Dark Secrets of the Blind Husband

“Didn’t you demand an explanation?”

The man glanced back at her with an icy stare. “Tll procure an explanation for you,” he retorted curtly before shutting the door behind him, leaving Cherise alone in the silence of their chambers.

From behind the barrier of the closed door, Cherise listened intently as Damien issued instructions to Frances. His voice, though muffled, carried a sense of authority and concern.

“Cherise has had a mishap,” he explained calmly, his words filtering through the thick wood. “She may not feel inclined to freshen up after she fell into the trash can. Ensure she is properly bathed and dressed in clean attire.”

“I’ve arranged for Lennon to procure her favorite fragrance from abroad,” he continued, his tone unwavering. “Sprinkle it throughout the room to create a more comfortable atmosphere.”

“And…”

Pausing momentarily, Damien’s voice took on a softer tone. “Given her current state of mind, prepare a meal that she enjoys,” he instructed, his concern evident in every word.

Having conveyed his directives, Damien leaned in to murmur a few additional instructions to Frances, his voice barely audible as he imparted his final guidance and slowly left.

Cherise sank to the floor as his footsteps faded into the distance, leaning heavily against the door.

This man… even in moments of turmoil, he exhibited such care and concern, enlisting the aid of their household staff to tend to her needs.

It was difficult for Cherise to reconcile this compassionate side of him with the portrait painted by Sebastian, the man who had manipulated her amnesia and harbored a deep-seated vendetta against her.

The memory of their tumultuous kiss in the car flashed through her mind unbidden.

her lips with her fingertips

lips, the lingering sensation of the wound he

emotions etched on Damien’s face during that heated moment.

conveyed a simmering

radiating from him, Damien’s actions remained restrained, limited to a passionate kiss and the sharp nip of

feelings, realizing that his ire

her in response to her perceived self-deprecation, not in

demeaning herself, not demeaning the former Cherise.

the former Cherise, who hadn’t lost her memory, as distinct entities.

within her,

wariness towards him, she couldn’t deny the kindness he had shown her.

help but wonder: How deeply did he cherish his former self?

her memory loss, she struggled to comprehend the depth of his

“Madam?”

thoughts, accompanied by a soft knock on the door. “I’ve brought your favorite incense. Would you

whether to open the door.

she relented and

room with a gentle smile, the aroma of the incense she carried

She liked it.

with the bath, she couldn’t help but inquire