She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 996

It had been a long time since Helena had set foot in Morris's sprawling estate in the hills.

Standing in the grand foyer, the chill of the marble floors managed to sober her up a fraction. In the silence of the massive house, memories began to flood back—memories of the intense, controlling dynamic they used to share within these exact walls.

She froze, her eyes darting toward the living room, hesitation written all over her face.

Morris noticed immediately. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He reached into the shoe cabinet, pulled out the exact pair of house slippers she used to wear, and dropped them softly at her feet. "Regretting it? Afraid I'm going to eat you alive?"

Helena stared down at the slippers. He had never thrown them away. She kicked off her boots, slid her feet into them, and murmured, "No."

She walked over to the velvet sofa and sank into it. Morris crossed the room and handed her a glass of warm water.

As she reached for it, her eyes caught the jagged scar on his hand. She couldn't help but ask, "Is your hand doing better?"

"Flexing it helps the joints recover," Morris replied effortlessly.

His hands were striking—long, elegant fingers with faint calluses on the tips from years of playing the piano. Deliberately, he turned his palm upward, holding it open in front of her. "Care to check the results of our physical therapy?"

It was a dangerously loaded question. Helena glanced up at him. Standing under the warm glow of the chandelier, looking devastatingly handsome, and offering up those beautiful, punishing hands... he was pulling her right back into forbidden territory.

She remembered exactly how those hands felt—the sharp sting of discipline, followed by the blinding, all-consuming rush of satisfaction when he finally took her.

She had ruthlessly locked those memories away the second she started dating Swain. But standing here, in this house, with a single, subtle gesture from Morris, the deep-seated cravings she had forced into dormancy came roaring back to life.

Since she had ended things with Morris and settled for a 'normal' life with Swain, she hadn't experienced a single moment of true physical satisfaction or mental release.

"Helena?" Morris's fingers lightly grazed her cheek. "Where did you go just now?"

Helena snapped back to reality, abruptly crossing her legs. She absolutely could not let herself spiral into this right now.

"I..."

Before she could form an excuse, her stomach let out a loud, hollow growl that echoed through the quiet room.

Morris chuckled softly. "Hungry?"

Helena flushed crimson and nodded. "I drank on an empty stomach. I didn't have dinner."

Morris straightened up, shrugging off his waistcoat and tossing it over a chair. "Go take a shower," he ordered lightly.

Helena blinked.

"That dive bar clearly didn't have a no-smoking policy," he added, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Morris wasn't there. But she heard movement coming from the kitchen.

She walked over and stopped in the doorway, staring in absolute disbelief.

The sight before her completely shattered everything she thought she knew about him. Morris had rolled the sleeves of his crisp white shirt up to his elbows and was standing over the stove. One pot was boiling pasta, while another bubbled with a rich, incredible-smelling meat sauce.

"You're... cooking?" she asked, her voice cracking with shock.

She had never seen him touch a stove. When they were together, she used to joke that he sustained himself on pure oxygen. His fridge had always been a decorative piece, holding absolutely nothing but imported sparkling water.

"Meal kits," Morris replied without looking away from the pan. "Had someone drop them off."

Helena stepped beside him, automatically grabbing two plates to help him portion out the pasta. He scooped up a spoonful of the rich tomato sauce and held it up to her lips. "Taste it. It was completely bland, so I fixed it."

Helena took a bite and nodded enthusiastically. "It's amazing."

They plated the food and sat across from each other at the massive dining table. Helena was starving; she practically inhaled the food.

Morris ate with his usual agonizing elegance, methodically chewing the premium meal kit he normally wouldn't be caught dead eating. After taking a slow sip of wine, he finally asked the question.

"So, why were you drinking yourself into a stupor at midnight?"