“What are you doing, darling?” she murmured, startled, her voice barely above a whisper.
Harrison didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
She kept her head down, mumbling, “It’s nothing…”
The next moment, his long, elegant fingers caught her chin, forcing her to look up. Anastasia found herself staring straight into the depths of his dark eyes.
“Ana, you’re upset.” He studied her closely. Maybe she didn’t realize it, but no matter how hard she tried to hide it, her lips were pulled into a pout, her whole face spelling out wounded.
“Tell me—what happened? Who hurt you?”
His voice carried an unmistakable chill.
Moments ago, her mood was still manageable. But his gentle concern broke down the last of her defenses; the wall she’d built around her feelings crumbled, and all the sorrow she’d kept locked away came flooding out.
“Sob… darling…” She turned and threw her arms around him, clinging tight as tears soaked through his expensive shirt.
Her tears, hot and unrelenting, seemed to burn right through the fabric, sinking into his skin and searing his heart.
In that instant, fury stormed in his eyes—he wanted nothing more than to make whoever had done this pay, right now.
“No one hurt me. It’s my own fault…” Anastasia buried her face against his chest, her voice hoarse and broken.
“When Mom left, she told me to listen to Grandpa and Uncle. But I didn’t. I let Nora get in my head, and I pushed away the people who loved me most…”
She knew her mother’s side of the family wanted nothing to do with her now. They wouldn’t even see her, and she couldn’t blame them—she didn’t have the right to. It was her own stupidity, step by step, that had driven them away, left them cold and disappointed.
“I’ve ruined everything. I’m so stupid. If Mom knew, she’d be so disappointed in me.”
She nodded twice, quick and eager. Her moods always came and went in a flash. The hurt still lingered, but not too deeply; she’d been given another chance at life, and this time, she was determined to change her fate. No sense dwelling on the past. She’d just been overthinking it, that was all.
With her spirits lifted, she started making plans in her head—figuring out how to help Benson finally see through Penelope’s lies.
The next day was the weekend, so she didn’t bother going back to the apartment that night.
The following morning, as Anastasia was about to head out, she nearly ran straight into Logan, who was just coming in from outside.
Logan hesitated, looking as though he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.
Anastasia frowned slightly. “Is something wrong?”
Logan hesitated for another moment, then finally spoke: “Mr. Brennan is getting engaged to Penelope. Does Mrs. Brennan know about this?”
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