"Should I go further?" Roman asked, his voice measured, almost as though he was afraid of where the conversation would lead.

I nodded, though my throat felt dry. My puIse hammered against my ribs, warning me that whatever came next would tear open wounds I had spent years healing.

"What could my father have possibly told you?" I whispered, though the weight in my chest told me I already knew.

Roman's gaze didn't waver when his words dropped like stones into the silence.

"Your father told me he had to step down from his position after you got pregnant for your sister's dance teacher's husband."

For a split second, my entire body shut down. My heart fell, my lungs seized, and I was sure my knees would buckle beneath me with how everywhere spun. Hearing him say it so plainly, so coldly, was like being gutted with a blade I'd long forgotten still existed.

"He's lying." My voice cracked, but I forced it louder. "That's not how it happened."

Roman's expression remained unreadable, though his brow furrowed slightly.

"Asher was my professor," I continued, my words spilling out in a rush. "Before Chloe ever booked Monica as her ballet instructor. Whatever happened between Asher and I... it was before Monica even stepped into the picture."

He tilted his head, studying me with unsettling calm. "Monica is the wife?"

I nodded tightly. "Yes. And she hates me more than anyone else in this world."

"And your sister...?"

I rolled my eyes, bitterness coating every syllable. "She knew about Asher and me. That's exactly why she hired Monica, his wife. It wasn't about dance classes. It was about making me squirm, watching me unravel.She wanted to twist the knife until I bled out in front of everyone. And thanks to her, everything blew up."

As soon as the words left my mouth, regret exploded in my stomach.I sounded defensive. Shameless. Like a girl who made excuses for wreckage she herself had caused. Now Roman probably thought I was nothing more than a brazen little whore.

But he only leaned back, his jaw ticking. "It really seems like your sister doesn't pass up an opportunity to show her dislike for you."

"Chloe's always been that way," I muttered. "She wants everything I have and yet still claims I envy her life. As if that makes any sense.I wouldn't touch whatever she's had her paws on with a ten-inch pole."

Roman's next question cut sharper than the last.

"What happened to the baby, Savannah?"

I froze.

The room tilted, and memóries came flooding back, violent as a storm.The antiseptic stench of a hospital. My father's stern voice, final and

unyielding. The crushing weight of helplessness pressing against my chest until I thought I'd suffocate.

My hand drifted unconsciously to my stomach. My eyes burned as mist clouded my vision.

"Dad... had it removed."

The words felt like shrapnel lodged in my throat. Saying them out loud was like detonating a bomb in the middle of the room, then silence dropped over us like a weight.

Roman's voice softened. "With your consent?"

I shook my head violently, tears spilling despite my desperate attempt to hold them back. "No. I didn't want it removed. I begged him, Roman.But he didn't give me a choice." My chest heaved as I swiped furiously at the tears running down my cheeks. I hated myself for being so weak, for letting it still hurt after all these years. "Looking back, maybe he was right.Maybe what he did was for the best."

Roman took a step toward me, but I cut him off, voice trembling. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

I rose abruptly and rubbed my palms against my thighs as though I could scrub away the memory. I turned toward the window, clutching the sill as if it could steady me. My reflection in the glass looked pale, haunted,like a ghost of a girl I once was.

Behind me, I heard the soft pad of Roman's footsteps crossing the room. Then his warmth enveloped me from behind, strong arms wrapping around my waist. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his breath fanning against my neck.

"Your hair always smells so good," he rasped,his voice gravelly,his chest pressing firm against my back. He inhaled deeply, as though grounding himself in me.

A shiver ran down my spine. I tried to shrug him off, panic flaring."Roman,stop.Please."

"Why?" he murmured, his grip tightening slightly, not forceful but stubborn.

"Because I can't even look at you right now." My voice cracked. "Don't you get it? I'm filthy. I'm a horrible person. I ruin lives and destroy families-my own included. And I make jokes to cope with it, because otherwise I'd drown in a pool of my own blood!" My words tumbled out one after the other in a jagged rush, my chest heaving.

His reply was quiet, almost a whisper. "Really? Then I guess I'm rotten."

I blinked, stunned. I twisted in his arms, searching his eyes. "What are you talking about? How can you possibly be rotten when you have your life so perfectly straightened out? You-" My voice broke into a humorless laugh. "I have more skeletons in my cupboard than a politician-"

But before I could finish, his mouth claimed mine.

The kiss startled me. My hands instinctively pressed against his chest,pushing lightly, resisting, not because I didn't want it, but because I was terrified of wanting it too much. I turned my head, trying to escape.

"Roman, don't," I whispered against his lips, trembling.

"Why?" he asked again, his breath ragged, his eyes dark and

unwavering.

"Didn't you hear everything I just said? Aren't you disgusted?"

"I heard it all." His voice was steady, unshaken. "And I don't care."

He kissed me again, slower this time, giving me a chance to pull away.My hands hovered against his chest, trembling... but I didn't push him back.

"I don't understand you," I whispered when I finally tore mny lips away,shaking my head in disbelief.

"You don't need to." His thumb brushed away a stray tear clinging to my cheek. His gaze burned into mine, raw and unyielding. "You just need to accept that I want you. And I don't care what came before."

His lips descended again, and this time, I didn't resist.