Revenge is My Love Language novel Chapter 7

The air in the room went suddenly still.

Logan nearly choked on his own spit.

Was Ms. Anastasia Sterling always this unpredictable? The way she stood her ground, even dragging Mary and May into the fray, he’d have bet money she’d keep pushing—yet here she was, switching tactics entirely. He shot Anastasia a sidelong glance, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Among everyone in the house, only Ms. Anastasia Sterling would dare breeze in and call Mr. Lancaster “Hubby” right to his face, especially when he looked as cold and unapproachable as he did now. All the previous Mrs. Lancasters had trembled just trying to speak to him.

Anastasia, meanwhile, thought to herself: With a man like Harrison on her side, why waste breath arguing with Mary?

She fluttered her eyelashes, her eyes bright and sweet as she tilted her head. “Hubby?”

Harrison’s gaze landed on her. His chiseled face was drawn tight, the lines of his jaw sharp, his whole presence radiating icy composure.

As the silence stretched, Anastasia started to fidget, nerves creeping in. Maybe she’d pushed too far. Well, it made sense—this wasn’t her last life after all.

Across the room, May couldn’t help but let a smirk slip.

Mr. Lancaster had been tolerant before, sure, but did Anastasia really think she was special? Given Mr. Lancaster’s temperament—

“You may come in.”

May’s face froze mid-smirk.

Anastasia’s eyes lit up. She broke into a dazzling smile, her voice bubbling with hope. “Does that mean I can come in anytime?”

“You’re my wife. You’re always welcome.”

The staff stared, stunned into silence.

Logan blinked. Was this for real? None of the previous wives had ever gotten that kind of privilege. Was this what double standards looked like in real life?

“Thank you, Hubby!” Anastasia practically skipped over and gave Harrison’s arm a quick, impulsive hug.

His body went rigid as a board. Misreading his reaction, Anastasia blushed and hurriedly let go.

“I’ll go upstairs and change,” she said softly.

Harrison glanced at her bathrobe, his tone cool as he turned to Mary. “You didn’t prepare clothes for my wife?”

After showing Anastasia special favor twice, Mary didn’t dare protest. She nodded quickly. “They’re ready, sir.”

He gave a curt nod, then added, “Prepare the guest room next to my bedroom for her.”

He didn’t bother asking which room Mary had arranged. He’d made the decision for Anastasia himself.

Mary’s face tightened. She wanted to protest—it was the room her own daughter, Alice, had wanted—but she swallowed the words.

“…Yes, sir.”

Anastasia looked even happier.

“I’m heading up, Hubby!” she called, her cheerful footsteps echoing up the stairs.

Harrison watched her go, unconsciously brushing the spot on his arm where she’d hugged him. He could still feel her lingering warmth.

“There won’t be a next time for mistakes like assigning the wrong room,” he said icily.

May went pale. “Yes, Mr. Lancaster…”

Upstairs, Anastasia realized she hadn’t explained herself. But thinking back, Harrison hadn’t seemed angry at all—hopefully, Penelope’s earlier accusations hadn’t left an impression.

Relieved, she exhaled softly.

With Harrison’s instructions, May swiftly brought up several sets of new clothes. “The guest room will take a little time to prepare, ma’am. Sorry for the wait.”

Anastasia smiled, unbothered. “That’s fine. I’m in no rush.”

[Alice, when are you coming back?]

Alice—Mary’s daughter.

Anastasia hadn’t been in the room long before a maid arrived to call her down for dinner.

It would be her first meal with Harrison since her rebirth. She was actually looking forward to it, hurrying downstairs—only to find the dining room empty.

“…Where’s Mr. Lancaster?”

“He’s out, ma’am.”

“Oh.” Disappointment flickered across Anastasia’s face.

With Harrison’s injury, he hardly went out unless it was truly important. She knew better than to pry.

She ate alone in silence, then returned to her room upstairs.

There was so much to think about, so much to organize—coming back to life wasn’t something she could take lightly.

Around nine that night, Harrison returned. Before Anastasia could step out, she heard a loud crash from the next room, followed by Harrison’s furious shout.

“Get out—!”

Her heart clenched. She rushed to the door.

She had many things to set right in this new life, but nothing was more important than Harrison’s illness.

The suffocating despair of fighting a doomed fate, forced step by step toward death—it was enough to drive anyone mad. Harrison always kept his pain locked away, but she knew all too well how close he was to breaking.

Anastasia hurried down the hall to his room.

If there was anything she’d gained during those wasted years being used by Aaron, it was a set of medical skills that just might save Harrison now.