He Never Loved Me Until the Day I Finally Left Him novel Chapter 850

The doctor came regularly to check on her progress, but his prognosis never changed.

She just had to wait for the swelling in her brain to go down.

Eventually, she stopped asking him about it.

But the longer they stayed in this isolated village, the more frequently she pressed Sebastian about returning to Riverton.

Every time she brought it up, his answer was a masterclass in deflection.

"When you're stable enough," he would say, wrapped in the guise of a deeply concerned husband.

It was an excuse so airtight she couldn't argue against it.

But whenever she couldn't see him, his eyes would darken into a predatory, calculating stare.

Physically, she had been stable enough to travel for weeks.

He was simply waiting for Julian to let his guard down.

They were still in Coralia—the beating heart of the Campbell family's territory.

Abducting her out from under Julian's nose had required every ounce of his cunning.

Trying to smuggle her out of the city in broad daylight was practically suicide.

Every major exit—harbors, airports, highways—was crawling with Julian's men.

Sebastian was a gambler, but he wasn't reckless.

Naturally, he kept all of this hidden from Helena.

In truth, his ultimate goal was to ensure she never regained her memories at all.

He intended to permanently sever her ties to Julian and the Campbell empire.

But he kept those dark ambitions locked tight behind a mask of devotion.

Under this fabricated reality, they lived in the fishing village for nearly half a month.

To any outsider, they looked like a blissfully married couple.

Except for the fact that they never shared a bed.

Helena found the lack of intimacy strange.

Not because she craved it, but because of her own visceral physical reaction to him.

It was a deep-seated, inexplicable repulsion.

Whenever he tried to initiate anything remotely intimate, every instinct in her body screamed in protest, rejecting him without reason.

This blind aversion left her thoroughly bewildered.

In the end, she rationalized it as trauma.

If she needed help, she asked for it.

Because of this, the nanny had grown complacent.

Stepping out of her room, Helena intended to head to the patio.

Her footsteps were feather-light.

The entire floor was lined with thick, plush carpets to prevent her from slipping, muting her movements completely.

As she reached the foyer, pausing at the crossroads between the living room and the hallway leading outside, she froze.

She heard Sebastian's voice drifting from the study above.

"Yes, keep giving it to her," his tone was ice-cold and authoritative. "As long as it doesn't cause lasting physical damage, I don't want her memories coming back."

The words slammed into her like a physical blow.

Her hand blindly shot out, gripping the nearest wall to keep herself upright.

She clamped her jaw shut to stifle the gasp clawing at her throat.

Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

Why was he deliberately suppressing her memories?

What monstrous truth was he so desperate to hide from her?