Hatred tangled with fear inside her.

Just stepping near the hospital made Delia feel like she'd fallen into ice water.

Her fingers clenched tight, cold sweat breaking out on her forehead.

That pain flashed back-her skin being peeled like it was on fire, the sting of chemicals-all of it burned into her memory like scars branded on the soul.

Noah opened the car door and moved to help Curtis and Delia out.

But suddenly, Delia latched onto Curtis's arm.

"No... I can't go in!" She shook her head frantically, tears streaming down her cheeks uncontrollably. "Please, honey, take me home!"

Watching her melt down again, Noah had obviously run out of patience.

"Ma'am, you insisted on coming because you felt unwell, and now we're at the entrance and you refuse to go in."

"Are you actually sick or not?"

Curtis's brows drew together slightly.

He gently held her icy hand, trying to calm her down.

He hesitated for a second before speaking in a softer, more personal tone. "Delia, we're already here. Let's just have the doctor take a look, that way we can treat it if something's really wrong."

Delia's heart was racing wildly.

She couldn't possibly explain that her fear came from the trauma of her past life.

But without a convincing excuse, Curtis might decide to go back to that meeting.

Everything she just did would be for nothing.

Clinging to Curtis, she looked up with teary eyes.

"Babe, I really don't feel good... but hospitals freak me out... It's just too much..."

Her voice trembled, full of pleading.

Curtis looked down at her tear-streaked face, unsure.

Right then, Noah's phone buzzed.

He stepped aside, frowning as he picked up.

As he listened, his face grew serious in an instant.

"I understand," he said, then rushed back toward them, lowering his voice. "Sir, there was an incident at the venue. Someone sneaked in with a knife and attacked another person... at your table. It's chaos over there. I think we should-"

Noah cut himself off, a worried look in his eyes.

"It's fine. Let's go back," Curtis said, calm as ever.

His brows furrowed a little tighter. He let out a cold breath in silence.

He'd gotten wind that something might go down, but he didn't expect they'd be this bold.

And as for who was really behind it-he had a few pretty solid guesses.

"Want me to find out who got hurt?" Noah asked casually, though he was really probing for permission to dig deeper.

Talking openly in front of Delia wasn't ideal, so he just made a face, slightly annoyed.

Curtis nodded. "Yeah."

Noah wasted no time, wheeling him back into the car in case more trouble came their way.

They'd dodged a bullet this time, but for all he knew, someone else could be after Curtis right now.

He started driving toward the Stockton villa, fast.

Curtis sat in the back, Delia close against him.

Seeing her just sitting there, spaced out, he instinctively put an arm around her, trying to comfort her.

But Delia wasn't calm at all.

She did it. She really changed what happened in her past life.

She blinked, holding on tighter to Curtis's arm.

Curtis gave her a thoughtful glance.

Was it just coincidence?

Delia tensed slightly under his gaze.

She quickly shoved down her excitement and snuggled closer, hiding her face in his chest. "Honey, my head's still spinning..."

That look of reliance in her eyes instantly softened Curtis's doubts.

His expression melted into something gentler.

As long as she was okay-and he was okay-nothing else mattered.Curtis thought for a moment, then said to Noah up front, "Grab some meds for Delia on the way back."

"Got it, sir," Noah replied.

Honestly, he still thought Delia was overly dramatic most of the time.

But weirdly enough, her little episode ended up keeping them out of serious trouble.

The whole thing put him in a strange mood.

Like, sure-she had no idea what was going on, but it kind of saved their necks.

So, credit where it's due.

Delia leaned against Curtis's chest, soaking in his body warmth.

She shut her eyes, her mind finally starting to settle.

Maybe fate wasn't set in stone after all.

Maybe... just maybe, she had a shot at fixing everything she'd messed up before?

*****

When the car stopped, Delia let go first.

Noah was just setting the wheelchair down outside and was about to help Curtis out when Delia stopped him.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.

