Revenge is My Love Language novel Chapter 240

Mr. Pierce realized too late that something was wrong. His heart skipped a beat as he stammered, “Mr. Harrison Lancaster? You—”

Before he could finish, chaos erupted on the other side of the hall.

The ceremony had reached its end, and as the time came to present flowers, Anastasia strode forward with cool composure, stopping in front of Mr. Jason. She extended her bouquet without the slightest tremor in her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Alice approaching Harrison, but Anastasia didn’t hurry or look the least bit concerned. She made no move to interfere.

It wasn’t until Jason’s eyes wandered over her with an appalling leer, his fingers brushing her hand under the pretense of accepting the flowers, that Anastasia’s expression hardened. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. Without hesitation, she swung the bouquet and smacked Jason squarely across the face.

Several thorns, left untrimmed along the stems, scratched across his cheek, leaving angry red lines. Jason yelped in pain, clutching his face.

“You—you—!” he sputtered, pointing at Anastasia, his voice hoarse with rage, all pretense of decorum forgotten. “You little tramp! Who the hell do you think you are?!”

The commotion drew everyone’s attention at once.

As people recognized the young woman facing off against Jason, Harrison’s expression darkened. He shot to his feet, his jaw clenched.

Mr. Pierce, misunderstanding the situation entirely, barked, “Security! Remove that student, now! Does she think she can do whatever she pleases here?”

Several staff members rushed forward to grab Anastasia. Instinctively, she backed away—only for her heel to snap beneath her. She stumbled, suddenly at the very edge of the stage, perilously close to falling off.

A chorus of gasps erupted from the audience.

“Anastasia!” Maggie and the others leapt up, panic etched across their faces.

In that split second, a tall figure surged forward, catching Anastasia and pulling her safely into his arms.

—Harrison.

His face was thunderous, darker than anyone had ever seen it.

Anastasia, her ankle twisted, clung to his neck and looked up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes. “Honey, my foot hurts.”

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