Chapter 244 Don't Be Late Savannah When the call with Lizzie ended, I stared down at my phone long after the screen went dark. For a moment, I just stood there, the night wind brushing against my skin, the distant thrum of helicopter blades still echoing in my bones. Guilt sat heavy in my chest, thick and suffocating, like something lodged there that refused to be swallowed. I hope you’ll forgive me someday, Lizzie. I hadn’t lied to her. Not really. But I hadn’t told her the full truth either. I just left it to Reese because he knew what to do. And somehow, that felt worse. I was protecting her. I knew that. I believed it with everything in me. If something happened to her—if she got pulled into this twisted, dangerous world Roman came from—I would never forgive myself. And I knew, deep down, that this was exactly what Roman would have done. He would’ve shut the door gently. He would’ve smiled, reassured, taken the burden onto his own shoulders without hesitation. He would’ve carried it alone if it meant keeping the people he loved safe. That was who he was. I closed my eyes briefly and exhaled. “I hope I’m doing the right thing,” I whispered to no one. When I opened my eyes again, Blackwood Manor loomed before me. It was… unreal. And suddenly, every ounce of stubbornness and fight I had inside me earlier had disappeared. I was in General Blackwood's territory now. And I practically knew no one in this huge place. Huge didn’t even begin to cover it. Massive. Monstrous. This was the kind of place that didn’t just exist—it completely dominated. The manor rose out of the darkness like something alive, its sprawling structure illuminated by hundreds—no, thousands—of carefully placed lights that cast long, sharp shadows across the grounds. It reminded me of a museum. Or a castle. Or one of those old estates you only ever saw in movies—the kind where terrible secrets lived behind locked doors and nothing good ever happened after sunset.The haunted kind. The helicopter had barely touched down before I felt it. That wrongness. It slid under my skin the second my feet hit the ground, prickling along my spine, tightening my chest. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, every instinct screaming that this was not a place meant for warmth or comfort. There was something rotten here. Something deeply, irrevocably wrong that made me understand why Roman treated this place the way he did. I don’t know how to explain it. There's just something wrong here. Something very wrong. You can just… feel it in the air. I hugged my arms around myself and forced my breathing to slow as I took in the grounds properly. The first thing that caught my attention was the rose garden. God. It was breathtaking. Row after row of massive rose bushes bloomed in perfect symmetry, their petals a deep, violent red that almost looked black under the night sky. They were meticulously maintained, not a single wilted leaf in sight, the scent was faint but heavy in the air. They were beautiful in the way sharp things often were. Then my gaze drifted to the fountain. At its center stood a statue—tall, imposing. That stature and cane are unmistakable. General Blackwood. Even carved from stone, he radiated authority. The sculptor hadn’t softened a single line. The sharp jaw, the unyielding posture, the black and grey hair, the cold, distant expression. Water cascaded around him, but he remained untouched, elevated above it all. A man immortalized exactly as he was. And then there were the cars. There were so many of them that I was scared of imagining what all that would have cost. An entire section of the manor was dedicated to them—glass-fronted garages lined with vehicles so expensive it made my head spin. Different models. Different brands. Different colors. A pink Porsche sat boldly under the lights, gleaming. Beside it, a lime-green Lamborghini practically screamed for attention. I swallowed. Those definitely didn’t belong to the General. Anyone could tell that. No—those were Roman’s siblings. The Blackwood heirs. The unseen ghosts behind the walls who were probably living lives of excess and indulgence while Roman… while Roman had been forged into something else entirely. Standing there, surrounded by all that wealth and power, I suddenly felt very small. I realized I had stopped walking. I must have looked ridiculous—just standing there, turning in slow circles, my mouth slightly open as I tried to process the scale of it all. This place I’d heard about in tension-filled conversations, was suddenly real. This was where Roman grew up. Where he spent most of his life. Where something—something terrible—had happened to him. I slowly turned, taking it all in again, trying to imagine him here. Not the man I knew. Not the sharp, guarded, infuriatingly complex Roman I had fallen for. But a boy. Small. Vulnerable. Alone in a house far too big to ever feel like a home. I closed my eyes and tried to see it through his eyes. The endless halls. The echoing silence. The weight of expectation pressing down on him from every direction. The presence of a father who ruled more than he loved. The presence of siblings who felt more like friends than