Revenge is My Love Language novel Chapter 8

She hurried to the doorway next door and nearly collided with Logan, who had just been thrown out, and a servant clutching a first-aid kit.

The servant looked pale and wouldn’t even consider going back in.

Anastasia sighed and reached out her hand. “Give it to me.”

Logan looked surprised, gently reminding her, “Ma’am, Mr. Lancaster… he’s not in the best mood right now.”

“I know,” Anastasia replied.

Precisely because she knew, she felt anxious—she needed to go in. She was deeply worried about him.

Logan hesitated for a moment, then, recalling how Harrison treated her differently, turned to the servant. “Give it to her.”

Anastasia pushed open the door and slipped inside. The room was dark.

“Get out!” The man’s voice, sharp and simmering with anger, came from somewhere ahead.

By the faint light spilling through the window, she could just make out a tall figure sitting in a wheelchair, his back to her. He looked utterly exhausted, cloaked in a kind of heavy, hopeless gloom—like an old man on the brink of the grave.

Her heart clenched painfully in her chest.

He was only twenty-seven.

Was this what he was like in her previous life, too? Drowning in hopelessness day after day? But back then, all she’d cared about was escaping him—she’d never spared a single thought for how he felt. Not even once.

Slowly, she walked toward him.

As her footsteps drew near, Harrison lashed out without warning.

“I said get—!”

His grip on her wrist was so tight she thought he’d snap the bone. Anastasia gasped in pain.

But the moment he realized it was her, his hold loosened abruptly.

“Out,” he barked, voice steely.

In the dim light, she could see the rigid line of his jaw, the striking cut of his profile, but not his expression—only the anger radiating from him.

“Logan said you weren’t doing well,” Anastasia said softly, her voice gentling. “I was worried about you.”

She was relieved—she could treat Harrison’s illness. With her here, there was no way he’d die before thirty, as all those famous doctors had predicted.

But she was frustrated too—she didn’t have the key medicine. It would be months before it was produced at the Green Thumbs Botanical Research Institute, the legacy her mother had left behind.

And the institute wasn’t even under her control; it was in her grandfather’s hands.

Thinking of her grandfather’s family, her expression darkened.

“Mr. Lancaster? Mrs. Lancaster?” Logan’s voice came tentatively through the door, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“What is it?” she called back, her tone steady and strong.

Logan, who’d been ready to break down the door, paused, his hand hovering at the handle. He looked both baffled and relieved.

They were all right?

After hearing nothing for so long, he’d half expected disaster. For Mr. Lancaster to not be angry—that was nothing short of miraculous.

Back in the room, Anastasia let go of his hand and asked gently, “Can I turn on the light and change your bandages?”