Revenge is My Love Language novel Chapter 169

Ten minutes later, outside the apartment.

Helen stood frozen, her face alive with a mix of shock and barely-suppressed glee.

She couldn’t be mistaken—it was that car!

So Anastasia had moved out to live with the car’s owner?

Helen wasn’t exactly a car expert, but even she knew that wasn’t the kind of vehicle you’d see parked outside just any well-off person’s place. That car was in a league of its own.

And then there was Logan. She’d always assumed, with his looks and the way he carried himself, that he must be the owner. But hiding in the shadows just now, she’d seen Logan fussing over Anastasia, carrying her luggage, treating her with an almost servile respect. He wasn’t the boss—he was the help!

If even the staff had that sort of poise and presence, just how important must the real owner be?

Helen’s heart started to race, a mix of envy and ambition burning inside her.

Why did Anastasia always get all the luck?

If she could just meet that man—if she could get close to him, just once…

She ran a hand over her own face, eyes glinting with determination and self-assurance. With her ambitions set, she hopped onto a shared bike and quietly slipped away.

Anastasia, completely unaware she’d been followed or that anyone was scheming after her husband, was happily unpacking her things into the bedroom she now shared with Harrison.

The room wasn’t anywhere near as grand as Rosewood Manor, of course, but it was still large and airy. She didn’t have much to unpack, so once everything was in place, she stepped back and studied the space. No matter which way she arranged her things, it didn’t quite feel right—it was missing that lived-in warmth, that sense of a real home for two people.

With plenty of daylight left, Anastasia left the room in search of Harrison.

“Darling, let’s go shopping at the store together!”

Harrison had just finished a phone call. At the sound of her voice, his frosty expression softened ever so slightly, affection slipping into his otherwise sharp, inscrutable gaze.

He turned, brow raised. “Why do you want to go shopping?”

Anastasia replied, “Don’t you think we’re missing things here? It doesn’t feel like home at all.”

“This place isn’t supposed to be a home. It’s just a random apartment I picked up.”

She frowned at that, clearly disagreeing. “But we’re living here together. How could it not be home?”

Her tone was gentle, but her look was mildly reproachful.

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