She got out first and bent slightly toward the car. "We're home. Let me help you out," she offered, already reaching for his arm.

That simple move made Curtis visibly stiffen for a second.

He looked up at her, hesitation written all over his face.

It didn't take long for Delia to figure out why.

Her throat tightened.

Back then, she'd tossed some of the cruelest words at him because of his leg-

Called him useless, broken... couldn't even stand to be touched by him.

Now, suddenly offering to help must've felt... weird. Unbelievable, even.

No wonder he flinched without thinking.

"I..." Delia's voice caught.

She caught the quick flash of disappointment on his face and instantly softened her tone.

"I just wanted to help you out a bit, you know? You let me lean on you the whole ride back. Think of this as my turn. Fair's fair."

"Babe, let me give it a try, I promise I'll be super careful," she added, giving him wide, hopeful eyes.

Curtis stayed quiet, lips pressed together, unreadable emotions flickering in his dark eyes.

Finally, he gave a tiny nod.

He didn't lean on her, but he didn't push her hand away either.

Delia's heart lifted a bit. She gently steadied his arm, guiding him from the car to the wheelchair.

She was a bit clumsy, sure, but every movement was slow, cautious, and full of care.

Meanwhile, Noah stood by, eyes locked on her, ready to jump in if anything went wrong.

Only when Curtis was safely in the wheelchair did Noah finally relax with an inaudible sigh.

Delia glanced at him, catching the way he stared at her like she might explode at any second.

She gave a light sigh herself.

Well, she'd earned that suspicion.

It was her own fault for acting like a hurricane before. Now, she'd just have to slowly rebuild that trust.

Inside, the house manager Edith Dalton had already heard the car and was waiting at the door.

She stood up straight the second the door opened. "Mr. Stockton, welcome back. You're home early today."

She reached out, intending to take over the wheelchair from Noah-

Only to realize he wasn't the one pushing it.

Her gaze shifted-and froze when she saw Delia by the handles, smiling as she waved.

Mr. and Mrs. Stockton came back together? And she was helping him?

Edith's normally calm face morphed into one of pure disbelief.

She involuntarily looked at Noah, silently asking, "What's happening here?"

Noah just threw up his hands a little, looking more than a bit helpless.

He replied with the kind of look that said, "Don't ask me-I'm clueless too," and gave his head a small shake.

Honestly, who knew what Delia was planning?

Whatever it was, both Noah and Edith secretly raised their guard a notch.

Because let's be real-when someone that volatile suddenly starts playing the perfect wife, something's definitely up.

Chances were, she had some new drama cooking.

Delia caught all of it-every little detail between them.

It stung, but instead of backing down, she just grew more determined to change.

Pushing Curtis's wheelchair into the living room, she forced a gentle smile onto her face.

"Honey, are you hungry? I can make you something to eat."

The moment those words hit the air, Noah and Edith both froze. Even Curtis seemed a bit stunned.

"I thought you weren't feeling well?" he asked softly.

Delia's cheeks flushed. She quickly cleared her throat. "I took the meds in the car. I'm feeling way better now."

Noah had grabbed some medicine earlier, but honestly, she hadn't even waited for it to kick in. She'd been so wrapped up in figuring out how to win Curtis over that she completely forgot she was supposed to still be 'sick.'

Curtis just gave her a small, unreadable smile.

Delia hurried to park his wheelchair near the sofa.

"Alright then, tell me what you're craving. I'll whip it up for you," she said with a playful tone.

Before Curtis could even reply, Noah nearly jumped out of his skin.

Delia? Cooking?

Since they got married, she hadn't lifted a finger in the kitchen. Cooking, to her, was practically a foreign language. She always claimed smoke from the stove would ruin her 'delicate' skin.

And now she wanted to cook? Something was definitely up.

Noah quickly chimed in, "Ma'am, you really should just take it easy. We've got a chef at the villa, no need for you to wear yourself out."

