Live Well, Roman

Live Well, Roman
Chapter 294: Live Well, Roman 
Roman 

I didn’t remember deciding to hit him. But that was exactly what I'd done. 

One moment the world was spinning in a haze of fury and disbelief, and the next my fist was already moving— cutting through the air with violent force until bone met bone.

The crack echoed sharply through the office. 

My father staggered backward a step, surprise flickering across his face for the briefest moment. Blood immediately welled at the corner of his lip. 

Hudson moved forward at once, instinctively positioning himself between us.

But my father lifted a hand. “No. Do not interfere, Hudson.” His voice was steady. Too steady. As though the blow had been nothing more than an inconvenience.

Blood traced a thin line down his chin as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His composure did more damage than any retaliation could have.

My entire body trembled, rage vibrating beneath my skin like a live wire.

“You’ve got some nerve,” I said, my voice shaking with a fury I could no longer contain. “You dare stand before me and tell me to my face that you’ll murder my child if she’s a girl?! Aren't you scared I might just snap your fucking neck?!”

He didn’t even flinch.

“You cannot escape reality, Roman,” he replied calmly. “I do not expect you to understand the burden of such a heavy decision. You are the father. Your emotions will cloud your judgment.”

“Difficult decisions?” I barked out a harsh laugh. “Don’t you dare dress murder up as responsibility.”

I took a step closer, pointing at him with a hand that would not stop shaking.

“This is your final warning, Reginald. Touch my wife. Touch my child. And I swear I will bury you alive. I'm not bluffing. You've got enough ground. Pick a spot.” 

The words came from somewhere primal, something ancient and protective rising from deep within me.

Disgust rolled through me as I looked at him — truly looked at him — and for the millionth time in my life, I felt nothing resembling respect. Nothing resembling fear. All I felt was disgust. 

“You need help,” I continued, my voice quieter but sharper. “You’re sick. You’re beyond redemption. I can’t believe I ever looked up to you.”

“As you should have,” he replied without hesitation. “A son ought to take pride in his father.” The certainty in his voice made my stomach churn.

I stepped back slowly, shaking my head. “You’re insane.”

“Is that what you must believe to endure this moment?” he asked mildly.

I drew in a slow breath, steadying myself. Then I spoke with clarity. “I’m only going to say this once.”

He watched me, silent, waiting.

“I am taking my wife and we are leaving this place,” I said. “In a month's time, we will attend our next appointment. We will hear our child’s heartbeat. And when the time comes, Savannah will give birth to our baby—far away from this house, far away from you.”

I moved forward until there was barely any space left between us, ensuring he could not mistake my meaning.

“You will not touch them. You will not come near them. And you will not hide behind your twisted version of protection.”

“You are endangering your life—”

“No,” I cut in firmly. “You don’t scare me. Not anymore. You cannot harm my family. Not while I’m still standing.” I took another step back, a bitter realization settling into place. “I understand you now,” I said quietly.

He remained still.

“You know Savannah wants out of this nightmare,” I continued. “You know she’s ready to leave. That’s why you suddenly decided to talk. That’s why you finally revealed all of this after years of silence.”

I let out a dry laugh.

“You’re trying to keep me rooted here and running round in circles. To keep me chasing Dahlia’s ghost. You intend for me to keep going down that rabbit hole. You want Savannah gone. You want her vulnerable and alone. You want her carrying our child without me beside her.”

I smiled. 

“You want us apart so you can carry out your evil plan on her and my child while I'm stuck here, chasing after ghosts.” 

A faint smile ghosted across his lips. “So,” he said, “you are no longer interested in the recordings?”

I shook my head slowly. “No. You can keep them. One day I’ll burn this house to the ground with you inside it. Those tapes too. I’ll reduce all of it to ash.”

His expression did not change. “I will be waiting for that day.” The calmness in his acceptance unsettled me more than resistance would have.

I nodded once. “Stay away from my family. Or the world will wake up one morning to something very interesting online.”

I pulled my phone from the waistband at my back. His gaze shifted to it immediately. Understanding flickered in his eyes.

The recording screen glowed faintly.

Ryan’s voice broke in, stunned. “You were recording this entire time?”

I shrugged. “Old tricks still work.” Then I laughed—a harsh, mocking sound. “Turns out, you’re both fools.”

“You think so?” my father asked calmly.

His composure gnawed at me. I wanted fear. I wanted trembling. I wanted rage. I wanted to see even a crack in that impenetrable control.

But he gave me nothing.

And somehow that made the victory feel incomplete. Still… time had a way of settling debts.

“What do you plan to do with it?” he asked. “Expose us? Destroy our name?”

“There’s one way to find out,” I said. “Touch my family and you’ll learn exactly what I’m willing to do.”

“Well played, Roman.” He clapped slowly, mock applause echoing in the room.

Revulsion crawled across my skin. “I will protect the people I love,” I said.

He turned toward the window, gazing out over the sprawling grounds of the manor as though nothing of consequence had occurred.

“Live well, Roman,” he said quietly. “I hope you do not return seeking shelter when consequences arrive.”

I stared at his back, memorizing the silhouette of the man I no longer recognized as my father.

Then I turned toward the door.

But before leaving, I pivoted sharply — catching Ryan completely off guard — and drove my fist into his jaw with all the anger I had left.

He stumbled, shock flashing across his face.

“I hope I never see you again,” I said coldly. “Piece of shit.” 

Then I threw the doors open and walked out without looking back. There was only one place left to go.

Savannah.

\~~~

I moved through the hallways with purpose, my steps echoing off marble floors that suddenly felt like part of a mausoleum rather than a home.

This place was a graveyard. And I was done burying pieces of myself and my happiness within it.

I stopped outside River’s bedroom door and pushed it open without knocking. She was there.

Savannah lay curled on the bed in a fragile, protective shape— as though trying to make herself smaller against a world that had grown too heavy. River sat beside her, gently stroking her hair, her expression soft with concern.

When the door opened, Savannah lifted her head.

Her eyes were swollen, red from tears. The sight struck something deep in my chest—something fierce and aching and protective all at once.

“Roman,” she whispered, as if she wasn’t certain I was real.

I crossed the room and extended my hand toward her. “Let’s go, my love.”

She blinked, startled. “Go where?”

I held her gaze. “Home, baby. We’re leaving here for good.”