Chapter 210: I Am His Uncle

Chapter 210: I Am His Uncle

Lizzie

“Stop right there.”

Roman’s voice cut across the grounds. The pistol came up, not aimed at Randall this time but at Rosalie, who had already taken two frantic steps toward her beloved brother’s crumpled body.

She froze. Her eyes locked on the weapon. Both hands lifted, slow and shaking. “You’re going to shoot me? Roman, I’m your sister. Randy is your brother—”

Roman fired once into the air.

The shot ripped the morning open. Everyone ducked. Hands flew to ears. Birds exploded out of the nearest trees.

Rosalie scrambled backward so fast her feet tangled and she went down hard on the gravel, palms scraping, breath punched out of her in a startled cry.

Guards poured from the edges of the property at the sound. Hudson appeared from the direction of his separate house at a run, already reading the scene and calculating whether this was a moment for intervention or not.

Roman did not look particularly interested in either option.

“You might want to reconsider playing the hero today, Hudson.” His tone was almost conversational. “I’m in a generous mood with the trigger this morning. You would not enjoy the demonstration.”

He kicked the car door shut with his heel just as the rest of the family spilled out onto the steps. Faces, shock, blood still drying on Reese’s knuckles.

Everyone was watching now.

Everyone except Reginald, who arrived last and stood as if the chaos were a mildly inconvenient change in weather.

Footsteps approached from the left path, softer than the rest of the noise.

It was Sav.

She came into view with both twins in her arms, moving with the careful balance of a woman who had already decided the car was no place for what her husband intended to do.

Miles and Andie wore oversized fluffy headphones over their ears and pacifiers in their mouths, two small, oblivious moons against Sav's chest. The sight of them in the middle of blood and this chaos made the whole morning feel even more horrific.

“Sav!” I started toward her. “How did you get here? Did you walk?”

She smiled, tired and sharp at the same time. “I knew he was going to do something crazy. I would rather not have my children watch it. I asked him to let us out back there.” She jerked her chin toward the curve of the drive.

“The twins!” River’s voice lifted, bright despite the crutches and the wreckage. “Ramsey—look!”

Reese took one last look at Roman, who was already closing the distance to Randall with that same unhurried purpose, then turned toward Sav. I followed him.

Sav pulled me into a hug so tight I felt the firm swell of her belly press against me. Somehow, it made me uncomfortable. Like a reminder.

“Someone looks happy,” she murmured, a real laugh tucked under the words. “You look amazing, Lizzie.”

“I’d be offended if I didn’t,” I said, and for one fractured second the joke held.

Then she looked at Reese—at the blood on his shirt, the split across his knuckles, the wild leftover heat still sitting in his eyes—and shook her head.

“Look at you. All painted. You’re just like your brother.”

Reese laughed, the sound rough, and folded her into a brief, careful hug that avoided the babies. “He didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“Someone has to keep the lunatic on a leash.” She glanced at Randall for less than a second, the way a person glances at something they refuse to give power. “Seems you already had your share of the fun.”

“You can say that.” Reese’s mouth twitched. He reached out and gently tugged Miles’s cheek with one finger. “Hey, little man. We meet again.”

Alex stepped in next. He and Sav embraced quickly, then he lifted Andrea from her arm with a reverence that almost did not belong to this morning. “I’m calling dibs. She’s perfect.”

Ramsey hovered at the edge of the cluster until Sav turned and pulled him in.

His whole body went rigid at the contact. She did not let go. After a few seconds the tension in his shoulders eased and a small, stunned smile appeared. But he kept his arms by his sides.

“You’re even more beautiful now, ma’am Savannah. Not that you weren't beautiful before,” he said, earnest as ever. “Your hair. It’s longer.”

Sav shifted Miles on her hip and touched the French braid falling over her shoulder. “I actually had it trimmed. Guess I got scammed.” She joked.

“No. It’s so pretty. You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you.” She read the hunger in his face before he could hide it and held Miles out. “Want to hold him? You’re his uncle.”

Ramsey’s eyes went wide. He wiped his palms down his thighs twice. “Really? Can I?”

“Why not?”

She settled the baby into his arms. Ramsey held him as if the child were made of glass and light. Miles, against all odds, relaxed immediately, pacifier working, one chubby hand fisting the front of Ramsey’s shirt.

“Uncle,” Ramsey whispered, testing the word. “I am his uncle.” He said it again, quieter, like he needed to hear it exist in the air before he could even believe it.

Sav moved to River next, concern overtaking everything else the moment she saw the crutches. “Oh my God—what happened to you?”

“I fell. Twisted my ankle.”

Sav’s hand came up to River’s cheek, gentle. “I’m sorry, darling. Does it still hurt?”

“Not as much. It hurts more because I can’t hold the babies.”

Sav’s smile didn’t dim. “Says who—”

“Hi.” Lauren materialized at Sav’s elbow with a brightness that felt like a stain. “I’m Lauren.” She offered her hand.

The sight of it made something ugly twist in my stomach.

Sav’s composure held. She shook the offered hand with polite precision. “Savannah—”

“No need. I know who you are. I’ve heard so much. It’s an honor.”

“Nice.” Sav’s smile tightened. She withdrew her hand as if the contact had a half-life she did not want to extend. I had to resist the urge to drag her to a sink and scrub the touch off.

Then Sav turned, and found Reginald already watching her.

The look he gave her was not curiosity. It was an assessment. Cold, lingering, and entirely without welcome.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” His voice carried easily across the gravel. “If I remember correctly, you swore never to set foot on this soil again.”

Sav did not flinch. “That was before your son decided his hobby was filming his brothers’ wives without their consent.” Her smile was thin and actually bright. “Though I suppose that wouldn’t surprise you. He’s probably just following your instructions.”

A groan from the ground pulled every head back to the present.

Randall was still down, writhing, one arm curled around his ribs. Roman stood over him with a foot planted on his chest and the pistol angled down as if the morning had always been heading here.

“Looks like Reese already had the first course,” Roman said.

Reese started toward them. Sav and I followed.

Roman’s voice climbed without ever becoming sloppy. “You had the audacity to sit there for years and use my wife like your private entertainment? You put cameras in our rooms. You watched her. Tell me why you think you get to see another sunrise.”

“Roman.” Sav moved closer, one hand lifting. “You promised. Don’t.”