Chapter 181

"Susan!"

Andrew's pupils constricted as he watched Susan collapse limply.

He lunged forward, catching her in his arms, only then noticing her swollen ankle—puffy as a steamed bun.

Her lips were pressed into a bloodless line, but tears still welled uncontrollably in her eyes.

Andrew's chest tightened. He kept reminding himself—this woman was vicious, selfish, utterly undeserving of sympathy.

Yet the sight of those angry wounds on her hands made his resolve waver.

"Mr. Lucas, let me go!" Susan struggled to stand.

Last night's humiliation burned through her. She refused to show even a shred of weakness before him again.

"Shut up!"

He shoved her back onto the couch with rough hands, then turned to fetch the first-aid kit.

His movements were brusque as he grabbed her wrist, but the moment his fingers brushed the injuries, his touch inexplicably gentled.

"I can do it myself!"

"Your hand's nearly useless. Stop being stubborn." Andrew sneered, yet his ministrations grew even more careful.

Silence settled heavily after he finished tending her wounds. Just as Susan prepared to demand he leave, his voice cut through the quiet:

"You haven't eaten breakfast."

She blinked, confused by his sudden concern.

"I'm not hungry." She turned her face away. "Please go."

Her stomach chose that moment to emit a loud, traitorous growl.

The corner of Andrew's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. He retrieved an ornate food container.

When he laid out four dishes and a soup—sweet and sour fish, stir-fried bamboo shoots, cola chicken wings—Susan's breath hitched.

Every one of her former favorites.

Memories surged like a tidal wave. How she used to complain of hunger, how he'd secretly learned to cook. That first disastrous attempt nearly burned down the kitchen, yet he'd eventually surpassed restaurant chefs.

"Eat."

He placed a perfectly deboned piece of fish in her bowl. Soon, a small mountain of food towered before her.

Susan stared at the fish, her face draining of color.

The dungeon. Being force-fed raw fish. The stench of rot still clinging to her tongue.

When a chicken wing landed in her bowl, she couldn't hold back anymore—lurching toward the trash can to retch violently.

"Susan!" Andrew's face darkened with fury.

He'd lowered himself to cook for her, and this was her response?

What he didn't know: these once-beloved flavors had long become her worst nightmares.