Edith added cautiously, "Exactly, ma'am. Just let me know what you'd like, and I'll have the kitchen staff prepare it right away."

The two of them tried hard to steer her away, while Curtis just stayed quiet, his face unreadable.

But Delia had expected that kind of reaction. She didn't waver, meeting Curtis' eyes directly.

"I've been learning a few recipes on my own. I want to cook something special for you."

Curtis blinked, his gaze lingering on her for several long seconds.

Even though his mind was swarming with doubt, there was something about her words that stirred something in him. A tiny flicker of warmth in a place that had been cold for too long.

"If it's made by you, I'll eat anything," he finally said, voice as calm as ever.

No emotion really showed, but there was this subtle note of indulgence hiding in his words.

"Boss..." Noah looked like he wanted to say more, clearly freaking out. "You seriously think she knows how to cook?"

She'd never done it before-what kind of miracle were they expecting?

But Curtis gently raised a hand to cut him off. "Let her."

Delia's face lit up with a goofy grin. She looked like she'd won the lottery.

"Just wait, you guys!" she beamed, already making a dash toward the kitchen-only to double back after a few steps.

Turning back to Edith, she asked seriously, "Edith, does Curtis have any food restrictions?"

Once again, Noah and Edith were caught off guard.

Did the sun rise from the west today? Did she actually just ask about Curtis' preferences?

Edith hesitated for a second, then answered truthfully.

"Mr. Stockton prefers dishes that are sweet and spicy, but he shouldn't eat too much of them."

Delia made a mental note, nodded, then went straight into the kitchen, tying on an apron and diving in.

She was clearly out of practice-movements awkward, fumbling with utensils like she was defusing a bomb.

But the focus on her face? That wasn't fake.

Edith stood by the kitchen door for a while, quietly stunned.

Honestly? She didn't look half bad in there.

*****

By dinner, Delia proudly carried out a few homemade dishes and set them on the table.

Curtis looked at the plates, obviously seeing the effort she had poured into each one.

A strange, unfamiliar warmth crept into his chest.

He took up his fork, picked up a bite, and really tasted it.

Not bad. Actually... better than expected.

The whole table was quiet.

Curtis set his fork down slowly. Then he looked her straight in the eye.

"When did you learn to cook?"

Delia felt her heart lurch.

She knew her sudden change would definitely raise some eyebrows.

"Well, I married you, didn't I? I can't stay clueless forever. And..."

She paused, her cheeks flushing just the right amount. Her voice softened, almost shy. "I just figured... maybe I could do something for you once in a while."

Curtis stared at her for a beat but didn't question it further.

Edith, watching from the side, let a bit of wariness slide off his expression.

At least today, Mrs. Stockton seemed to be heading in a better direction.

As long as Mr. Stockton was pleased, that was what mattered.

Noah, though, stayed tense, picking at his food without tasting it.

He kept glancing at Delia, more than a little suspicious.

Did she seriously have a change of heart?

Well, if that's true, maybe it's a good thing. At least Mr. Stockton might stop looking so hurt all the time.

Dinner rolled on under an odd but not unpleasant haze.

Curtis ate quietly, but his calm face didn't match the thoughts spinning in his head.

He could feel her excited gaze, like a puppy waiting for praise, tugging at his heart.

He pushed all that aside and kept his tone even.

Taking a napkin to his lips, he said simply, "Tastes good."

Delia lit up like a switch had been flipped.

Her eyes sparkled, and she leaned in, full of energy.

"Really? I'm so glad you liked it!"

She leaned in closer, eager. "Tell me what else you like to eat-I'll learn how to make everything you love!"

Curtis' fingers tightened slightly around his fork.

He didn't answer right away, pausing like he was weighing something big.

Then he looked up, voice lower than before, and listed two dishes-bold flavors with a bit of spice.

He watched her face carefully, anxiety creeping in despite himself.

He'd only mentioned them once before, offhand, and she'd responded with an eye-roll: "You think I'd actually remember that?"

