Betrayed by Blood: My Second Life as a Queen novel Chapter 268

For a fleeting second, Willow felt a strange, jarring sense of warmth, as if she had somehow stumbled into a real home.

Moving almost mechanically, she followed Lucian inside.

He had a pair of slippers perfectly sized for her by the door. A cute apron hung next to the dining table, a matching set with his own.

It seemed everything in Lucian's apartment had a designated counterpart just for her.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and her pulse spiked violently.

Lucian leaned down, gently helping her change into the slippers.

It wasn't until his fingers wrapped around her ankle that she snapped out of her daze. Jolting backward as if burned, she blurted out, "I—I can do it myself."

Lucian glanced at his empty hand, a flash of regret crossing his eyes.

But that was fine. They had all the time in the world.

He would ensure she got used to him.

Stepping fully into the apartment, Willow noticed it was completely empty except for the two of them.

So who had cooked breakfast?

The thought tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Lucian chuckled. "Am I not allowed to cook for you?"

Willow blinked. The very concept felt incredibly surreal.

The ruthless, untamable heir of the Jagger family—the man whispered about with fear in elite circles—was currently steaming dumplings for her?

Was she dreaming?

But then again, this was exactly the sort of thing Lucian would do.

He was always remarkably soft with her.

She chalked it up to the whole 'saving his life' thing.

Lost in thought, she took a big bite of the dumpling.

It was packed with boiling hot broth, which immediately burst against her tongue. She gasped sharply in pain.

Lucian panicked, immediately reaching out to cup her chin. "Spit it out."

Tears pricked Willow's eyes, but she clamped her mouth shut.

Spitting food into someone else's hand was way too embarrassing!

Lucian was frantic. Grabbing a glass of ice water, he handed it to her.

She chugged it, finally feeling the agonizing burn subside.

The chances of a person being assassinated by a soup dumpling on dry land were apparently not zero!

Lucian stared at her bright red lips and gritted his teeth. "I'm never making Truffle Soup Dumplings again."

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