Chapter 96 He Did It Again Roman’s bandaged hand was still warm beneath mine, his skin rough and trembling. I had only just finished tying the strip of gauze when he tore his hand away and seized my arm. Not violently though. Roman wouldn't hurt me. His grip wasn’t bruising, but only enough to pull me forward, drag me into the storm brewing in his eyes. “What the fuck did you just say?” His voice cracked like a whip, raw and venomous. His pupils were blown wide, the whites threaded with red. He looked less like a man and more like a beast cornered. I swallowed hard, but the words tumbled out before I could stop them. “A week after the first time… he did it again.” The air between us thickened. Roman’s chest rose and fell like a bellows. I forced myself to keep speaking, because if I stopped now, I’d never find the courage again. “He said it was punishment. Punishment for being a bad girl. He said if I told anyone, he’d come back for a third time. And he’d make sure it hurt worse. He said he’d ruin me.” I tried to laugh, the way I always did to cut tension, but the sound never came. Instead, a broken sob ripped through me, loud and ugly. My throat burned as the dam gave way, and I found myself still kneeling at his feet, sobbing into my hands like a child. “I begged him to stop,” I choked. “I told him it hurt. I told him it wasn’t right. But he didn’t stop. He just… didn’t stop. And I was so desperate for it to end that I apologized. I told him I was sorry. Sorry for smiling, sorry for baking those cookies, sorry for breathing. I told him I wouldn’t tell anyone if he’d just… stop.” Roman didn’t move. He didn’t reach for me like usual. He didn’t curse or scream. He was still—unnaturally still. A statue carved from fury and rage. The only sign of life was his voice, low and deadly cold. “And what happened afterwards?” The question sliced through me. I almost didn't believe that I'd heard him. I lifted my tear-streaked face. “Roman…” “Answer me, Savannah. What. Happened. Afterwards?” His tone left no room for escape. The pit of dread yawned open in my chest, and I tumbled straight into it. My lips trembled. My lungs felt too tight to hold air. But I still forced myself to say it. “That was when I found out I was pregnant.”The room tilted. The confession felt heavier than my body could carry. My knees pressed into the carpet, my fingernails dug crescents into my palms. “I don’t know which time it was,” I whispered. “But three weeks later, I was staring at a pregnancy test with two red lines.” ~~~~~ Flashback. The memory pulled me under. The bathroom smelled of bleach. The harsh white light flickered above me as I clutched the test strip, my hands shaking so hard I almost dropped it. Two red lines. Clear and bold. My entire world shattered before my eyes. Not only had he raped me, but he also got me pregnant. How unlucky could I get? Outside the window, I could hear the sound of a basketball thudding against the driveway. Uncle Jace’s deep laugh, Dad shouting something about a foul. Chloe’s high-pitched giggle carried from the porch. The normalcy of it all was a slap in itself. Inside, I was crumbling.I sat on the edge of the tub, staring until the lines blurred through my tears. My heart pounded with something sharp and strange—fear, yes, but also a twisted curiosity. A flicker of giddy hope. What would my baby look like? Would it have my eyes? My laugh? Would it look like me at all? I didn't care what the circumstances surrounding its conception was. It was half of me and I loved myself too much to hate any part of me. So I loved that part of myself too. I pressed the strip against my chest, clinging to it like a lifeline. I didn’t care who the father was. It was mine. A piece of me. Something I could love when no one else seemed to. Something I could call mine. My own little human. But the bathroom door creaked open. “Savannah?” My mother’s voice. And then—silence. When I turned, the test had slipped from my trembling fingers. It lay on the floor, glaring up at her. Her face hardened instantly. No warmth, no comfort. Just cold steel. She scooped it up with two fingers, like it was filth. And by dinner, everyone knew.~~~~~~~~~ Present… Back in the present, Roman’s face twisted, but he didn’t interrupt. His silence was worse than screaming. It forced me to keep going. “When Dad found out,” I said hoarsely, “I thought maybe he’d finally believe me. That the truth was too obvious to ignore. That he’d finally see I wasn’t lying. But he didn’t.” I laughed bitterly, tasting salt as it slid down my lips. “He slapped me across the face so hard I saw stars. Then he screamed those words at me: ‘Whose bastard are you carrying?’” ~~~~~ Flashback… The memory surged like fire. I was standing in the kitchen, clutching the test in my hand. My mother had already laid it on the counter like damning evidence. Dad stormed in, his face red, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack bone. “Is this true?” he barked.I nodded, timid, my eyes wet. “Yes. But Dad—” The sound came first. A crack like thunder. Then pain bloomed hot across my cheek. My head snapped sideways, my hair sticking to my lip gloss. “Whose bastard are you carrying?” he roared, spit flying. “My—my professor—” “Liar!” His palm came down again. My mother just stood there, arms folded, lips pressed in a thin line. The walls echoed with his rage, but the thing I remember most was Chloe’s face peeking from the doorway. Wide eyes, mouth open. She didn’t say a word. She just ran. ~~~~~ Present… Roman’s voice dragged me back. “And when you told him it was his friend’s?” “He didn’t believe me,” I whispered. “He said I must have slept with some boy at college. That I was trying to cover it up with Kingston’s name.” My chest heaved, my breaths shallow and ragged.“The only time he even considered believing me was when I threatened to go to the authorities. I told him I’d take a test, do whatever they needed. But Mom had already scrubbed me clean after each time, making sure there was nothing left to prove. She always followed Dad’s orders like scripture.” I closed my eyes, the images rushing in again. ~~~~~ Flashback… Chloe had told Monica. And Monica came storming into my room, fury etched into every line of her face. “You filthy little liar!” she shrieked. Her hand cracked across my face, stinging more than Dad’s slap because it came with betrayal. “I didn’t—” “How dare you spread lies about my husband?” she spat. “You think because you wear short skirts and smile, every man wants you? That you can destroy marriages for fun?” Tears streamed down my cheeks. “I swear I didn’t—” She cut me off, her voice like venom. “You seduced him, didn’t you? You wanted attention. And now you’re crying rape because he doesn’t want you anymore.” Her words branded themselves into my skin. I can still hear them. ~~~~~ Present… “They forced me to tell Alyssa it was all a lie,” I whispered to Roman now. “They forced me. Dad said if I wanted to stay in that house, I’d say it. So I told her Asher never touched me. That it was just an affair I was bitter about ending.” I pulled in a sharp breath, my chest caving. “And the baby?” Roman’s voice was cold enough to freeze bone. “Did she know?” “Dad had it… removed. And Alyssa knew as well.” The words scraped out of me. “But the damage has already been done.” There was silence. “Alyssa never forgave me for lying to her. She still believes it was an affair. That I was a homewrecker. Not a victim.” The weight of it all pressed down on me. Even after spilling every ugly truth, I couldn’t breathe. The elephant still sat heavy on my chest.I wiped my face with trembling hands, waiting for Roman’s rage to explode. But he didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just stared at me, his jaw tight, his knuckles white. Then, finally, he spoke. “What if you woke up tomorrow and your parents no longer exist?”