Revenge is My Love Language novel Chapter 213

He didn’t say another word.

The drive back to the apartment was silent, but Anastasia’s nerves hadn’t settled. She kept replaying everything in her mind, trying to figure out what had happened. Was it just because of what happened at the hotel? But there was nothing between her and Samuel—Harrison had seen that for himself, hadn’t he? So why was he still acting so strange?

When they got out of the car, she clung to him, refusing to let go. In a muffled voice, she said, “Carry me inside, hubby.”

Harrison didn’t reply right away. After a couple of seconds, he scooped her up just as she wanted.

His steps were steady as he carried her home.

Anastasia’s anxiety eased a little. She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, nuzzling close, unwilling to let go.

After that, Harrison didn’t show any other signs of oddness.

But around eleven, he went downstairs alone. He stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows for a long time, scattering cigarette butts on the balcony before finally turning to Logan and saying, “Get rid of that recording.”

Logan looked up in shock. “Mr. Lancaster…?”

He understood exactly what Harrison meant—he wanted the recording destroyed, as if it had never existed.

Logan was stunned. He’d witnessed Harrison’s rage when he first heard the audio, saw his cold determination as he rushed to the hotel. He’d even worried for Anastasia, fearing what Harrison might do.

Never in his wildest dreams did he expect Harrison to restrain himself—let alone erase the evidence.

Harrison Lancaster had never tolerated betrayal. Yet this time, he was choosing to let it go?

“Do it,” Harrison ordered, offering no explanation. He turned and headed back to his study.

Logan could hardly believe it—as much for Harrison as for himself.

On the way to the hotel, he’d been sure Harrison would show no mercy, would make that girl pay for betraying him. But when she clung to Harrison, all Logan saw was how much Harrison couldn’t bear to hurt her.

As Harrison’s figure disappeared upstairs, Logan was about to leave when a slender silhouette appeared from the shadows by the staircase.

In a flash, she remembered: before she’d come back to this life, she’d been furious when she’d learned she was to marry Harrison. Otherwise, she never would’ve tried to run off with Aaron Lancaster. Back then, she’d said all kinds of things—both to Aaron and to Penelope. This recording was probably made by one of them, secretly.

All at once, she understood why Harrison had acted the way he did.

She gripped her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white, furious with herself for leaving such a weapon behind. If only she’d come back sooner, she could’ve avoided this.

But her own embarrassment was secondary. What tore at her was the thought of what Harrison must have felt hearing that recording.

He’d spent so long alone just now, making up his mind to destroy the evidence and “forgive” her—how must that have felt for him?

He knew how dangerous smoking was—he hadn’t touched a cigarette since his illness. Yet tonight, he’d smoked so many, he must have been in agony.

Anastasia’s chest ached as if it were being torn apart.

She took a shaky breath, blinked back tears, and turned to Logan. “Help me with something.”