of look that a burning building might have, moments before it collapses in on itself. His fists clenched so tightly the bones in his knuckles turned white. His jaw was set hard, trembling with the effort to keep himself from snapping. For a terrifying moment, I thought he might forget Chloe was a woman and charge at her just to protect me. I truly feared he would lose control. That he would forget she was my sister. That he would harm her because he loved me too much to hear this filth spill from her mouth. I grabbed his arm. “No, wait. Roman, stop.” But his eyes were still locked on Chloe. Almost as if he was imagining all the ways he could break the bones in her body or do significant damage to her face. And that alone terrified me. “What glass are you talking about?” My voice shook. “Chloe, I never watched anything from any glass. I never—” Words tangled in my throat. I never watched anything. I never watched you from any glass. There was only a mirror. No glass. You remember that mirror I told you that I always felt like someone was watching me through? You remember, right?” She scoffed, but I pushed through, desperate, trembling. “You were the one always running off to Kingston’s library to see his butterflies. That was you. I never forced you. Mom and Julius forced us both to go there. I hated that place—God, I hated it so much. But they trusted him. They trusted the wrong person. So, don’t you dare blame me for something I know nothing about. You don’t know half the hell I’ve gone through, Chloe.” “Oh, and you think I haven’t seen hell?” she spat, trembling violently now. Her lower lip quivered, and fat tears slid down her face. Paula tried to hold her still, but Chloe shook like she was being electrocuted by her own memories. Her entire body shuddered so much that if Paula weren’t holding her upright, she’d have collapsed. It struck me then that this was the first time in more than a decade that Chloe looked… human. Not composed. Not perfect. Not filtered or weaponized. Just ruined. For the first time in over a decade, I saw a version of my sister that was real, not the polished, bitter stranger she’d become. No dramatic eyeliner. No perfect lashes. No flirtatious tilt of her head. No vicious smirk. Just a hurting human being. Chloe was just a broken, bleeding girl who had never healed. She sucked in a shaky breath and screamed, “Do you know what it felt like the first time when Asher told me he wanted to show me butterflies? Huh, Sav?! Do you?!” My heart stalled.“There were no butterflies! Only him! Only nightmares! Only terror. And do you know whose fault it was that I got molested and raped and defiled for thirteen goddamn years?! Whose fault?! Who do you want me to blame? Myself? Mom? Alyssa?” Her voice cracked, tears rolling uncontrollably. “No. I choose to blame you. Because every time he forced something inside me, he would whisper it into my ears that my big sister was such a good girl to obediently bring me to him all the time.” My hand flew to my mouth. “He told me that you liked watching us from the glass. He said you were his. That you wanted to help him. That you—you liked it.” My heart dropped into ice water. I gasped, gripping Roman's hand tightly. “Chloe…” My voice cracked. “Don’t pretend, Sav!” she cried, eyes wild. “You were an accomplice! And what did you sell me out for? Good grades? Money? Attention? What?! Tell me!” I took a step back like she’d physically struck me, shaking my head in disbelief. Roman stepped forward so fast I barely registered that he'd even moved. “That’s a lie,” he thundered. “That bastard lied to you. You were just a child—”“She’s not lying,” Paula hissed. “Your precious wife here sold her sister to a beast. Don’t defend her.” Roman pointed a finger in Paula's direction. “You, shut up. And stay the hell out of this.” “Roman,” I whispered, voice breaking. “Stop.” My voice came out small. “That’s not true. I didn’t—” But I already knew nothing I said would reach her. Her mind had been poisoned for too long. I had a sinking realization that nothing I said would unpoison Chloe’s mind. Not after so many years of Asher’s voice whispering lies into her ears. Chloe let out a laugh. “Not true? Really? You still think you’re innocent? Still playing the victim?” She pointed accusingly. “You still want to defend your boyfriend in front of your fiancé?” “He wasn’t my boyfriend,” I snapped. “He was my professor—” “But you got pregnant for him!” she shrieked, cutting me off. “You got pregnant to trap him and keep him from his wife, Monica! I saw everything, remember?! You lied and said he raped you because Mom and Dad found out! You’re such a selfish, evil bitch—” Roman’s restraint snapped.He grabbed her arm, yanking her forward roughly. “Watch your mouth, you little tramp,” he snarled into her face in that terrifying low tone that only appears when he’s seconds from violence. “Don’t make me do something I’ll regret. I'm warning you. I’m not saying it again.” “Roman, stop!” I pulled him back with both hands. “Please.” Chloe laughed in his face—a broken, deranged, maniacal sound. “Go on! Hit me, Roman! Come on! You obsessed freak! You're too whipped to see what she really is.” “You’ve got it all wrong,” I said, stepping forward. My voice was hoarse. “I would never… never sell you out. You’re my sister. Asher lied to you. He twisted everything.” Her eyes hardened into stone. “Did you or did you not get pregnant for him?” My breath froze. The truth was a noose slowly tightening around my neck. I opened my mouth and closed it knowing that this time, the truth wasn't going to set me free. It was going to suck me in deeper. Finally, I whispered, “It’s true. I got pregnant for him. But it’s not what you think. It’s not how it happened, Chlo. You don't understand—” She barked out an ugly laugh. “You claim you didn’t know anything, yet that day you came home stained and crying, I tried to help you. And what did you do, Savannah? You tried to sell me out too.” The memory hit me like a truck. I remembered grabbing her hand because I was terrified and needed her with me. I remembered holding on tight because I thought we’d be safer together. I remembered not letting go. But in her world… In her trauma…My helplessness became something else.