Revenge is My Love Language novel Chapter 177

Harrison sat there, expressionless, his face betraying nothing—no anger, no warmth. He faced her directly, a book resting idly in his hands, as if he’d been waiting for her all along.

“Uh—Honey!”

Anastasia stammered, snapping to attention, her hands tucked nervously behind her back. Guilt was written all over her.

His gaze was dark and unyielding, heavy as a mountain pressing down on her shoulders. He spoke just one word: “Come here.”

It was such a simple command, delivered in the calmest of tones, yet there was no mistaking the authority behind it.

“I just ran into something on the way, got a little sidetracked—didn’t mean to be late…” Anastasia tried to explain, her voice faltering as she edged closer to him, step by reluctant step.

She snuck a glance at his face, and seeing his expression wasn’t as cold as she feared, a thin sliver of relief slipped into her chest.

But before she could take another breath, a strong hand closed around her wrist.

The next instant—“Ah!”—she yelped as he pulled her off balance, sending her tumbling straight into his arms.

“Sidetracked?” His voice was icily calm from above. “Ana, have you already forgotten what I told you?”

She blinked, startled. “What… did you say?”

“So you really did forget.” His tone dropped, low and dangerous. He tipped her chin up, a little too forcefully.

The grip hurt. Anastasia winced, wanting to protest, but the words died on her lips when she met his cold, stormy eyes.

A wave of danger washed over her, freezing her in place.

“Sweetheart…?” she whispered.

“Ana,” he said, voice soft but razor-sharp, “I told you before—whatever you promise me, you need to remember. Because I take it seriously.” His eyes narrowed, dark with warning. “Breaking your word has consequences. Do you remember that?”

She was too scared to move. “I…”

…Hurt?

The word almost sounded ridiculous to Harrison—until he looked down and saw her eyes, wide and glistening, brimming with real guilt and something even deeper: care.

Her eyes were tinged red with unshed tears, and in them, he saw nothing but sincerity and… pain for him.

His hand tightened involuntarily. Somewhere inside, a corner of his heart—long frozen over—simply, silently, caved in.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart…” Anastasia whispered again. “I’ll make you something to eat right now!”

She slipped from his arms and darted into the kitchen.

Harrison remained where he was, the book still in his lap, unmoving for a long time.

In the kitchen, Anastasia rubbed at her eyes, scolding herself under her breath.