Curtis shut his eyes briefly. He was bracing for disappointment again.

But her reaction caught him completely off guard.

She blinked at him, surprised, then a big grin took over.

"Seriously? You like those kinds of dishes? But..."

Curtis' stomach tensed.

Her tone dipped, softer now. "The chefs here always make everything so bland. I thought you didn't like strong flavors."

As she spoke, her eyes drifted off. She looked like she was remembering something.

In her past life, she hardly ever came home for meals. It was all parties with Isabelle or chasing after Nathan.

She had no clue what Curtis liked to eat, or how his days went.

When she did show up, meals were always made to suit her own taste.

Guilt and regret rushed in hard and fast.

Seeing her eyes dim, Curtis felt a jolt in his chest, like he'd just been hit.

His voice came out before he even thought about it. "You... didn't like the food before?"

That snapped Delia out of her thoughts.

She looked up, right into Curtis' eyes, deep and searching.

This man, after all that, still remembered what she liked-but she'd never once tried to understand him.

The remorse hit her like a wave.

"No." She fought back tears, forcing a shaky smile. "I'm just... really thankful. Thank you... honey."

"You always remembered what I liked, but I never cared enough to ask about you."

Curtis froze, seeing her eyes getting red.

He'd never seen her look so fragile.

Awkward, unsure, he softened his voice, trying to comfort her.

"That's what I should've done... Don't cry."

Delia felt her chest tighten with regret.

In her past life, she'd been blind-pushed away the man who truly loved her in silence, and got played like a fool by Nathan and that venomous Isabelle.

That mix of guilt and relief brought tears to her eyes.

Curtis's fingers twitched slightly, unsure if he should reach out and wipe her tears away.

She sniffled and rubbed her face messily with the back of her hand.

"Curtis, I was a total jerk before. But from today on, I just wanna live properly with you."

"And you...stop bottling everything up, okay? Don't keep everything to yourself."

"I really love you. I never wanna see you all alone again."

Curtis's heart skipped a beat.

For a moment, reality felt shaky, like he wasn't quite awake.

Was he dreaming? Otherwise, why would Delia say something so honest, so full of love?

Off to the side, Noah and Edith shot each other a look, both stunned beyond words.

Was this really the same Delia who used to treat Curtis like her worst enemy?

Curtis didn't say anything, still staring at her in disbelief, but Delia didn't seem the least discouraged.

She walked over, tears still on her face, and looked up at him. "Babe, say something, will you? I wanna hear your voice, wanna know what you're thinking. You're always so quiet, I can't read your mind..."

Curtis was caught off guard by how close she got, and her words made his ears turn red.

"...Right. I get it." He mumbled, awkwardly looking away.

Noah kept a straight face but once again exchanged a worried glance with Edith.

Delia hadn't done anything wrong yet. That wasn't the issue.

What worried them was the way Curtis looked-like he'd already fallen all over again.

Was he really letting her sweet words melt him just like that?

If this was all an act...he'd end up heartbroken.

Better to keep a closer eye on things, just in case.

*****

Dinner finally wrapped up in a weird, kind-of-flirty vibe.

Curtis had to discuss something with Noah in the study.

Delia, though clearly reluctant, didn't make a fuss.

She watched Curtis leave the dining room with Noah, took a deep breath, and turned to Edith, who'd been quietly standing by.

"Edith, could you arrange to move my stuff back to the master bedroom?"

Delia's tone was steady, but there was no mistaking the firmness beneath it. "I don't think it's healthy for a married couple to live separately for so long."

Edith blinked, clearly taken aback, but she quickly composed herself and offered a respectful nod. "Of course, ma'am. Though-"

She hesitated briefly before continuing, "Mr. Stockton actually instructed us not to touch anything in the master suite. He wanted everything left exactly as it was."

"So all we'll need to do is move your day-to-day items and clothing. Nothing else has to change."

Delia froze. Her breath hitched, and a flush of warmth rushed to her eyes.