siblings. My chest tightened painfully. “I’m losing my mind,” I murmured. “What am I even doing?” The sound of wheels rolling over stone snapped me out of it. My eyes flew open just in time to see Roman being wheeled toward the manor doors, his still form surrounded by medical staff and flanked by armed guards. The General walked ahead of them, posture straight, expression blank. Panic surged through me. “Wait—” I said, already moving. I took off after them, practically jogging as I tried to keep up with the General and his small army of men. Seriously—why did one man need this many armed guards? There were scary-looking soldiers positioned everywhere I looked in the manor. Scattered everywhere, standing at attention like statues, weapons visible and ready. It was unsettling. No—it was terrifying.I shoved the thought aside and focused on Roman. The General hadn’t even told me where they were taking him. “Where exactly are you taking him?” I asked, falling into step beside him. He didn’t slow. Didn’t turn. Didn’t acknowledge me at all. I clenched my jaw and glanced around as we crossed the threshold into the manor. My breath caught. The interior was even more extravagant than the outside. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling of the grand foyer, glittering with so many crystals it looked like a galaxy frozen in place. The foyer was easily the size of my entire apartment—maybe even bigger. The marble floors beneath our feet shone so brightly they reflected everything above them, spotless to a degree that felt almost obsessive. How often did the servants scrub these floors? Daily? Hourly? “I asked you a question,” I said sharply, irritation bleeding into my voice. Nothing. He didn’t even glance in my direction this time. The medical staff exchanged awkward looks, and heat crept up my neck. I hated that. I hated feeling dismissed. Invisible. We began ascending a massive staircase that split into two sweeping sides, each step wide and grand. Left alone, I would’ve gotten lost in minutes. But everyone else moved with ease, like they knew this place by heart. Like it owned them. The hallway we entered next stretched endlessly ahead of us, wide and imposing. Servants stood along the walls, heads bowed, eyes firmly fixed on the floor. Not a single one looked up—not at me, not at the General. The air felt heavy. What happens if they do look up? I wondered darkly. What’s the punishment? Portraits lined the walls—men and women painted in oil, all sharp cheekbones, black hair and cold eyes, dressed in finery that screamed old money. Generations of power stared down at us, judging silently. I didn’t look at them for long. I couldn’t. My legs began to ache as we continued walking. The distance felt ridiculous. My breathing grew shallow, my patience fraying with every step.This journey—this unending march through luxury and control—was starting to grate on my nerves. “Aren’t we there yet?” I snapped, unable to stop myself. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the General slowed just enough to glance at me, his expression flat. “You asked to come along, Miss Hart,” he said coolly. “Now you will endure the journey.” My hands curled into fists. Fine. I ignored him completely after that. And oddly enough, it gave me a small, petty sense of satisfaction. Finally—finally—we stopped in front of a set of double doors. “Fucking finally,” I muttered under my breath. The doors opened, and Roman was wheeled inside immediately. The room beyond looked less like a bedroom and more like a private hospital suite. Machines lined the walls, screens flickering with steady rhythms, equipment far more advanced than anything I’d seen back in New Hope.Even without medical knowledge, I could tell—this was the best of the best. Everything Roman could possibly need was here. They carefully transferred him to the bed, their movements practiced and gentle. I stood frozen, watching as wires and tubes were connected, as machines hummed softly to life. Seeing him like that—it hurt in a way I wasn’t prepared for. He looked peaceful. Too peaceful. As if he were just sleeping. As if he might wake up any second and ask why I looked like I’d seen a ghost. Then he'd hug me and slowly rub my back whispering comforting words. My chest ached. My throat burned. “I still can’t believe this,” I whispered to myself. The General’s voice cut through the room. “You will be staying in the room next door. The servants have prepared it.” I nodded stiffly. “Thank you.” He studied me for a brief moment with something flickering in his eyes, then turned and walked away. His men followed immediately, boots echoing against the marble until they disappeared down the hall. The room felt strangely empty without them.It was just me… and Roman… and the steady beeping of machines. Then a thought struck me. “Where is everyone?” I asked aloud before I could stop myself. “I didn’t see anyone else. Just the servants.” The General paused. He glanced down at the gold watch on his wrist, then looked at me from the corner of his eye. “Dinner is in an hour, Miss Hart,” he said calmly. “Don’t be late.” And then he was gone. Leaving me alone in a house full of ghosts.