Roman

"Oh, and Savannah—" Chloe's voice rose above the chatter, bright and fake-sweet. "Come up here. You should be right beside me for this."

The crowd shifted, all eyes snapping to Savannah. I didn't miss the knowing smirks. Everyone knew there was history here—Chloe was counting on it. Savannah's back was straight, her chin tilted high as though she'd rather walk through fire than show weakness.

Chloe slid an arm around her sister, pulling her in close. She cleared her throat into the mic, then turned to her fiancé. Dean looked out of place—posture slumped, clutching a glass of wine like a lifeline. She blew him a kiss; he didn't even blow one back.

"Good evening, everyone," Chloe began. "Thank you so much for being here. And since we're already celebrating, I thought—why not make it extra special?"

I kept my face blank, but inside, I was pure tension.

"I have a little announcement," Chloe continued. "Especially to my fiancé... I'm pregnant."

The words dropped like a grenade. For a heartbeat, silence reigned—thick and suffocating. Then the applause erupted. But I only saw two things.

First, Dean. He froze, his knuckles whitening around his glass, eyes vacant. He wasn't celebrating; he looked gut-punched.

Second, Savannah. She was white as a ghost, carved from ice. She and Dean locked eyes—a single glance stretched into a silent, sharp exchange. Something unspoken passed between them.

What the hell is going on?

"Oh, and one more thing," Chloe said sweetly. "Savannah, we want you to be our child's godmother. Will you?"

The crowd gasped. The cruelty in the room was thick as perfume. Chloe shoved the mic into Savannah's hands.

Savannah tapped the mic, her voice steady but low. "Hello... I'd like to say congratulations on the baby. I wish you both a happy life. Thank you."

Simple. Dignified. Gracious.

Chloe squealed theatrically, hugging her stiff sister. Savannah leaned in and whispered something into Chloe's ear. Whatever it was, Chloe's smile faltered for the barest second.

I pushed through the crowd. "Hey," I murmured. "You okay?"

Her arms folded across herself. "Yeah... I'm fine."

I stripped off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders. "Come on. Let's go."

We steered toward the exit. Halfway there, I looked back. My gaze collided with Chloe's. Her eyes were locked on us—on Savannah under my jacket. It wasn't jealousy; it was a threat.

Dean still hadn't moved. He was frozen, eyes glazed.

Outside, the night air hit cool and sharp. I opened the car door for her. She sank into the seat, the weight of the night crashing down.

"Thank you," she said, her voice small.

As I slid in beside her, I couldn't shake the image of Dean's face and Chloe's venomous smile. Something was unraveling here—something bigger than a staged humiliation. And I was going to find out what it was before it swallowed Savannah whole.