Miss Valentine
Chapter 247: Miss Valentine
Reese
If there was one thing I knew for certain, it was this.
My father never did anything without a reason.
Not kindness. Not mercy. Not patience.
Reginald Blackwood didn’t just wake up one morning and decide to be generous. He didn’t suddenly soften with age, nor did he ever extend olive branches without a blade hidden in the leaves.
So if Savannah was allowed to stay here—
If she was permitted under this roof, breathing the same air as him—then something was coming.
I just didn’t know what yet. And that was the worst part. Because when my father plotted, the danger wasn’t always immediate. Sometimes it took days. Sometimes weeks. He liked watching people settle, liked letting them believe they were safe before pulling the ground out from under them.
No one ever saw it coming.
Savannah emerged from the bathroom a few moments later, and despite everything weighing on my mind, I couldn’t help noticing her.
The clothes fit perfectly—River’s, apparently—and that alone surprised me. A simple shirt and sweatpants outfit, understated, modest, but it suited her in a way that felt effortless. Like she belonged anywhere she stood, even here. Especially here.
She adjusted her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear, then folded her arms loosely over her chest.
“Your father mentioned dinner,” she said. Her voice was calm, but I could hear the uncertainty beneath it. “I don’t know… what should I expect? How many people will be there? Is it everyone?”
“Everyone,” I confirmed.
She let out a quiet breath and sat beside me on the bed, shoulders slumping slightly. “Oh boy. Dinner from hell.”
I huffed a small laugh, though there was no humor in it for me. I’d survived more of those dinners than I could count, some of them are battlefields disguised by fine china and silverware.
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, Savannah,” I said seriously. “I hope you know that.”
She nodded. “I know.”
Then she paused, eyes fixed on some invisible point in front of her.
“But I want to be there,” she added. “I’m going to have to face them sooner or later anyway. Why not now?”
I studied her profile for a moment.
There was resolve there. Not bravado. Not recklessness. Just acceptance. The kind that came from knowing you couldn’t outrun something forever.
I shrugged. “Your choice.”
Silence settled between us for a few seconds. Then she spoke again.
“Ramsey mentioned something to me earlier.”
My shoulders stiffened. “About what?”
She shifted slightly, clearly choosing her words. “Someone’s been slandering me. Saying horrible, untrue things about me to your siblings. Things meant to make them hate me without even knowing me.”
That didn’t surprise me. What surprised me was how calm she sounded saying it.
“That’s unfair,” she continued, her voice tightening now. “And honestly… I’m curious. Why would someone do that? Someone I don’t even know?”
I dragged a hand through my hair and exhaled slowly. “Savanah,” I said, already tired, “one thing you need to understand about this family is that people talk. Constantly. Gossip is currency here. If someone doesn’t have facts, they make them up. You’d need skin thicker than armor to survive under this roof.”
She turned to look at me, eyes sharp. “So you’re saying I should just let it go?”
“In my opinion?” I nodded. “Yes. You don’t even know this person. Giving them power by caring—”
“Exactly,” she cut in. “I don’t know this person. And yet they felt entitled to tear me apart behind my back.” Her jaw clenched. “Whoever this Miss Valentine is—”
The name hit me like a slap.
“What did you say?” I asked sharply.
She blinked. “Miss Valentine. Ramsey said she was the one who started the rumors. Whoever she is.”
My heartbeat slowed. Then everything clicked.
“When you say Miss Valentine like that,” I said slowly, “it sends a message that you don't know that's Penelope.”
Her brows furrowed. “What?” She stood abruptly. “What do you mean? What are you saying?”
“Penelope’s last name is Valentine,” I said, watching realization creep across her face. “So if Ramsey mentioned a Miss Valentine, we’re definitely talking about the same person.”
Savannah stared at me, stunned.
“I wouldn’t put it past her,” I continued. “You might not have noticed it, but Penelope is extremely possessive with everything. Especially when it bears the name Blackwood. You're her enemy because Roman would pick you over her in a heartbeat. And she hates that.”
Her lips parted. “Wait… you mean Penny was the one spreading those lies about me?”
I cracked my neck, tension pulling tight. “Yes. I'm certain that Penelope and Miss Valentine are one and the same.”
She looked like the world had shifted beneath her feet.
“I mean, you can always confirm it with Ramsey. He isn't going to lie to you.” I added. “But there are only two women we know in this family with that last name.”
“And?” she asked faintly.
“Penelope and her twin sister, Dahlia. They do have a brother though but he's obviously not important to mention now since we're talking about a woman here. And Dahlia is dead. She's been out of the picture for years. That leaves us with just Penny.” I scoffed. “And honestly? I’m not surprised. That woman is vicious. She's crazy.”
Savannah didn’t move. She just stood there, processing.
“Don’t look so shocked,” I said quietly. “Penelope could never see you as anything other than competition. Rivalry is all she understands.”
She finally turned to me.
I softened my tone. “The sooner you accept that, the easier this place becomes. Do you understand?”
She nodded slowly.
Then she ran her palms down her thighs, grounding herself, and whispered, “I want to see Roman. Before dinner. I want to be with him.”
That, at least, I understood.
I stood. “Let’s go.”
And as we stepped out into the hallway, I couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight, dinner wasn’t the only thing waiting to explode.