Reclaiming Her Heart

Chapter 1331 I Definitely Won't Secretly Fall for Anyone After concluding the 002 affair, K waved his hand in front of Selena.

"How's your vision recovering?" he asked.

"Getting better. I should be fully recovered in about a week. I can make out more shapes and shadows now," she replied.

As Selena stood up and tried to navigate her way out, her foot caught on the corner of the table. She stumbled toward K, her hand "accidentally" reaching for his mask.

But K's reflexes were quicker. He pinned her against the sofa, his voice cool and detached.

"Careful there," he said.

Selena suddenly remembered how he'd always kept her at arm's length. Did he never remove his mask in this villa? Her brow furrowed with suspicion.

She'd need to find another opportunity.

Two days later, in a private residence in Silver Bay City.

Ann had spent the past few days learning how to change dressings and treat wounds from the doctor.

"He should regain consciousness today," the doctor said while preparing to leave. "Keep him on bland food for the next month." "I will," Ann promised.

After politely seeing the doctor out, Ann returned to sit beside the bed. She took the opportunity to study Paul's face closely-something she'd never dared to do before.

While Raymond had an aristocratic, cold demeanor, Paul's features exuded a dark, domineering presence. He'd never shown her any tenderness, never kissed her, never inquired about her life.

Yet women often develop complicated feelings for the first man they've been intimate with. Looking at his face now, she had to admit his features were quite striking.

She was exhausted, having monitored his IV drip all night without daring to close her eyes. Fatigue was finally overtaking her.

When Paul awoke, his entire body ached. He stared at the ceiling, slowly pushing himself up. Something felt unusual against his hand. Looking down, he saw a woman with her head resting on the edge of the bed.

Her head was bowed, and he instinctively assumed she was a housekeeper. "I'm hungry," he said.

The sound of his voice jolted Ann awake. She raised her head, instantly alert. "What would you like? I'll make it right away." "Porridge." As Ann rose, she noticed him struggling to get out of bed. His brows furrowed as he realized his body was wrapped in bandages. Still, he persisted, attempting to reach the bathroom.

Afraid he might fall, Ann quickly supported his arm.

Standing before the urinal, she averted her gaze in embarrassment.

"I'll wait outside!" she said, hastily retreating.

Soon, she heard water running from inside.

Paul had lost several pounds, making his nose appear more prominent. While washing his hands, he glanced at the bandages wrapped around his head.

When he opened the bathroom door, Ann was waiting quietly outside.

His body was clean-she had carefully wiped him down every day, never allowing him to break a sweat.

Paul studied her silently, making her uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

Finally, he extended his hand in an unusual gesture of civility. "Helpdownstairs. I'm weak, but I'd like to sit on the sofa." His tone was uncharacteristically gentle, catching Ann by surprise.

Once she recovered from her shock, she quickly moved to support him.

After carefully helping him to the sofa downstairs, she said, "I'll make the porridge now," and disappeared into the kitchen.

Paul looked around the villa, rubbing his forehead as his head throbbed.

He slowly made his way to the refrigerator. On a sticky note attached to the door was a detailed list of fresh vegetables added today, milk expiration dates, and other information.

It was a long, meticulously written note. Opening the refrigerator, he noticed the vegetables were replaced daily. His mood inexplicably improved. He wandered toward the kitchen.

Ann was wearing an apron, chopping vegetables. She wasn't making sweet porridge, correctly guessing that someone as austere as Paul would prefer savory flavors.

When she carried the food to the dining table, Paul was sitting on the sofa, reading a book in a foreign language he'd found somewhere.

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"Dinner's ready," she called, removing her apron and serving him a bowl of porridge. She didn't dare sit down to eat with him. In her limited memory, she had never shared a meal with Paul. After serving him, she sat far away, afraid her presence might disturb his meal.

Paul sat alone at the dining table for a while before tentatively calling out, "Wife?" Ann was stunned.

He observed her expression, his long fingers holding the spoon. "No?" "No, don't misunderstand. We're... we're just acquaintances!" she clarified, worried he might accuse her of overstepping boundaries once his mind cleared.

Paul had assumed she was his wife, given how familiar she was with the house, the absence of servants, and her meticulous care.

"Are you secretly in love with me?" he asked. Why else would she care so attentively for a man? Ann was flustered by the question.

"Not at all, Mr. Adams. You've suffered a head injury. The doctor doctor said you need a month's rest, and then you'll remember everything. I'm not secretly in love with you, and you're certainly not in love with me." "I know," he replied coldly, eating his porridge. "I would never fall in love secretly." Ann laughed awkwardly.

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