Summary of Chapter 161 from Revenge is My Love Language
Chapter 161 marks a crucial moment in Arlene Zade’s Romance novel, Revenge is My Love Language. This chapter blends tension, emotion, and plot progression to deliver a memorable reading experience — one that keeps readers eagerly turning the page.
A sharp gasp rippled through the lobby, then silence fell like a heavy curtain.
Everyone’s eyes swung to the man who had just appeared.
He was the kind of stunningly handsome that made you doubt he was real—like God had sculpted him by hand and then set him loose among mortals. His presence was so commanding, so intense, that people seemed to hold their breath just standing near him. There was an air of authority and mystery that radiated from him, making the women in the lobby flush and fidget, hearts skipping wildly as they stared in awe.
None of them had ever seen a man so dazzling, so untouchable.
Trailing behind him were several bodyguards, sharp-eyed and immaculately dressed. The man himself wore a look of icy indifference, his gaze dropping coolly to the figure blocking his path—Penelope.
Penelope froze for barely a moment before her eyes turned red, tears threatening to spill as she gazed up at him with an air of helplessness, playing the part of the wronged damsel perfectly.
“Mr. Harrison Lancaster…”
People snapped out of their stupor. “That’s the big shot Penelope was talking about, isn’t it?”
“Just look at him. That aura—definitely someone you don’t want to mess with. Didn’t Penelope say she had a close relationship with him?”
“Then Anastasia’s in trouble. She picked the worst moment to cross Penelope, with her ‘protector’ right here…”
A wave of furtive glances shifted over to Anastasia.
Anastasia blinked. Huh?
She’d been shocked and secretly delighted to see her husband suddenly appear, almost running to him on instinct. But overhearing the whispers, she stopped in her tracks, a string of question marks practically hovering over her head.
Penelope and her husband were close?
Since when?
“Mr. Harrison Lancaster, I fell on my own. Please, don’t blame Anastasia…” Penelope pleaded, her voice trembling with just the right touch of vulnerability.
Anastasia closed her eyes, took a steadying breath, and placed a hand over her chest to keep from laughing—or retching.
Just like her mother. Unbelievable.
To everyone else, Penelope looked heartbreakingly fragile—if it weren’t for Harrison’s intimidating presence, half the men in the lobby would have rushed over to help her up.
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