He hadn't moved a thing. He'd been waiting for her all along.

Even after everything, even knowing she probably wouldn't come back, he'd still held on?

That wave of bittersweet emotion hit her hard, nearly knocking the wind out of her.

It hurt, realizing how foolish she'd been last time around-but at least now she had a chance to fix it.

This second chance really was a gift from above.

He never left. He just waited-quietly, patiently-for her to turn around.

"...Got it." Her voice cracked a little.

She pulled herself together, forced a smile, and looked at Edith. "Thanks. Please move it all back as soon as you can."

This time, going back to that room wasn't just about where she slept.

It was going home-to the man she loved.

*****

In the study, the mood was heavy.

Noah closed the door firmly, his usual respectful demeanor replaced by seriousness."Mr. Stockton, we've got the intel."

"Talk," Curtis said, wheeling closer to his desk.

"It wasn't easy-the site was cleaned up pretty thoroughly. But tracking the money trail gave us more than a few clues." Noah paused, a flash of disgust crossing his face. "It's Matthew again."

Curtis sat quietly, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk.

The light outlined his silhouette, cold and sharp-edged.

Hearing that name, his eyes barely twitched, and his brows knitted slightly.

A cold glint passed through his dark eyes.

Matthew Stockton-his half-brother from his father's second marriage.

Mediocre at best, sly as a snake, always eyeing Stockton Group like it was his birthright.

Pulling shady moves wasn't new to him.

But this time? The guy actually dared to go lethal.

"Handle it," Curtis said calmly. "Those shell companies under his name? Time they got a wake-up call."

"No need to make this incident obvious. Just keep him too busy cleaning up his own mess."

"Yes, sir," Noah replied, already plotting the plan out in his head.

Matthew had been playing games with Curtis for a while now. They'd gotten pretty practiced at clapping back.

"I'll keep it low-key, make sure he's running around like a headless chicken. He won't have time to stir the pot again for a while."

Honestly, he'd had it with that do-nothing party boy who stabbed Curtis in the back when no one was looking.

Their previous attempts to shut him down weren't strong enough. That always sat wrong with Noah.

Matthew kept crossing lines, and Curtis turned a blind eye more often than not.

Which only made the guy cockier-until now.

This time, they were going to hit him where it hurt.

Once business was handled, silence settled in the study.

Noah glanced at Curtis's worn-out profile and hesitated before speaking.

"Sir, can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," Curtis said, lifting his head.

Noah drew a breath, then spit it out.

"Why are you so invested in Delia?"

"What do you mean?" Curtis's brows creased.

Sensing his boss's mood shift, Noah corrected himself, but the questioning tone stayed. "You know what she used to be like. I saw it all, and honestly, I couldn't stand it. Now she's acting like a whole different person. It's... off."

"Noah," Curtis cut in, voice suddenly cold. "She's my wife. The woman of this household."

"I expect you to remember that, along with what she's owed in respect."

His tone was sharp, no room for argument.

Noah froze, the rest of his warning stuck in his throat.

He lowered his eyes, muttering, "Understood."

But deep down, he was fuming.

Why did that woman deserve this level of protection from Curtis?

Curtis turned his wheelchair toward the window, the night outside casting a quiet shadow over him.

After a long pause, his voice was calm again.

"I know it might just be an act. She might go back to her old ways eventually."

"But even so, I still can't..."

His words trailed off, ending in a faint, bitter laugh.

Curtis couldn't turn away from the tenderness Delia showed now.

Was it self-inflicted poison, or a lifeline?

He knew how real her hatred had been in the past.

Now all the warmth she gave felt wrong and out of place.

His brain screamed this was a trap, while his heart couldn't help but cling to it.

He was diving in, fully aware he might drown.

Noah looked at Curtis's lonely silhouette, full of conflict.

All he could do was let out a long sigh.

At the end of the day, he just hoped Delia truly cared about Curtis this time.